» /  WVr.j'- vy^  f/v^  Vi^,  Ajf 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 


Ralph  Freud 


THE 


LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES 


OF 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY 


BY 


CHARLES    DICKENS. 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS    BY  F.    BARNARD. 


NEW  YORK: 
JOHN    WURTELE    LOVELL, 

No.  24  Bond  Street. 


A-/ 


PREFACE. 


This  story  was  begun,  within  a  few  months  after  the  pub- 
lication of  the  completed  "  Pickwick  Papers."  There  were, 
then,  a  good  many  cheap  Yorkshire  schools  in  existence. 
There  are  very  few  now. 

Of  the  monstrous  neglect  of  education  in  England,  and 
the  disregard  of  it  by  the  State  as  a  means  of  forming  good 
or  bad  citizens,  and  miserable  or  happy  men,  private  schools 
long  afiforded  a  notable  example.  Although  any  man  who 
had  proved  his  unfitness  for  any  other  occupation  in  life,  was 
free,  without  examination  or  qualification,  to  open  a  school 
anywhere;  although  preparation  for  the  fimctions  he  under- 
took, was  required  in  the  surgeon  who  assisted  to  bring  a  boy 
into  the  world,  or  might  one  day  assist,  perhaps,  to  send  him 
out  of  it ;  in  the  cliemist,  the  attorney,  the  butcher,  the  baker, 
the  candlestick-maker  ;  the  whole  round  of  crafts  and  trades, 
the  schoolmaster  excepted  ;  and  although  schoolmasters,  as  a 
race,  were  the  blockheads  and  impostors  who  might  naturally 
be  expected  to  spring  from  such  a  state  of  things,  and  to 
flourish  in  it ;  these  Yorkshire  schoolmasters  were  the  lowest 
and  most  rotten  round  in  the  whole  ladder.  Traders  in  the 
avarice,  indifference,  or  imbecility  of  parents,  and  the  helpless- 
ness of  children  ;  ignorant,  sordid,  brutal  men,  to  whom  few 
considerate  persons  would  have  entrusted  the  board  and  lodg- 
ing of  a  horse  or  a  dog ;  they  formed  the  worthy  corner-stone 
of  a  structure,  which,  for  absurdity  and  magnificent  high- 
minded  laissez-allcr  neglect,  has  rarely  been  exceeded  in  the 
world. 

We  hear  sometimes  of  an  action  for  damages  against  the 


iv  PREFACE. 

unqualified  medical  practitioner,,  who  has  deformed  a  broken 
limb  in  pretending  to  heal  it./  But,  what  of  the  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  minds  that  have  "Been  deformed  for  ever^by  the 
incapable  pettifoggers  who  have  pretended  to  form  them/! 

I  make  mention  of  the  race,  as  of  the  Yorkshire  school- 
masters, in  the  past  tense.  Though  it  has  not  yet  finally  dis- 
appeared, it  is  dwindling  daily.  A  long  day's  work  remains 
to  be  done  about  us  in  the  way  of  education,  Heaven  knows  ; 
but  great  improvements  and  facilities  towards  the  attainment 
of  a  good  one,  have  been  furnished,  of  late  years. 

I  cannot  call  to  mind,  now,  how  I  came  to  hear  about  York- 
shire schools  when  I  was  a  not  very  robust  child,  sitting  in 
bye-places  near  Rochester  Castle,  with  a  head  full  of  Par- 
tridge, Strap,  Tom  Pipes,  and  Sancho  Panza  ;  but  I  know 
that  my  first  impressions  of  them  were  picked  up  at  that  time, 
and  that  they  were  somehow  or  other  connected  with  a  sup- 
purated abscess  that  some  boy  had  come  home  with,  in  con- 
sequence of  his  Yorkshire  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend, 
having  ripped  it  open  with  an  inky  penknife.  The  impression 
made  upon  me,  however  made,  never  left  me.  I  N\as  always 
curious  about  Yorkshire  schools — fell,  long  afterwards  and  at 
sundry  times,  into  the  way  of  hearing  more  about  them — at 
last,  having  an  audience,  resolved  to  write  about  them. 

With  that  intent  I  went  down  into  Yorkshire  before  I 
began  this  book,  in  very  severe  winter-time  which  is  prett}'' 
faithfully  described  herein.  As  I  wanted  to  see  a  schoolmas- 
ter or  two,  and  was  forewarned  that  those  gentlemen  might, 
in  their  modesty,  be  shy  of  receiving  a  visit  from  the  author 
of  the  "Pickwick  Papers,"  I  consulted  with  a  professional 
friend  who  had  a  Yorkshire  connection,  and  with  whom  I  con- 
certed a  pious  fraud.  He  gave  me  some  letters  of  introduc- 
tion, in  the  name,  I  think,  of  my  travelling  companion  ;  they 
bore  reference  to  a  supposititious  little  boy  who  had  been  left 
with  a  widowed  mother  who  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  him ; 
the  poor  lady  had  thought,  as  a  means  of  thawing  the  tardy 
compassion  of  her  relations  in  his  behalf,  of  sending  him  to  a 
Yorkshire  school  ;  I  was  the  poor  lady's  friend,  travelling  that 
way ;  and  if  the  recipient  of  the  letter  could  inform  me  of  a 
school  in  his  neighborhood,  the  writer  would  be  very  much 
obliged. 

I  went  to  several  places  in  that  part  of  the  country  where 
I  undcrstoofl  the  schools  to  be  most  plentifullv  sprinkled,  and 
had  no  occasion  to  deliver  a  letter  until  1   came  to  a  certain 


PREFACE.  V 

town  which  shall  be  nameless.  The  person  to  whom  it  was 
addressed,  was  not  at  home ;  but  he  came  down  at  night, 
through  the  snow,  to  the  inn  where  I  was  staying.  It  was 
after  dinner ;  and  he  needed  little  persuasion  to  sit  down  by 
the  fire  in  a  warm  corner,  and  take  his  share  of  the  wine  that 
was  on  the  table. 

I  am  afraid  he  is  dead  now.     I  recollect  he  was  a  jovial, 
ruddy,   broad-faced  man  ;  that  we  got  acquainted  directly  ; 
and  that  we  talked  on  all  kinds  of  subjects,  except  the  school, 
which  he  showed  a  great  anxiety  to  avoid.     Was  there  any 
large  school  near  1     I  asked  him,  in   reference  to  the  letter. 
"  Oh  yes,"  he  said  ;  "  there  was  a  pratty  big  'un."     "  Was  it 
a  good  one  ?  "  I  asked.     "  Ey  !  "  he  said,  "  it  was  as  good  as 
anoother  ;  that  was  a'  a  matther  of  opinion  ; "  and  fell  to  look- 
ing at  the  fire,  staring  round  the  room,  and  whistling   a  little. 
On  my  reverting  to  some  other  topic  that  we  had  been  dis- 
cussing, he  recovered  immediately  ;  but,  though  I  tried  him 
again  and  again,   I  never  approached  the  question  of   the 
school,  even  if  he  were  in  the  middle  of   a  laugh,  without 
observing   that   his   countenance  fell,   and  that   he  became 
uncomfortable.     At  last,  when  we  had  passed  a  couple  of 
hours  or  so,  very  agreeably,  he  suddenly  took  up  his  hat,  and 
leaning  over  the  table  and  looking  me  full  in  the  face,  said,  in 
a   low   voice :    "  Weel    Misther,  we've    been  vara   pleasant 
toogather,^and  ar'U  spak'  my  moind  tiv'ee.     Dinnot  let  the 
weedur  send  her  lattle  boy  to  yarn  o'  our  school-measthers, 
while  there's  a  harse  to  hoold  in  a'  Lunnun,  or  a  gootther  to 
lie  asleep  in.     Ar  wouldn't  mak'  ill  words  amang  my  neeburs, 
and  ar  speak  tiv'ee  quiet  loike.     But  I'm  dom'd  if  ar  can  gang 
to  bed  and  not  tellee,  for  weedur's  sak',  to  keep  the  lattle  boy 
from  a'  sike  scoondrels  while  there's  a  harse  to  hoold  in  a' 
Lunnun,  or  a  gootther  to  lie  asleep  in  !  "     Repeating  these 
words  with  great  heartiness,  and  with  a  solemnity  on  his  jolly 
face  that  made  it  look  twice  as  large  as  before,  he  shook  hands 
and  went  away.     I  never  saw  him  afterwards,  but  I  sometimes 
imagine  that  I  descry  a  faint  reflection  of  him  in  John  Brow- 
die. 

In  reference  to  these  gentry,  I  may  here  quote  a  few  words 
from  the  original  preface  to  this  book. 

"  It  has  afforded  the  Author  great  amusement  and  satis- 
faction, during  the  progress  of  this  work,  to  learn,  from  coun- 
try friends  and  from  a  variety  of  ludicrous  statements  con- 
cerning himself  in  provincial  newspapers,  that  more  than  one 


vi  PREFACE. 

Yorkshire  schoolmaster  lays  claim  to  being  the  original  of  Mr. 
Squeers.  One  worthy,  he  has  reason  to  believe,  has  actually 
consulted  authorities  learned  in  the  law,  as  to  his  having  good 
grounds  on  which  to  rest  an  action  for  libel  ;  another,  has 
meditated  a  journey  to  London,  for  the  express  purpose  of 
conimitting  an  assault  and  battery  on  his  traducer ;  a  third, 
perfectly  remembers  being  waited  on,  last  January  twelve- 
month, by  two  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  held  him  in  conversa- 
tion while  the  other  took  his  likeness  ;  and,  although  Mr. 
Squeers  has  but  one  eye,  and  he  has  two,  and  the  published 
sketch  does  not  resemble  him  (whoever  he  may  be)  in  any 
other  respect,  still  he  and  all  his  friends  and  neighbors  know 
at  once  for  whom  it  is  meant,  because — the  character  is  so 
like  him. 

"  While  the  Author  cannot  but  feel  the  full  force  of  the 
compliment  thus  conveyed  to  him,  he  ventures  to  suggest  that 
these  contentions  may  arise  from  the  fact,  that  Mr.  Squeers 
is  the  representative  of  a  claiis,  and  not  of  an  individual. 
Where  imposture,  ignorance,  and  brutal  cupidity,  are  the 
stock  in  trade  of  a  small  body  of  men,  and  one  is  described 
by  these  characteristics,  all  his  fellows  will  recognize  some- 
thing belonging  to  themselves,  and  each  will  have  a  misgiv- 
ing that  the  portrait  is  his  own. 

"  The  Author's  object  in  calling  public  attention  to  the 
system  would  be  very  imperfectly  fulfilled,  if  he  did  not  state 
now,  in  his  own  person,  emphatically  and  earnestly,  that  Mr. 
Squeers  and  his  school  are  faint  and  feeble  pictures  of  an 
existing  reality,  purposely  subdued  and  kept  down  lest  they 
should  be  deemed  impossible.  That  there  are,  upon  record, 
trials  at  law  in  which  damages^  have  been  sought  as  a  poor 
recompense  for  lasting  agonies  and  disfigurements  inflicted 
upon  children  by  the  treatment  of  the  master  in  these  places, 
involving  such  offensive  and  foul  details  of  neglect,  cruelty, 
and  disease,  as  no  writer  of  fiction  would  have  the  boldness 
to  imagine.  And  that,  since  he  has  been  engaged  upon  these 
Adventures,  he  has  received,  from  private  quarters  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  suspicion  or  distrust,  accounts  of  atrocities,  in 
the  perpetration  of  which  upon  neglected  or  repudiated  chil- 
dren, these  schools  have  been  the  main  instruments,  very  far 
exceeding  any  that  appear  in  these  pages." 

This  comprises  all  I  need  say  on  the  subject  ;  except  that 
if  I  had  seen  occasion,  T  had  resolved  to  reprint  a  few  of  these 
details  of  legal  proceedings,  from  certain  old  newspapers. 


PR  El- ACE.  vii 

One  other  quotation  from  the  same  Preface,  may  serve  to 
introduce  a  fact  that  my  readers  may  think  curious. 

"  To  turn  to  a  more  pleasant  subject,  it  may  be  right  to 
say,  that  there  arc  two  characters  in  this  book  which  are  drawn 
from  life.  It  is  remarkable  that  what  we  call  the  world,  which 
is  so  very  credulous  in  what  professes  to  be  true,  is  most 
incredulous  in  what  professes  to  be  imaginary ;  and  that, 
while,  every  day  in  real  life,  it  will  allow  in  one  man  no  blem- 
ishes, and  in  another  no  virtues,  it  will  seldom  admit  a  very 
strongly-marked  character,  either  good  or  bad,  in  a  fictitious 
narrative,  to  be  within  the  limits  of  probability.  But  those 
who  take  an  interest  in  this  tale,  will  be  glad  to  learn  that  the 
Brothers  Cheeryble  live  ;  that  their  liberal  charity,  their 
singleness  of  heart,  their  noble  nature,  and  their  unbounded 
benevolence,  are  no  creations  of  the  Author's  brain  ;  but  are 
prompting  every  day  (and  oftenest  by  stealth)  some  munificent 
and  generous  deed  in  that  town  of  which  they  are  the  pride 
and  honor." 

If  I  were  to  attempt  to  sum  up  the  thousands  of  letters, 
from  all  sorts  of  people  in  all  sorts  of  latitudes  and  climates, 
which  this  unlucky  paragraph  brought  down  upon  me,  I 
should  get  into  an  arithmetical  difficulty  from  which  I  could 
not  easily  extricate  myself.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I  believe 
the  applications  for  loans,  gifts,  and  offices  of  profit,  that  I 
have  been  requested  to  forward  to  the  originals  of  the  Broth- 
ers Cheeryble  (with  whom  I  never  interchanged  any  com- 
munication in  my  life),  would  have  exhausted  the  combined 
patronage  of  all  the  Lord  Chancellors  since  the  accession  of 
the  House  of  Brunswick,  and  would  have  broken  the  Rest  of 
the  Bank  of  England. 

The  Brothers  are  now  dead. 

There  is  only  one  other  point,  on  which  I  w^ould  desire  to 
offer  a  remark.  If  Nicholas  be  not  always  found  to  be  blame- 
less or  agreeable,  he  is  not  always  intended  to  appear  so.  He 
is  a  young  man  of  an  impetuous  temper  and  of  little  or  no 
experience  ;  and  I  saw  no  reason  why  such  a  hero  should  be 
lifted  out  of  nature. 


CONTENTS. 


CBAP.  PAGE. 

I.  Introduces  all  the  rest 7 

II.  Of  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby,  and  his  establishment,  and 
his  undertakings.  And  of  a  great  joint  stock  com- 
pany of  vast  national  importance 12 

III.  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  receives  sad  tidings  of  his 
brother,  but  bears  up  nobly  against  the  intelligence 
communicated  to  him.  The  reader  is  informed 
how  he  liked  Nicholas,  who  is  herein  introduced, 
and  how  kindly  he  proposed  to  make  his  fortune  at 

once 23 

IV.  Nicholas  and  his  uncle  (to  secure  tlie  fortune  without 
loss  of  time)  wait  upon  Mr.  Wackford  Squeers,  the 

Yorkshire   schoolmaster 34 

V.   Nicholas  starts  for  Yorkshire.     Of  his  leave-taking 
and  his  fellow-travellers,  and  what  befel  them  on 

the  road 47 

VI.  In  which  the  occurrence,  of  the  accident  mentioned 
in  the  last  chapter,  affords  an  opportunity  to  a 
couple   of  gentlemen   to   tell   stories  against  each 

other ." 58 

VII.   Mr.  and  Mrs.  Squeers  at  home 80 

VI II.  Of  the  internal  economy  of  Dotheboys  Hall 89 

IX.  Of  Miss  Squeers,  Mrs.  Squeers,  IVlaster  Squeers, 
and  -Mr.  Squeers;  and  of  various  matters  and  per- 
sons  connected   no  less  with  the   Squeerses  than 

with  Nicholas   Nickleby 102 

X.   How  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  provided  for  his  niece  and 

sister-in  law 118 

XI.  Newman    Noggs    inducts    Mrs.  and   Miss   Nickleby 

into  their  new  dwelling  in  the  city 132 

XII.  Whereby   the   reader   will   be    enabled   to   trace    the 

further  course  of  Miss   Fanny  Squeers "s  love,  and 

to  ascertain  whether  it  ran  smooth  or  otherwise.  .  .    137 

XIII.  Nicholas  varies  the  monotonv  of  Dotheboys  Hall  by 

a  most  vigorous  and  remarkable  proceeding,  which 

leads  to  consequences  of  some  importance 149 

3 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  _  _  PAGB. 

XIV.  Having  the  misfortune  to  treat  of  none  but  common 
people,    is    necessarily    of     a    mean    and    vulgar 

character    163 

XV.  Acquaints  the  reader  with  the  cause  and  origin  of  the 
interruption  destribed  in  the  last  chapter,  and  with 

some  other  matters  necessary  to  be  known 175 

XVI.  Nicholas  seeks  to  employ  himself  in  a  new  capacity, 
and  being  unsuccessful,  accepts  an  engagement  as 

tutor  in  a  private  family r88 

XVI  I.   Follows  the  fortunes  of  Miss  Nickleby 208 

XVin.  Miss  Knag,  after  doating  on  Kate  Nickleby  for  three 
whole  days,  makes  up  her  mind  to  hate  her  for 
evermore.     The  causes  which  lead   Miss   Knag  to 

form  this  resolution 217 

XIX.  Descriptive  of  a  dinner  at  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby's,  and 
of  the  manner  in  which  the  company  entertained 
themselves,   before    dinner,    at    dinner,    and   after 

dinner.  ...    231 

XX.  Wherein  Nicholas  at  length  encounters  his  uncle,  to 
whom  he  expresses  his  sentiments  with  much  can- 
dor.    His  resolution 247 

XXI.  Madame  Mantalini  finds  herself  in  a  situation  of  some 
difficulty,  and   Miss   Nickleby  finds  herself  in   no 

situation  at  all 259 

XXII.  Nicholas,  accompanied  by  Smike,  sallies  forth  to  seek 
his  fortune.  He  encounters  Mr.  Vincent  Crumm- 
ies; and  who  he  was,  is  herein  made  manifest 272 

XXII I.   Treats  of   the  company  of    Mr.  Vincent   Crummies, 

and  of  his  affairs,  domestic  and  theatrical 287 

XXIV.  Of  the  great  bespeak  for  Miss  Snevellicci,  and  the 

first  appearance  of  Nicholas  upon  any  stage 30a 

XXV.  Concerning  a  young  lady  from  London,  who  joins 
the  company,  and  an  elderlv  admirer  who  follows 
in  her  train ;  with  an  affecting  ceremony  conse- 
quent on  their  arrival 317 

XXVI.   Is  fraught    with    some    danger   to    Miss    Nickleby's 

peace  of  mind 330 

XXVII.  Mrs.    Nickleby   becomes    acquainted    with    Messrs. 

Pyke  and  Pluck,  whose  affection  and  interest  are 
beyond  all  bounds 341 

XXVIII.  Miss  Nicklebv,  rendered  desperate  by  the  persecu- 

tion of  Sir  IVIulbcrry  Hawk,  and  the  complicated 
difficulties  and  distresses  which  surround  her,  ap- 
peals, as  a  last  resource,  to  her  uncle  for  protection  356 

XXIX.  Of  the  proceedings  of  Nicholas,  and  certain  internal 

divisions  in  the  company  of  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  373 
XXX.   Festivities  are  held  in  honor  of  Nicholas,  who  sud- 
denly withdraws  himself  from  the  society  of   Mr. 
Vincent  Crummies  and  his  theatrical  companions.   382 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

XXXI. 


XXXII. 

XXXIII, 

XXXIV 

XXXV 

XXXVI 

XXXVII, 


Of  Ralph  Nickleby  and  Newman  Noggs,  and  some 
wise  precautioiLS,  the  succe.ss  or  faikire  of  which 
will  appear  in  the  sequel 398 

Relating  chiefly  to  some  remarkable  conversation, 
and    some   remarkable   proceedings   to  which  it 


406 


416 


423 


440 


In  which  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  is  relieved,  by  a  very 
expeditious  process,  from 'all  commerce  with  his 

relations 

Wherein  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  is  visited  by  persons 
with  whom    the    reader  has  been  already  made 

acquainted 

Smike  becomes  known  to  Mrs.  Nickleby  and  Kate. 
Nicholas  also  meets  with  new  acquaintances. 
Brighter  days  seem  to  dawn  upon  the  family.  . .  . 
Private  and  confidential ;  relating  to  familv  matters. 
Showing  how  Mr.  Kenwigs  underwent  violent 
agitation,  and  how  Mrs.  Kenwigs  was  as  well  as 

could  be  expected 457 

Nicholas  finds  further  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the 
brothers  Cheeryble  and  Mr.  Timothy  Linkin- 
water.  The  brothers  give  a  banquet  on  a  great 
annual  occasion.  Nicholas,  on  returning  home 
from  it,  receives  a  mysterious  and  important  dis- 
closure from  the  lips  of  Mrs.  Nickleby 465 

XXXVIII.  Comprises  certain  particulars  arising  out  of  a  visit 
of  condolence,  which  may  prove  important  here- 
after. Smike  unexpectedly  encounters  a  very 
old  friend,  who  invites  him  to  his  house,  and  will 

take  no  denial 483 

XXXIX.   In    which    another   old    friend    encounters    Smike, 

very  opportunely  and  to  some  purpose 498 

XL.  In  which  Nicholas  falls  in  love.  He  employs  a 
mediator,  whose  proceedings  are  crowned  with 
unexpected    success,  excepting   in    one    solitary 

particular ^07 

XLI.   Containing  some  romantic  passages  between  Mrs. 
Nickleby  and  the  gentleman  in  the  small-clothes 

next  door 

XLI  I.  Illustrative  of  the  convivial  sentiment,  that  the  best 

of  friends  must  sometimes  part 

XLI  1 1.  Officiates  as  a  kind  of  gentleman  usher,  in  bring- 
ing various  people  together 548 

XLIV.  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  cuts  an  old  acquaintance.  It 
would  also  appear  from  the  contents  hereof,  that 
a  joke,  even  between  husband  and  wife,  may  be 

sometimes  carried  too  far 562 

XLV.   Containing  matter  of  a  surprising  kind 577 

XLVI.  Throws    some    light    upon     Nicholas's    love;    but 


524 
537 


S  CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  PAGE. 

whether  for  good  or  evil,  the  reader  must  de- 
termine     590 

XLVII.  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  has  some  confidential  inter- 
course with  another  old  friend.  They  concert 
between  them  a  project,  which  promises  well  for 

both 604 

XLVIII.  Being  for  the  benefit  of   Mr.  Vincent  Crummies, 

and  positively  his  last  appearance  on  this  stage.   620 
XLIX.  Chronicles  the  further  proceedings  of  the  Nickleby 
family,  and  the  sequel  of  the  adventure  of  the 

gentleman  in  the  small-clothes 631 

L.  Involves  a  serious  catastrophe 647 

LI.  The  project  of  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  and  his  friend, 
approaching  a  successful  issue,  becomes  unex- 
pectedlv  known   to  another  party  not  admitted 

into  their  confidence 661 

LI  I.  Nicholas  despairs  of  rescuing  Madeline  Bray,  but 
plucks  up  his  spirits  again,  and  determines  to 
attempt  it.     Domestic  inteUigence  of  the   Ken- 

wigses  and   Lillyvicks -. 672 

LIII.  Containing  the  further  progress  of  the  plot  con- 
trived  by  Mr.  Ralph   Nickleby  and   Mr.  Arthur 

Gride 685 

LIV.  The  crisis  of  the  project  and  its  result 701 

LV.  Of  family  matters,  cares,  hopes,  disappointments, 

and  sorrows 713 

LVI.  Ralph  Nicklel.iy,  baffled  by  his  nephew  in  his  late 
design,  hatches  a  scheme  of  retaliation  which 
accident    suggests    to    him,  and    takes    into   his 

counsels  a  tried  auxiliary 726 

LVII.  How  Ralph    Nickleby's   auxiliary  went  about   his 

work,  and  how  he  prospered  with  it 738 

LVin.   In  which  one  scene  of  this  history  is  closed 749 

LIX.  The  plots  begin  to  fail,  and  doubts  and  dangers  to 

disturb  the  plotter 755 

LX.  The  dangers  thicken,  and  the  worst  is  told 770 

LXI.  Wherein    Nicholas  and  his  sister  forfeit  the  good 

opinion  of  all  worldly  and  prudent  people 781 

LXII.   Ralph  makes  one  last  appointment — and  keeps  it..    791 
LXI  1 1.   The  brothers  Cheeryble  make  various  declarations 
for   themselves   and    others.     Tim    Linkinwater 

makes  a  declaration  for  himself 797 

LXIV.  An   old  acquaintance  is   recognized  under  melan- 
choly circumstances,  and  Dotheboys  Hall  breaks 

uj)  for  ever 808 

LXV.  Conclusion 817 


LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES 


OF 


NICHOLAS    NICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCES    ALL    THE    REST. 


There  once  lived,  in  a  sequestered  part  of  the  county  of 
Devonshire,  one  Mr.  Godfrey  Nickleby  :  a  worthy  gentleman, 
who  taking  it  into  his  head  rather  late  in  life  that  he  must 
get  married,  and  not  being  young  enough  or  rich  enough  to 
aspire  to  the  hand  of  a  lady  of  fortune,  had  wedded  an  old 
flame  out  of  mere  attachment,  who  in  her  turn  had  taken  him 
for  the  same  reason.  Thus  two  people  who  cannot  afford  to 
play  cards  for  money,  sometimes  sit  down  to  a  quiet  game  for 
love. 

Some  ill-conditioned  persons  who  sneer  at  the  life-matri- 
monial, may  perhaps  suggest,  in  this  place,  that  the  good 
couple  would  be  better  likened  to  two  principals  in  a  sparring 
match,  who,  when  fortune  is  low  and  backers  scarce,  will  chiv- 
alrously set  to,  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  buffeting  ;  and  in  one 
respect  indeed  this  comparison  would  hold  good  :  for,  as  the 
adventurous  pair  of  the  Fives'  Court  will  afterwards  send 
round  a  hat  and  trust  to  the  bounty  of  the  lookers-on  for  the 
means  of  regaling  themselves,  so  Mr.  Godfrey  Nickleby  and 
his  partner,  the  honey-moon  beinc:  over,  looked  wistfully  out 
into  the  world,  relying  in  no  considerable  degree  upon  chance 


8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

for  the  improvement  of  their  means.     ATr.  Nirklehy'*;  inrnmp 
at  the  period  of  liis   marriage^ -fluctuated   between   sixty  and 
eighty  pounds /tv  annum. 

There  arc  pcuplc  enough  in  the  world,  Heaven  knows!  and 
even  in  London  (where  Mr.  Nickleby  dwelt  in  those  days)  but 
few  complaints  prevail  of  the  population  being  scanty.  It  is 
extraordinary  how  long  a  man  may  look  among  the  crowd 
without  discovering  the  face  of  a  friend,  but  it  is  no  less  true. 
Mr.  Nickleby  looked,  and  looked,  till  his  eyes  became  sore  as 
his  heart,  but  no  friend  appeared  ;  and,  when  growing  tired  of 
the  search,  he  turned  his  eyes  homeward,  he  saw  very  little 
there,  to  relieve  his  weary  vision.  A  painter  who  had  gazed 
too  long  upon  some  glaring  color,  refreshes  his  dazzled  sight 
by  looking  upon  a  darker  and  more  sombre  tint ;  but  everything 
that  met  Mr.  Nickleby's  gaze  wore  so  dark  and  gloomy  a  hue, 
that  he  would  have  been  beyond  description  refreshed  by  the 
very  reverse  of  the  contrast. 

At  length,  after  five  years,  when  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  pre- 
sented her  husband  with  a  couple  of  sons,  and  that  embar- 
rassed gentleman,  impressed  with  the  necessity  of  making 
some  provision  for  his  family,  was  seriously  revolving  in  his 
mind  a  little  commercial  speculation  of  insuring  his  life  next 
quarter  day,  and  then  falling  from  the  top  of  the  Monument 
by  accident,  there  came,  one  morning,  by  the  general  post,  a 
black-bordered  letter  to  inform  him  how  his  uncle,  Mr.  Ralph 
Nickleby  was  dead,  and  had  left  him  the  bulk  of  his  little 
property,  amounting  in  all  to  five  thousand  pounds  sterling. 

As  the  deceased  had  taken  no  further  notice  of  his  nephew 
in  his  lifetime,  than  sending  to  his  eldest  boy  (who  had  been 
christened  after  him,  on  desperate  speculation)  a  silver  spoon 
in  a  morocco  case,  which,  as  he  had  not  too  much  to  eat  with 
it,  seemed  a  kind  of  satire  upon  his  having  been  born  without 
that  useful  article  of  plate  in  his  mouth,  Mr.  Godfrey  Nickleby 
could,  at  first,  scarcely  believ^e  the  tidings  thus  conveyed  to 
him.  On  examination,  however,  they  turned  out  to  be  strictly 
correct.  The  amiable  old  gentleman,  it  seemed,  had  intended 
to  leave  the  whole  to  the  Royal  Humane  Societ}',  and  had  in- 
deed executed  a  will  to  that  effect  ;  but  the  Institution,  having 
been  unfortunate  enough,  a  few  months  before,  to  save  the  life 
of  a  poor  relation  to  whom  he  paid  a  weekly  allowance  of  three 
shillings  and  sixpence,  he  had  in  a  fit  of  very  natural  exasper- 
ation, revoked  the  bequest  in  a  codicil,  and  left  it  all  to  Mr, 
Godfrey  Nickleby ;  with  a  special  mention  of  his  indignation, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  g 

not  only  against  the  society  for  saving  the  poor  relation's  life, 
but  against  the  poor  relation  also,  for  allowing  himself  to  be 
saved. 

With  a  portion  of  this  property  Mr.  Godfrey  Nickleby 
purchased  a  small  farm,  near  Dawlish  in  Devonshire,  whither 
he  retired  with  his  wife  and  two  children,  to  live  upon  the 
best  interest  he  could  get  for  the  rest  of  the  money,  and  the 
little  produce  he  could  raise  from  his  land.  The  two  pros- 
pered so  well  together  that,  when  he  died,  some  fifteen  years 
after  this  period,  and  some  five  after  his  wife,  he  was  enabled  to 
leave,  to  his  eldest  son,  Ralph,  three  thousand  pounds  in  cash, 
and  to  his  youngest  son,  Nicholas,  one  thousand  and  the  farm, 
which  was  as  small  a  landed  estate  as  one  would  desire  to 
see. 

These  two  brothers  had  been  brought  up  together  in  a  school 
at  Exeter  ;  and  being  accustomed  to  go  home  once  a  week, 
had  often  heard  from  their  mother's  lips,  long  accounts  of  their 
father's  sufferings  in  his  days  of  poverty,  and  of  their  deceased 
uncle's  importance  in  his  days  of  affluence  :  which  recitals 
produced  a  very  difterent  impression  on  the  two :  for,  while 
the  younger  was  of  a  timid  and  retiring  disposition,  gleaned 
from  thence  nothing  but  forewarnings  to  shun  the  great  world 
and  attach  himself  to  the  quiet  routine  of  country  life,  Ralph, 
the  elder,  deduced  from  the  often-repeated  tale  the  two  great 
morals  that  riches  are  the  only  true  source  of  happiness  and 
power,  and  that  it  is  lawful  and  just  to  compass  their  acquisi- 
tion by  all  means  short  of  felony.  "  And,"  reasoned  Ralph 
with  himself,  "  if  no  good  came  of  my  uncle's  money  when  he 
was  alive,  a  great  deal  of  good  came  of  it  after  he  was  dead, 
inasmuch  as  my  father  has  got  it  now,  and  is  saving  it  up  for 
me,  which  is  a  highly  virtuous  purpose  ;  and,  going  back  to  the 
old  gentleman,  good  did  come  to  him  too,  for  he  had  the 
pleasure  of  thinking  of  it  all  his  life  long,  and  of  being  envied 
and  courted  by  all  his  family  besides."  And  Ralph  always 
wound  up  these  mental  soliloquies  by  arriv-ing  at  the  conclu- 
sion, that  there  was  nothing  like  money.  , 

Not  confining  himself  to  theor)',  or  permitting  his  faculties 
to  rust,  even  at  that  early  age,  in  mere  abstract  speculations, 
this  promising  lad  commenced  usurer  on  a  limited  scale  at 
school  ;  putting  out  at  good  interest  a  small  capital  of  slate- 
pencil  and  marbles,  and  gradually  extending  his  operations 
until  they  aspired  to  the  copper  coinage  of  this  realm,  in  which 
he  speculated  to  considerable  advantage.     Nor  did  he  trouble 


I  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

his  borrowers  wijh  abstract  calculations  of  figures,  or  refer- 
ences to  ready-reckoners  ;  his  simple  rule  of  interest  being  all 
comprised  in  the  one  golden  sentence,  "  two-pence  for  every 
half-penny,"  which  greatly  simplified  the  accounts,  and  which 
as  a  familiar  precept,  more  easily  acquired  and  retained  in  the 
memory  tlian  any  known  rule  of  arithmetic,  cannot  be  too 
strongly  recommended  to  the  notice  of  capitalists,  both  large 
and  small,  and  more  especially  of  money-brokers  and  bill-dis- 
counters. Indeed,  to  do  these  gentlemen  justice  many  of  them 
are  to  this  day  in  the  frequent  habit  of  adopting  it,  with  emi- 
nent success. 

In  like  manner  did  young  Ralph  Nickleby  avoid  all  those 
minute  and  intricate  calculations  of  odd  days,  which  nobody 
who  has  worked  sums  in  simple  interest  can  fail  to  have  found 
most  embarrassing,  by  establishing  the  one  general  rule  that 
all  sums  of  principal  and  interest  should  be  paid  on  pocket- 
money  day,  that  is  to  say,  on  Saturday  :  and  that  whether  a 
loan  were  contracted  on  the  Monday,  or  on  the  Friday,  the 
amount  of  interest  should  be,  in  both  cases,  the  same.  In- 
deed he  argued,  and  with  great  show  of  reason,  that  it  ought 
to  be  rather  more  for  one  day  than  for  five,  inasmuch  as  the 
borrower  might  in  the  former  case  be  ver^'  fairly  presumed  to 
be  in  great  extremity,  otherwise  he  would  not  borrow  at  all 
with  such  odds  against  him.  The  fact  is  interesting,  as  illus- 
trating the  secret  connection  and  sympathy  which  always  ex- 
ists between  great  minds.  Though  Master  Ralph  Nickleby 
was  not  at  that  time  aware  of  it,  the  class  of  gentlemen  before 
alluded  to,  proceed  on  just  the  same  principle  in  all  their 
transactions. 

From  what  we  have  said  of  this  young  gentleman,  and  the 
natural  admiration  the  reader  will  immediately  conceive  of  his 
character,  it  may  perhaps  be  inferred  that  he  is  to  be  the  hero 
of  the  work  which  we  shall  presently  begin.  To  set  this  point 
at  rest,  for  once  and  for  ever,  we  hasten  to  undeceive  them, 
and  stride  to  its  commencement. 

On  the  death  of  his  father,  Ralph  Nickleby,  who  had  been 
some  time  before  placed  in  a  mercantile  house  in  London,  ap- 
plied himself  passionately  to  his  old  pursuit  of  money-getting, 
in  which  he  speedily  became  so  buried  and  absorbed,  that  he 
quite  forgot  his  brother  for  many  years  ;  and  if,  at  times,  a  rec- 
ollection of  his  old  playfellow  broke  upon  him  through  the  haze 
in  which  he  lived — for  gold  conjures  up  a  mist  about  a  man 
more  destructive  of  all  his  old  senses  and  lulling  to  his  feelings 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  1 1 

than  the  fumes  of  charcoal — it  brought  along  with  it  a  com- 
panion thought,  that  if  they  were  intimate  he  would  want  to 
borrow  money  of  liim.  So  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  said  things  were  better  as  they  were. 

As  for  Nicholas,  he  lived  a  single  man  on  the  patrimonial 
estate  until  he  grew  tired  of  living  alone,  and  then  he  took  to 
wife  the  daughter  of  a  neighboring  gentleman  with  a  dower 
of  one  thousand  pounds.  This  good  lady  bore  him  two  chil- 
dren, a  son  and  a  daughter,  and  when  the  son  was  about  nine- 
teen, and  the  daughter  fourteen,  as  near  as  we  can  guess — im- 
partial records  of  young  ladies'  ages  being,  before  the  passing 
of  the  new  act,  nowhere  preserved  in  the  registries  of  this 
country — Mr.  Nickleby  looked  about  him  for  the  means  of  re- 
pairing his  capital,  now  sadly  reduced  by  this  increase  in  his 
family,  and  the  expenses  of  their  education. 

"Speculate  with  it,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  Spec — u — late,  my  dear  ?  "  said  Mr.  Nickleby,  as  though 
in  doubt. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  Because,  my  dear,  if  we  should  lose  it,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Nickleby,  who  was  a  slow  and  time-taking  speaker,  "  if  we 
should  lose  it,  we  shall  no  longer  be  able  to  live,  my  dear." 

"  Fiddle,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  I  am  not  altogether  sure  of  that,  my  dear,"  said  Mr. 
Nickleby. 

"  There's  Nicholas,"  pursued  the  lady,  "  quite  a  young 
man — it's  time  he  was  doing  something  for  himself ;  and  Kate 
too,  poor  girl,  without  a  penny  in  the  world.  Think  of  your 
brother !     Would  he  be  what  he  is,  if  he  hadn't  speculated  ?  " 

"  That's  true,"  replied  Mr.  Nickleby.  "  Very  good,  my 
dear.     Yes.     I  ivill  speculate,  my  dear." 

Speculation  is  a  round  game  ;  the  players  see  little  or 
nothing  of  their  cards  at  first  starting ;  gains  may  be  great — 
and  so  may  losses.  The  run  of  luck  went  against  Mr.  Nickle- 
by. A  mania  prevailed,  a  bubble  burst,  four  stockbrokers 
took  villa  residences  at  Florence,  four  hundred  nobodies 
were  ruined,  and  among  them  Mr.  Nickleby. 

"  The  very  house  I  live  in,"  sighed  the  poor  gentleman, 
"  may  be  taken  from  me  to-morrow.  Not  an  article  of  my  old 
furniture,  but  will  be  sold  to  strangers  !  " 

The  last  reflection  hurt  him  so  much,  that  he  took  at  once 
to  his  bed  ;  apparently  resolved  to  keep  that,  at  all  events. 

"  Cheer  up,  sir !  "  said  the  apothecary. 


1 2  NICIIOL  A  S  NICKL  EB  V. 

"  You  musn't  let  yourself  be  cast  down,  sir,"  said  the 
nurse. 

"  Such  things  happen  every  day,"  remarked  the  lawyer. 

"  And  it  is  very  sintul  to  rebel  against  them,"  whispered 
the  clergyman. 

"And  what  no  man  with  a  family  ought  to  do,"  added  the 
neighbors. 

Mr.  Nickleby  shook  his  head,  and  motioning  them  all  out 
of  the  room,  embraced  his  wife  and  children,  and  having 
pressed  them  by  turns  to  his  languidly  beating  heart,  sunk 
exhausted  on  his  pillow.  They  were  concerned  to  find  that 
his  reason  went  astray  after  this  ;  for  he  babbled,  for  a  long 
time,  about  the  generosity  and  goodness  of  his  brother,  and 
the  merry  old  time  when  they  were  at  school  together.  This 
fit  of  wandering  past,  he  solemnly  commended  them  to  One 
who  never  deserted  the  widow  or  her  fatherless  children,  and, 
smiling  gently  on  them,  turned  upon  his  face  and  observed 
that  he  thought  he  could  fall  asleep. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF  MR.  RALPH  NICKLEBY,  AND  HIS  ESTABLISHMENT,  AND  HIS 
UNDERTAKINGS.  AND  OF  A  GREAT  JOINT  STOCK  COMPANY 
OF    VAST    NATIONAL    IMPORTANCE. 

Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  what  you 
would  call  a  merchant,  neither  was  he  a  banker,  nor  an  attor- 
ney, nor  a  special  pleader,  nor  a  notary.  He  was  certainly 
not  a  tradesman,  and  still  less  could  he  lay  any  claim  to  the 
title  of  a  professional  gentleman  ;  for  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible to  mention  any  recognized  profession  to  which  he  be- 
longed. Nevertheless,  as  he  lived  in  a  spacious  house  in 
Golden  Square,  which,  in  addition  to  a  brass  plate  upon  the 
street-door,  had  another  brass  plate  two  sizes  and  a  half  small- 
er upon  the  left  hand  door-post,  surmounting  a  brass  model 
of  an  infant's  fist  grasping  a  fragment  of  a  skewer,  and  dis- 
playing the  word  "Office,"  it  was  clear  that  Mr.  Ralph  Nickle- 
by did,  or  pretended  to  do,  business  of  some  kind  ;  and  the 
fact,   if  it  required  any  further  circumstantial  evidence,  was 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  13 

abundantly  demonstrated,  by  the  diurnal  attendance,  between 
the  hours  of  half-past  nine  and  five,  of  a  sallow-faced  man  in 
rusty  brown,  who  sat  upon  an  uncommonly  hard  stool  in  a  spe- 
cies of  butler's  pantry  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  and  always 
had  a  pen  behind  his  ear  when  he  answered  the  bell. 

Although  a  few  members  of  the  graver  professions  live 
about  the  Golden  Square,  it  is  not  exactly  in  anybody's  way 
to  or  from  anywhere.  It  is  one  of  the  squares  that  have  been  , 
a  quarter  of  the  town  that  has  gone  down  in  the  world,  and 
taking  to  letting  lodgings.  Many  of  its  first  and  second  floors 
are  let,  furnishe"d,to  single  gentlemen  ;  and  it  takes  boarders  be- 
sides. It  is  a  great  resort  of  foreigners.  The  dark-complex- 
ioned men  who  wear  large  rings,  and  heavy  watch-guards,  and 
bushy  whiskers,  and  who  congregate  under  the  Opera  Colon- 
nade, and  about  the  box-office  in  the  season,  between  four  and 
five  in  the  afternoon,  when  they  give  away  the  orders, — all 
live  in  Golden  Square,  or  within  a  street  of  it.  Two  or  three 
violins  and  a  wind  instrument  from  the  Opera  band  reside 
within  its  precincts.  Its  boarding-houses  are  musical,  and 
the  notes  of  pianos  and  harps  float  in  the  evening  time  round 
the  head  of  the  mournful  statue,  the  guardian  genius  of  a  little 
wilderness  of  shrubs,  in  the  centre  of  the  square.  On  a  sum- 
mer's night,  windows  are  thrown  open,  and  groups  of  swarthy, 
mustacMoed  men  are  seen  by  the  passer-by,  lounging  at  the 
casements,  and  smoking  fearfully.  Sounds  of  gruff  voices 
practising  vocal  music  invade  the  evening's  silence  ;  and  the 
fumes  of  choice  tobacco  scent  the  air.  There,  snuff  and 
cigars,  and  German  pipes  and  flutes,  and  violins  and  violon- 
cellos, di\ide  the  supremacy  between  them,  j^  It  is  the  region 
of  song  and  smoke.  Street  bands  are  on  their  mettle  in 
Golden  Square  ;  and  itinerant  glee-singers  quaver  involuntarily 
as  they  raise  their  voices  within  its  boundaries. 

This  would  not  seem  a  spot  very  well  adapted  to  the  trans- 
action of  business  ;  but  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  had  lived  there, 
notwithstanding,  for  many  years,  and  uttered  no  complaint  on 
that  score.  He  knew  nobody  round  about,  and  nobody  knew 
him,  although  he  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  being  immensely 
jrfch.  The  tradesmen  held  that  he  was  a  sort  of  lawyer,  and  the 
other  neighbors  opined  that  he  was  a  kind  of  general  agent ; 
both  of  which  guesses  were  as  correct  and  definite  as  guesses 
about  other  people's  affairs  usually  are,  or  need  to  be. 

Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  sat  in  his  private  office  one  morn- 
ing, ready  dressed  to  walk  abroad.     He  wore  a  bottle-green 


14 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


spencer  over  a  blue  coat  ;  a  white  waistcoat,  gray  mixture  pan- 
taloons, and  Wellington  boots  drawn  over  them.  The  corner 
of  a  small-plaited  shirt-frill  struggled  out,  as  if  insisting  to 
show  itself,  from  between  his  chin  and  the  top  button  of  his 
spencer  ;  and  the  latter  garment  was  not  made  low  enough  to 
conceal  a  long  gold  watch-chain,  composed  of  a  series  of  plain 
rings,  which  had  its  beginning  at  the  handle  of  a  gold  repeater 
in  Mr.  Nickleby's  pocket,  and  its  termination  in  two  little 
keys  :  one  belonging  to  the  watch  itself  and  the  other  to  some 
patent  padlock.  He  wore  a  sprinkling  of  powder  upon  his 
head,  as  if  to  make  himself  look  benevolent ;  and  if  that  were 
his  purpose,  he  would  perhaps  have  done  better  to  powder 
his  countenance  also,  for  there  was  something  in  its  very 
wrinkles,  and  in  his  cold  restless  eye,  which  seemed  to  tell  of 
cunning  that  would  announce  itself  in  spite  of  him.  How- 
ever this  might  be,  there  he  was  ;  and  he  was  all  alone, 
neither  the  powder,  nor  the  wrinkles,  nor  the  eyes,  had  the 
smallest  effect,  good  or  bad,  upon  anybody  just  then,  and  are 
consequently  no  business  of  ours  just  now. 

Mr.  Nickleby  closed  an  account-book  which  lay  on  his 
desk,  and,  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  gazed  with  an 
air  of  abstraction  through  the  dirty  window.  Some  London 
houses  have  a  melancholy  little  plot  of  ground  behind  them, 
usually  fenced  in  by  four  high  whitewashed  walls,  and  frowned 
upon  by  stacks  of  chimneys  :  in  which  there  withers  on,  from 
year  to  year,  a  crippled  tree,  that  makes  a  show  of  putting 
forth  a  few  leaves  late  in  autumn  when  other  trees  shed  theirs, 
and,  drooping  in  the  effort,  lingers  on,  all  crackled  and  smoke- 
dried,  till  the  following  season,  when  it  repeats  the  same  pro- 
cess, and  perhaps  if  the  weather  be  particularly  genial,  even 
tempts  some  rheumatic  sparrow  to  chirrup  in  its  branches. 
People  sometimes  call  these  dark  yards  "gardens;"  it  is  not 
supposed  that  they  were  ever  planted,  but  rather  that  they  are 
pieces  of  unreclaimed  land,  with  the  withered  vegetation  of 
the  original  brick-field.  No  man  thinks  of  walking  in  this 
desolate  place,  or  of  turning  it  to  any  account.  A  few  ham- 
pers, half-a-dozen  broken  bottles,  and  such-like  rubbish,  may 
be  thrown  there,  when  the  tenant  first  moves  in,  but  nothing 
more  ;  and  there  they  remain  until  he  goes  away  again  :  the 
damp  straw  taking  just  as  long  to  moulder  as  it  thinks  proper  : 
and  mingling  with  the  scanty  box,  and  stunted  everbrovvns, 
and  broken  (lower-pots,  that  are  scattered  mournfully  about — • 
a  prey  to  "  blacks  "  and  tiirt. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


IS 


It  was  into  a  place  of  this  kind  that  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby 
gazed,  as  he  sat  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  looking  out  at 
window.  He  had  fixed  his  eyes  upon  a  distorted  fir-tree, 
planted  by  some  former  tenant  in  a  tub  that  had  once  been 
green,  and  left  there,  years  before,  to  rot  away  piecemeal. 
There  was  nothing  very  inviting  in  the  object,  but  Mr.  Nickle- 
by was  wrapt  in  a  brown  study,  and  sat  contemplating  it  with 
far  greater  attention  than,  in  a  more  conscious  mood,  he  would 
have  deigned  to  bestow  upon  the  rarest  exotic.  At  length, 
his  eyes  wandered  to  a  little  dirty  window  on  the  left,  through 
which  the  face  of  the  clerk  was  dimly  visible  ;  that  worthy 
chancing  to  look  up,  he  beckoned  him  to  attend. 

In  obedience  to  this  summons  the  clerk  got  off  the  high 
stool  (to  which  he  had  communicated  a  high  polish  by  count- 
less gettings  off  and  on),  and  presented  himself  in  Mr.  Nickle- 
by's  room.  He  was  a  tall  man  of  middle-age,  with  two  goggle- 
eyes,  whereof  one  was  a  fixture,  a  rubicund  nose,  a  cadaver- 
ous face,  and  a  suit  of  clothes  (if  the  term  be  allowable  when 
they  suited  him  not  atallj  much  the  worse  for  wear,  very  much 
too  small,  and  placed  upon  such  a  short  allowance  of  buttons 
that  it  was  marvellous  how  he  contrived  to  keep  them  on. 

"  Was  that  half-past  twelve,  Noggs  ?  "  said  Mr.  Nickleby, 
in  a  sharp  and  grating  voice. 

"  Not  more  than  five-and-twenty  minutes  by  the — "  Noggs 
was  going  to  add  public-house  clock,  but  recollecting  himself, 
substituted  "  regular  time." 

"  My  watch  has  stopped,"  said  Mr.  Nickleby  :  "  I  don't 
know  from  what  cause." 

"  Not  wound  up,"  said  Noggs. 

"  Yes  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Nickleby. 

"  Over-wound  then,"  rejoined  Noggs. 

"That  can't  very  well  be,"  observed  Mr.  Nickleby. 

"  Must  be,"  said  Noggs. 

"  Well  !  "  said  Mr.  Nickleby,  putting  the  repeater  back  in 
his  pocket  ;  "  perhaps  it  is." 

Noggs  gave  a  peculiar  grunt,  as  was  his  custom  at  the  end 
of  all  disputes  with  his  master,  to  imply  that  he  (Noggs)  tri- 
umphed ;  and  (as  he  rarely  spoke  to  anybody  unless  some- 
body spoke  to  him)  fell  into  a  grim  silence,  and  rubbed  his 
hands  slowly  over  each  other  :  cracking  the  joints  of  his  fin- 
gers, and  squeezing  them  into  all  possible  distortions.  The 
incessant  performance  of  this  routine  on  eveiy  occasion,  and 
the  connnunication  of  a  fixed  and  ri^id  look  to  his  unaffected 


'O' 


1 6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

eye,  so  as  to  make  it  uniform  with  the  other,  and  to  render  it 
impossible  for  anybody  to  determine  where  or  at  what  he  was 
looking,  were  two  among  the  numerous  peculiarities  of  Mr. 
Noggs,  which  struck  an  inexperienced  observer  at  first  sight. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  London  Tavern  this  morning,"  said 
Mr.  Nickleby. 

"  Public  meeting?  "  inquired  Noggs. 

Mr.  Nickleby  nodded.  "  1  expect  a  letter  from  the  solici- 
tor respecting  that  mortgage  of  Ruddle's.  If  it  comes  at  all, 
it  will  be  here  by  the  two  o'clock  deliver}'.  I  shall  leave  the 
city  by  that  time  and  walk  to  Charing-Cross  on  the  left-hand 
side  of  the  way  ;  if  there  are  any  letters,  come  and  meet  me  ; 
and  bring  them  with  you." 

Noggs  nodded  ;  and  as  he  nodded,  there  came  a  ring  at 
the  office  bell.  The  master  looked  up  from  his  papers,  and 
the  clerk  calmly  remained  in  a  stationary  position. 

"  The  bell  "  said  Noggs,  as  though  in  explanation.  "  At 
home  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  To  anybody  >  " 

"  Yes." 

"To  the  tax-gatherer?" 

"No  !     Let  him  call  again." 

Noggs  gave  vent  to  his  usual  grunt,  as  much  as  to  say 
"  I  thought  so !  "  and,  the  ring  being  repeated,  went  to  the 
door,  whence  he  presently  returned,  ushering  in,  by  the  name 
of  Mr.  Eonney,  a  pale  gentleman  in  a  violent  hurry,  who, 
with  his  hair  standing  up  in  great  disorder  all  over  his  head, 
and  a  very  narrow  white  cravat  tied  loosely  round  his  throat, 
looked  as  if  he  had  been  knocked  up  in  the  night  and  had 
not  dressed  himself  since. 

"  My  dear  Nickleby,"  said  the  gentleman,  taking  off  a 
white  hat  which  was  so  full  of  papers  that  it  would  scarcely 
stick  upon  his  head,  "  there's  not  a  moment  to  lose  ;  I  have 
a  cab  at  the  door.  Sir  Matthew  Pupker  takes  the  chair,  and 
three  members  of  Parliament  are  positively  coming.  I  have 
seen  two  of  them  safely  out  of  bed.  The  third,  who  was  at 
Crockford's  all  night,  has  just  gone  home  to  put  a  clean  shirt 
on,  and  take  a  bottle  or  two  of  soda  water,  and  will  certainly 
be  with  us,  in  time  to  address  the  meeting.  He  is  a  little 
excited  by  last  night,  but  never  mind  that ;  he  always  speaks 
the  stronger  for  it." 

"It  seems  to  promise  pretty  well,"  said  Mr.  Ralph  Nick- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


17 


leby,  whose  deliberate  manner  was  strongly  opposed  to  the 
vivacity  of  the  other  man  of  business. 

"  Pretty  well !  "  echoed  Mr.  Bonney.  "  It's  the  finest  idea 
that  was  ever  started.  '  United  Metropolitan  Improved  Hot 
Muffin  and  Crumpet  Baking  and  Punctual  Delivery  Company. 
Capital,  five  millions  in  five  hundred  thousand  shares  of  ten 
pounds  each.'  Why  the  very  name  will  get  the  shares  up  to  a 
premium  in  ten  days." 

"  And  when  they  are  at  a  premium,"  said  Mr.  Ralph 
Nickleby,  smiling. 

"  When  they  are,  you  knew  what  to  do  with  them  as  well 
as  any  man  alive,  and  how  to  back  quietly  out  at  the  right 
time,"  said  Mr.  Bonney,  slapping  the  capitalist  familiarly  on 
the  shoulder.  "  By  the  bye,  what  a  very  remarkable  man 
that  clerk  of  yours  is." 

"  Yes,  poor  devil !  "  replied  Ralph,  drawing  on  his  gloves. 
"Though  Newman  Noggs  kept  his  horses  and  hounds  once." 

"  Ay,  ay  ?  "  said  the  other  carelessly. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Ralph,  '*  and  not  many  years  ago 
either  ;  but  he  squandered  his  money,  invested  it  anyhow, 
borrowed  at  interest,  and  in  short  made  first  a  thorough  fool 
of  himself,  and  then  a  beggar.  He  took  to  drinking,  and  had 
a  touch  of  pnralysis,  and  then  came  here  to  borrow  a  pound, 
as  in  his  better  days  I  had — " 

•'  Done  business  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Bonney  with  a  mean- 
ing look. 

"  Just  so,"  replied  Ralph  ;  "  I  couldn't  lend  it,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  of  course  not." 

"  But  as  I  wanted  a  clerk  just  then,  to  open  the  door  and 
so  forth,  I  took  him  out  of  charity,  and  he  has  remained 
with  me  ever  since.  He  is  a  little  mad,  I  think,'-'  said  Mr. 
Nickleby,  calling  up  a  charitable  look,  "  but  he  is  useful 
enough,  poor  creature — useful  enough." 

The  kind-hearted  gentleman  omitted  to  add  that  Newman 
Noggs,  being  utterly  destitute,  served  him  for  rather  less  than 
the  usual  wages  of  a  boy  of  thirteen  ;  and  likewise  failed 
to  mention  in  his  hasty  chronicle,  that  his  eccentric  tacitur- 
nity rendered  him  an  especially  valuable  person  in  a  place 
where  much  business  was  done,  of  which  it  was  desirable  no 
mention  should  be  made  out  of  doors.  The  other  gentleman 
was  plainly  impatient  to  be  gone,  however,  and  as  they  hur- 
ried into  the  hackney  cabriolet  immediately  afterwards,  per- 
haps Mr.  Nickleby  forgot  to  mention  circumstances  so  unim- 
portant. 2 


1 8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

There  was  a  great  bustle  in  Bishopsgate  Street  Within,  as 
they  drew  up,  and  (it  being  a  windy  day)  half  a  dozen  men 
were  tacking  across  the  road  under  a  press  of  paper,  bearing 
gigantic  announcements  that  a  Public  Meeting  would  be 
holden  at  one  o'clock  precisely,  to  take  into  consideration 
the  propriety  of  petitioning  Parliament  in  favor  of  the 
United  Metropolitan  Improved  Hot  Muffin  and  Crumpet 
Baking  and  Punctual  Deliveiy  Company,  capital  five  mil- 
lions, in  five  hundred  thousand  shares  of  ten  pounds  each ; 
which  sums  were  duly  set  forth  in  fat  black  figures  of 
considerable  size.  Mr.  Bonney  elbowed  his  way  briskly  vip 
stairs,  receiving  in  his  progress  many  low  bows  from  the 
waiters  who  stood  on  the  landings  to  show  the  way,  and, 
followed  by  Mr.  Nickleby,  dived  into  a  suite  of  apartments 
behind  the  great  public-room  :  in  the  second  of  which  was  a 
business-looking  table,  and  several  business-looking  people. 

"  Hear  !  "  cried  a  gentleman  with  a  double  chin,  as  Mr. 
Bonney  presented  himself.     "  Chair,  gentlemen,  chair  !  " 

The  new  comers  were  received  with  universal  approbation, 
and  Mr.  Bonney  bustled  up  to  the  top  of  the  table,  took  off 
his  hat,  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  and  knocked  a  hack- 
ney-coachman's knock  on  the  table  with  a  little  hammer  ; 
whereat  several  gentlemen  cried  "  Hear !  "  and  nodded 
slightly  to  each  other,  as  much  as  to  say  what  spirited  con- 
duct that  was.  Just  at  this  moment,  a  waiter,  feverish  with 
agitation,  tore  into  the  room,  and  throwing  the  door  open 
with  a  crash,  shouted  "  Sir  Matthew  Pupker  !  " 

The  committee  stood  up  and  clapped  their  hands  for  joy  ; 
and  while  they  were  clapping  them,  in  came  Sir  Matthew  Pup- 
ker, attended  by  two  live  members  of  Parliament,  one  Irish  and 
one  Scotch, all  smiling  and  bowing,and  looking  so  pleasant  that 
it  seemed  a  perfect  marvel  how  any  man  could  have  the 
heart  to  vi|te  against  them.  Sir  Matthew  Pupker  especially, 
who  had  a  little  round  head  with  a  fiaxen  wig  on  the  top  of  it, 
fell  into  such  a  paroxysm  of  bows,  that  the  wig  threatened  to 
be  jerked  off,  every  instant.  When  these  symptoms  had  in 
some  degree  subsided,  the  gentlemen  who  were  on  speaking 
terms  with  Sir  Matthew  Pupker,  or  the  two  other  members, 
crowded  round  them  in  three  little  groups,  near  one  or  other 
of  which  the  gentlemen  who  were  not  on  speaking  terms  with 
Sir  Matthew  Pupker  or  the  two  other  members,  stood  linger- 
ing, and  smiling,  and  rubbing  their  hands,  in  the  desperate 
hope  of  something  turning  up  which   might  bring  them    into 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  \  9 

notice.  All  this  time,  Sir  Matthew  Pupker  and  the  two  other 
members  were  relating  to  their  separate  circles  what  the  in- 
tentions of  government  were,  about  taking  up  the  bill ;  with  a 
full  account  of  what  the  government  had  said  in  a  whisper  the 
last  time  they  dined  with  it,  aud  how  the  government  had 
been  obser\-ed  to  wink  when  it  said  so  ;  from  which  premises 
they  were  at  no  loss  to  draw  the  conclusion,  that  if  the  govern- 
ment had  one  object  more  at  heart  than  another,  that  one 
object  was  the  welfare  and  advantage  of  the  United  Metro- 
politan Improved  Hot  Muffin  and  Crumpet  Baking  and  Punc- 
tual Delivery  Company. 

Meanwhile,  and  pending  the  arrangements  of  the  proceed- 
ings, and  a  fair  division  of  the  speechifying,  the  public  in  the 
large  room  were  eyeing,  by  turns,  the  empty  platform,  and 
the"  ladies  in  the  Music  Gallery.  In  these  amusements  the 
greater  portion  of  them  had  been  occupied  for  a  couple  of 
hours  before,  and  as  the  most  agreeable  diversions  pall  upon 
the  taste  on  a  too  protracted  enjoyment  of  them,  the  sterner 
spirits  now  began  to  hammer  the  floor  with  their  boot-heels, 
and  to  express  their  dissatisfaction  by  various  hoots  and  cries. 
These  vocal  exertions,  emanating  from  the  people  who  had 
been  there  longest,  naturally  proceeded  from  those  who  were 
nearest  to  the  platform  and  furthest  from  the  policemen  in 
attendance,  who  having  no  great  mind  to  fight  their  way 
through  the  crowd,  bu^  entertaining  nevertheless  a  praise- 
worthy desire  to  do  something  to  quell  the  disturbance,  im- 
mediately began  to  drag  forth,  by  the  coat  tails  and  collars, 
all  the  quiet  people  near  the  door  ;  at  the  same  time  dealing 
out  various  smart  and  tingling  blows  with  their  truncheons, 
after  the  manner  of  that  ingenious  actor,  Mr.  Punch:  whose 
brilliant  example,  both  in  the  fashion  of  his  weapons  and 
their  use,  this  branch  of  the  executive  occasionally  follows. 

Several  very  exciting  skirmishes  were  in  progii^,  when  a 
loud  shout  attracted  the  attention  even  of  the  bdWigerents, 
and  then  there  poured  o\\  to  the  platform,  from  a  door  at  the 
side,  a  long  line  of  gentlemen  with  their  hats  off,  all  looking 
behind  them,  and  uttering  vociferous  cheers  ;  the  cause 
whereof  was  sufficiently  explained  when  Sir  Matthew  Pupker 
and  the  two  other  real  members  of  Parliament  came  to  the 
front,  amidst  deafening  shouts,  and  testified  to  each  other  in 
dumb  motions  that  they  had  never  seen  such  a  glorious  sight 
as  that,  in  the  whole  course  of  their  public  career. 

At  length,  and  at  last,  the  assembly  left  off  shouting,  but 


20  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

Sir  Matthew  Pupker  being  into  the  chair,  they  underwent  a 
relapse  which  lasted  five  minutes.  This  over,  Sir  Matthew 
Pupker  went  on  to  say  what  must  be  his  feelings  on  that  great 
occasion,  and  what  must  be  that  occasion  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  and  what  must  be  the  intelligence  of  his  fellow-country- 
men before  him,  and  what  must  be  the  wealth  and  respecta- 
bility of  his  honorable  friends  behind  him,  and  lastly,  what 
must  be  the  importance  to  the  wealth,  the  happiness,  the  com- 
fort, the  liberty,  the  very  existence  of  a  free  and  great  people,  of 
such  an  Institution  as  the  United  Metropolitan  Improved  Hot 
Mufhn  and  Crumpet  Baking  and  Punctual  Delivery  Company  ! 
Mr.  Bonney  then  presented  himself  to  move  the  first  reso- 
lution ;  and  having  run  his  right  hand  through  his  hair,  and 
planted  his  left,  in  an  easy  manner,  in  his  ribs,  he  consigned 
his  hat  to  the  care  of  the  gentleman  with  the  double  chin 
(who  acted  as  a  species  of  bottle-holder  to  the  orators  gener- 
ally), and  said  he  would  read  to  them  the  first  resolution — 
"  That  this  meeting  views  with  alarm  and  apprehension,  the 
existing  state  of  the  Muffin  Trade  in  this  Metropolis  and  its 
neighborhood  ;  that  it  considers  the  Muffin  Boys,  as  at  pres- 
ent constituted,  wholly  undeser\-ing  the  confidence  of  the 
public  ;  and  that  it  deems  the  whole  Muffin  system  alike  preju- 
dicial to  the  health  and  morals  of  the  people,  and  subversive 
of  the  best  interests  of  a  great  commercial  and  mercantile 
community."  The  honorable  gentleman  made  a  speech  which 
drew  tears  from  the  ej-es  of  the  ladies,  and  awakened  the 
liveliest  emotions  in  every  individual  present.  He  had  visited 
the  houses  of  the  poor  in  the  various  districts  of  London,  and 
had  found  them  destitute  of  the  slightest  vestige  of  a  muffin, 
which  there  appeared  too  much  reason  to  believe  some  of 
these  indigent  persons  did  not  taste  from  year's  end  to  year's 
end.  He  had  found  that  among  muffin-sellers  there  existed 
drunkenness,  debauchery,  and  profligacy,  which  he  attributed 
to  the  debasing  nature  of  their  employment  as  at  present  ex- 
ercised ;  he  had  found  the  same  vices  among  the  poorer  class 
of  people  who  ought  to  be  muffin  consumers  ;  and  this  he  at- 
tributed to  the  despair  engendered  by  their  being  placed  be- 
yond the  reach  of  that  nutritious  article,  which  drove  them  to 
seek  a  false  stimulant  in  intoxicating  liquors.  He  would 
undertake  to  prove  before  a  committee  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, that  there  existed  a  combination  to  keep  up  the  price 
of  muffins,  and  to  give  the  bellmen  a  monopoly  ;  he  would 
prove   it  by  bellmen  at  the  bar  of  that  house  ;  and  he   would 


NICHOLAS  NICK'LEB  Y.  2 1 

also  prove,  that  these  men  corresponded  with  each  other  by 
secret  words  and  signs,  as  "Snooks,"  "Walker,"  "Ferguson," 
"  Is  Murpliy  right  ?  "  and  many  others.  It  was  this  melancholy 
state  of  things  that  the  Company  proposed  to  correct  ;  firstly, 
by  prohibiting,  under  heavy  penalties,  all  private  muffin  trad- 
ing of  every  description  ;  secondly,  by  themselves  supplying 
the  public  generally,  and  the  poor  at  their  own  homes,  with 
muffins  of  first  quality  at  reduced  prices.  It  was  with  this 
object  that  a  bill  had  been  introduced  into  Parliament  by  their 
patriotic  chairman  Sir  Matthew  Pupker  ;  it  w^as  this  bill  that 
they  had  met  to  support ;  it  was  the  supporters  of  this  bill 
who  would  confer  undying  brightness  and  splendor  upon  Eng- 
land, under  the  name  of  the  United  Metropolitan  Improved 
Hot  Muffin  and  Crumpet  Baking  and  Punctual  Delivery  Com- 
pany ;  he  would  add,  with  a  capital  of  Five  Millions,  in  five 
hundred  thousand  shares  of  ten  pounds  each. 

Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  seconded  the  resolution,  and  another 
gentleman  having  moved  that  it  be  amended  by  the  insertion 
of  the  words  "and  crumpet  "  after  the  word  "  muffin,"  when- 
ever it  occurred,  it  was  carried  triumphantly.  Only  one  man 
in  the  crowd  cried  "  No  !  "  and  he  was  promptly  taken  into 
custody,  and  straightway  borne  off. 

The  second  resolution,  which  recognized  the  expediency 
of  immediately  abolishing  "all  muffin  (or  crumpet)  sellers,  all 
traders  in  muffins  (or  crumpets)  of  whatsoe\er  description, 
whether  male  or  female,  boys  or  men,  ringing  hand-bells  or 
otherwise,"  was  moved  by  a  grievous  gentleman  of  semi-cleri- 
cal appearance,  who  went  at  once  into  such  deep  pathetics, 
that  he  knocked  the  first  speaker  clean  out  of  the  course  in  no 
time.  You  might  have  heard  a  pin  fall — a  pin  !  a  feather — as 
he  described  the  cruelties  inflicted  on  muffin  boys  by  their 
masters,  which  he  ver}^  wisely  urged  were  in  themselves  a 
sufficient  reason  for  the  establishment  of  that  inestimable 
company.  It  seemed  that  the  unhappy  youths  were  nightly 
turned  out  into  the  wet  streets  at  the  most  inclement  periods 
of  the  year,  to  wander  about,  in  darkness  and  rain — or  it 
might  be  hail  or  snow — for  hours  together,  without  shelter, 
food,  or  warmth  ;  and  let  the  public  never  forget  upon  the 
latter  point,  that  while  the  muffins  were  provided  with  warm 
clothing  and  blankets,  the  boys  were  wholly  unprovided  for, 
and  left  to  their  own  miserable  resources.  (Shame  !)  The 
honorable  gentleman  related  one  case  of  a  muffin  boy,  who 
having  been  exposed  to  this  inhuman  and  barbarous  system 


2  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

for  no  less  than  five  years,  at  length  fell  a  victim  to  a  cold  in 
the  head,  beneath  which  he  gradually  sunk  until  he  fell  into  a 
perspiration  and  recovered  ;  this  he  could  vouch  for,  on  his 
own  authoritv,  but  he  had  heard  (and  he  had  no  reason  to 
doubt  the  fact)  of  a  still  more  heart-rending  and  appalling 
circumstance.  He  had  heard  of  the  case  of  an  orphan  muffin 
boy,  who,  having  been  run  over  by  a  hackney  carriage,  had 
been  removed  to  the  hospital,  had  undergone  the  amputation 
of  his  leg  below  the  knee,  and  was  now  actually  pursuing  his 
occupation  on  crutches.  Fountain  of  justice,  were  these 
things  to  last ! 

This  was  the  department  of  the  subject  that  took  the  meet- 
ing, and  this  was  the  style  of  speaking  to  enlist  their  sym- 
pathies. The  men  shouted  ;  the  ladies  wept  into  their  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  till  they  were  moist,  and  waved  them  till  they 
were  dr}'  ;  the  excitement  was  tremendous  ;  and  Mr.  Nickleby 
whispered  his  friend  that  the  shares  were  thenceforth  at  a 
premium  of  five-and-twenty  per  cent. 

The  resolution  was,  of  course,  carried  with  loud  acclama- 
tions, every  man  holding  up  both  hands  in  favor  of  it,  as  he 
would  in  his  enthusiasm  have  held  up  both  legs  also,  if  he 
could  have  conveniently  accomplished  it.  This  done,  the 
draft  of  the  proposed  petition  was  read  at  length  ;  and  the 
petition  said,  as  all  petitions  do  say,  that  the  petitioners  were 
very  humble,  and  the  petitioned  very  honorable,  and  the  ob- 
ject very  virtuous  ;  therefore  (said  the  petition)  the  bill  ought 
to  be  passed  into  a  law  at  once,  to  the  everlasting  honor  and 
glory  of  that  most  honorable  and  glorious  Commons  of  Eng- 
land in  Parliament  assembled. 

Then,  the  gentleman  who  had  been  at  Crockford's  all  night, 
and  who  looked  something  the  worse  about  the  eyes  in  conse- 
quence, came  forward  to  tell  his  fellow-countrymen  what  a 
speech  he  meant  to  make  in  favor  of  that  petition  whenever 
it  should  be  presented,  and  how  desperately  he  meant  to 
taunt  the  Parliament  if  they  rejected  the  bill ;  and  to  inform 
them  also,  that  he  regretted'  his  honorable  friends  had  not  in- 
serted a  clause  rendering  the  purchase  of  muftins  and  crum- 
pets compulsory  upon  all  classes  of  the  community,  which  he 
— opposing  all'  half  measures,  and  preferring  to  go  the  ex- 
treme animal — pledged  himself  to  propose  and  divide  upon, 
in  committee.  After  announcing  this  determination,  the 
honorable  gentleman  grew  jocular  ;  and  as  patent  boots,  lemon- 
colored  kid  gloves,  and  a  fur  coat  collar,  assist  jokes  materially, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  23 

there  was  immense  laughter  and  much  cheerhig,  and  more- 
over such  a  briUiant  display  of  ladies'  pocket-handkerchiefs, 
as  threw  the  grievous  gentleman  quite  into  the  shade. 

And  when  the  petition  had  been  read  and  was  about  to  be 
adopted,  there  came  forward  the  Irish  member  (who  was  a 
young  gentleman  of  ardent  temperament,)  with  such  a  speech 
as  only  an  Irish  member  can  make,  breathing  the  true 
soul  and  spirit  of  poetry,  and  poured  forth  with  such  fervor, 
that  it  made  one  warm  to  look  at  him  ;  in  the  course  whereof, 
he  told  them  how  he  would  demand  the  extension  of  that 
great  boon  to  his  native  country  ;  how  he  would  claim  for  her 
equal  rights  in  the  muffin  laws  as  in  all  other  laws  ;  and  how 
he  yet  hoped  to  see  the  day  when  crumpets  should  be  toasted 
in  her  lowly  cabins,  and  muffin  bells  should  ring  in  her  rich 
green  valleys.  And,  after  him,  came  the  Scotch  member, 
with  various  pleasant  allusions  to  the  probable  amount  of 
profits,  which  increased  the  good  humor  that  the  poetiy  had 
ajvakened  ;  and  all  the  speeches  put  together  did  exactly  what 
they  were  intended  to  do,  and  established  in  the  hearers' 
minds  that  there  was  no  speculation  so  promising,  or  at  the 
same  time  so  praiseworthy,  as  the  United  Metropolitan  Im- 
proved Hot  Muffin  and  Crumpet  Baking  and  Punctual  Deliv- 
ery Company. 

So,  the  petition  in  favor  of  the  bill  was  agreed  upon,  and 
the  meeting  adjourned  with  acclamations,  and  Mr.  Nickleby 
and  the  other  directors  went  to  the  office  to  lunch,  as  they  did 
every  day  at  half-past  one  o'clock  ;  and  to  remunerate  them- 
selves for  which  trouble  (as  the  company  was  yet  in  its  in- 
fancy), they  only  charged  three  guineas  each  man  for  every 
such  attendance. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MR.  RALPH  NICKLEBY  RECEIVES  SAD  TIDINGS  OF  HIS  BROTHER, 
BUT  BEARS  UP  NOBLY  AGAINST  THE  INTELLIGENCE  COM- 
MUNICATED TO  HIM.  THE  READER  IS  INFORMED  HOW  HE 
LIKED  NICHOLAS,  WHO  IS  HEREIN  INTRODUCED,  AND  HOW 
KINDLY    HE    PROPOSED    TO    MAKE    HIS    FORTUNE    AT    ONCE. 

Having  rendered  his  zealous  assistance  towards  despatch- 
ing the  lunch,  with  all  that  promptitude  and  energy  which  are 


24 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


among  the  most  important  qualities  that  men  of  business  can 
possess,  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  took,  a  cordial  farewell  of  his 
fellow  speculators,  and  bent  his  steps  westward  in  unwonted 
good  humor.  As  he  passed  Saint  Paul's  he  stepped  aside 
into  a  doorway  to  set  his  watch,  and  with  his  hand  on  tlie 
key  and  his  eye  on  the  cathedral  dial,  was  intent  upon  so  doing, 
when  a  man  suddenly  stopped  before  him.  It  was  Newman 
Noggs. 

"  h\\  !  Newman,"  said  Mr.  Nickleby,  looking  up  as  he 
pursued  his  occupation.  "  The  letter  about  the  mortgage  has 
come,  has  it .''     I  thought  it  would." 

"  Wrong,"  replied  Newman. 

"  What  1  and  nobody  called  respecting  it  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Nickleby,  pausing.      Noggs  shook  his  head. 

"  What  has  come,  then  1  "  inquired  Mr.  Nickleby. 

"  I  have,"  said  Newman. 

"  What  else  ?  "  demanded  the  master,  sternly. 

"This,"  said  Newman,  drawing  a  sealed  letter  slowly  from 
his  pocket.  "  Postmark,  Strand,  black  wax,  black  border, 
woman's  hand,  C.  N.  in  the  corner." 

"Black  wax  .^"  said  Mr.  Nickleby,  glancing  at  the  letter. 
"  I  know  something  of  that  hand,  too.  Newman,  I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  my  brother  were  dead." 

"I  don't  think  you  would,"  said  Newman  quietly. 

"  Why  not,  sir  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Nickleby. 

"  You  never  are  surprised,"  replied  Newman,  "  that's  all." 

Mr.  Nickleby  snatched  the  letter  from  his  assistant,  and 
fixing  a  cold  look  upon  him,  opened,  read  it,  put  it  in  his 
pocket,  and  having  now  hit  the  time  to  a  second,  began  wind- 
ing-up  his  watch. 

"It  is  as  I  expected,  Newman,"  said  Mr.  Nickleby,  while 
he  was  thus  engaged.  "  He  ts  dead.  Dear  me  !  Well,  that's 
a  sudden  thing.  I  shouldn't  have  thought  it,  really."  With 
these  touching  expressions  of  sorrow,  Mr.  Nickleby  replaced 
his  watch  in  his  fob,  and,  fitting  on  his  glove  to  a  nicety, 
turned  upon  his  way,  and  walked  slowly  westward  with  his 
hands  behind  him, 

"  Children  alive  ?  "  inquired  Noggs,  stepping  up  to  him. 

"Why,  that's   the  very   thing,"   replied   Mr.   Nickleby   as 
though  his  thoughts  were  about  them  at  that  moment.     "  They 
are  both  alive." 
'^        "  Both  !  "  repeated  Newman  Noggs,  in  a  low  voice. 

"And  the  widow,  too,"  added  Mr.  Nickleby,  "and  all 
three  in  London,  confound  them  ;  all  three  here,  Newman," 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  25 

Newman  fell  a  little  behind  his  master,  and  his  face  waa 
curiously  twisted  as  by  a  spasm  ;  but  whether  of  paralysis,  or 
grief,  or  inward  laughter,  nobody  but  himself  could  possibly  ex- 
plain. The  expression  of  a  man's  face  is  commonly  a  help  to  his 
thoughts,  or  glossary  on  his  speech ;  but  the  countenance  of 
Newman  Noggs,  in  his  ordinary  moods,  was  a  problem  which 
no  stretch  of  ingenuity  could  solve, 

"  Go  home  !  "  said  Mr.  Nickleby,  after  they  had  walked  a 
few  paces,  looking  round  at  the  clerk  as  if  he  were  his  dog. 
The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  when  Newman  darted  across 
the  road,  slunk  among  the  crowd  and  disappeared  in  an  in- 
stant. 

"  Reasonable,  certainly  !  "  muttered  Mr.  Nickleby  to  him- 
self, as  he  walked  on,  "  very  reasonable  !  My  brother  never 
did  anything  for  me,  and  I  never  expected  it  ;  the  breath  is  no 
sooner  out  of  his  body  than  I  am  to  be  looked  to,  as  the  sup- 
port .of^a_  great  hearty  woman,  and  a  grown  boy  and  girl. 
What  are  they  to  me  !     /never  saw  them." 

Full  of  these  and  many  other  refiections  of  a  similar 
kind,  Mr.  Nickleby  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  the  Strand, 
and,  referring  to  his  letter  as  if  to  ascertain  the  number  of  the 
house  he  wanted,  stopped  at  a  private  door  about  half-way 
down  that  crowded  thoroughfare. 

A  miniature  painter  lived  there,  for  there  was  a  large  gilt 
frame  screwed  upon  the  street-door,  in  which  were  displayed, 
upon  a  black  velvet  ground,  two  portraits  of  naval  dress  coats 
with  faces  looking  out  of  them,  and  telescopes  attached ; 
one  of  a  young  gentleman  in  a  very  vermilion  uniform,  flourish- 
ing a  sabre  ;  and  one  of  a  literary  character  with  a  high  fore- 
head, a  pen  and  ink,  six  books,  and^  a  curtain.  There  was, 
moreover,  a  touching  representation  of  a  young  lady  reading 
a  manuscript  in  an  unfathomable  forest,  and  a  charming  whole 
lenath  of  a  larsre-headed  little  bov,  sitting  on  a  stool  with  his 
legs  fore-shortened  to  the  size  of  salt-spoons.  Besides  these 
works  of  art,  there  were  a  great  many  heads  of  old  ladies  and 
gentlemen  smirking  at  each  other  out  of  blue  and  brown  skies, 
and  an  elegantly-written  card  of  terms  with  an  embossed 
border. 

Mr.  Nickleby  glanced  at  these  frivolities  with  great  con- 
tempt, and  gave  a  double  knock,  which,  having  been  thrice 
repeated,  was  answered  by  a  servant  girl  with  an  uncommonly 
dirty  face. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Nickleby  at  home,  girl  ? "  demanded  Ralph 
sharply. 


2  6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"Her  name  ain't  Nickleby,"  said  the  girl,  "  La  Creevy, 
you  mean." 

Mr.  Nickleby  looked  very  indignant  at  the  handmaid  on 
being  thus  corrected,  and  demanded  with  much  asperity  what 
she  meant ;  which  she  was  about  to  state,  when  a  female  voice, 
proceeding  from  a  perpendicular  staircase  at  the  end  of  the 
passage,  inquired  who  was  wanted. 

"  Mrs.  Nickleby,"  said  Ralph. 

"  It's  the  second  floor,  Hannah,"  said  the  same  voice  ; 
"  what  a  stupid  thing  you  are  !     Is  the  second  floor  at  home  ?  " 

"  Somebody  went  out  just  now,  but  I  think  it  was  the  attic 
which  had  been  a  cleaning  of  himself,"  replied  the  girl. 

"  You  had  better  see,"  said  the  invisible  female.  "Show 
the  gentleman  where  the  bell  is,  and  tell  him  he  musn't  knock 
double  knocks  for  the  second  floor ;  I  can't  allow  a  knock  ex- 
cept when  the  bell's  broke,  and  then  it  must  be  two  single  ones." 

"  Here,"  said  Ralph,  walking  in  without  more  parley,  "  I 
beg  your  pardon  ;  is  that  Mrs.  La  What's-her-name  ?  " 

"  Creevy — La  Creevy,"  replied  the  voice,  as  a  yellow  head- 
dress bobbed  over  the  banisters. 

"  I'll  speak  to  you  a  moment,  ma'am,  with  your  leave," 
said  Ralph. 

The  \oice  replied  that  the  gentleman  was  to  walk  up ;  but 
he  had  walked  up  before  it  spoke,  and  stepping  into  the  first 
floor,  was  received  JDy  the  wearer  of  the  yellow-head  dress, 
who  had  a  gown  to  correspond,  and  was  of  much  the  same 
color  herself.  Miss  La  Creevy  was  a  mincing  young  lady  of 
fifty,  and  Miss  La  Creevy's  apartment  was  the  gilt  frame  down 
stairs  on  a  larger  scale  and  something  dirtier. 

"  Hem  !  "  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  coughing  delicately  behind 
her  black  silk  mitten.  "  A  miniature,  I  presume.  A  very 
strongly-marked  countenance  for  the  purpose,  sir.  Have  you 
ever  sat  before  ?  " 

"  You  mistake  my  purpose,  I  see,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr. 
Nickleby,  in  his  usual  blunt  fashion.  "  I  have  no  money  to 
throw  away  on  miniatures,  ma'am,  and  nobody  to  give  one  to 
(thank  God)  if  I  had.  Seeing  you  on  the  stairs,  I  wanted  to 
ask  a  question  of  you,  about  some  lodgers  here." 

Miss  La  Creevy  coughed  once  more — this  cough  was  to 
conceal  her  disa])pointment— and  said,  "  Oh,  indeed  !  " 

"  I  infer  from  what  you  said  to  your  servant,  that  the  floor 
above  belongs  to  you,  ma'am  ?  "  said  Mr.  Nickleby. 

Yes  it  did,  Miss   La  Creevy  replied.     The  upper  part  of 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY  27 

the  house  belonged  to  her,  and  as  she  had  no  necessity  for 
the  second-floor  rooms  just  then,  she  was  in  the  habit  of  let- 
ting them.  Indeed,  there  was  a  lady  from  the  countr}'  and 
her  two  children  in  them,  at  that  present  speaking. 

"  A  widow,  ma'am  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  Yes,  she  is  a  widow,"  replied  the  lady. 

^^  Kpoor  widow,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph,  with  a  powerful  em- 
phasis on  that  little  adjective  which  conveys  so  much. 

"  Well,  I  am  afraid  she  is  poor,"  rejoined  Miss  La  Creevy. 

"  I  happen  to  know  that  she  is,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph. 
"  Now,  what  business  has  a  poor  widow  in  such  a  house  as 
tliis,  ma'am  .?  " 

"  Very  true,"  replied  Miss  La  Creevy,  not  at  all  displeased 
with  this  implied  compliment  to  the  apartments.  "  Exceed- 
ingly true." 

"  I  know  her  circumstances  intimately,  ma'am,"  said 
Ralph  ;  "  in  fact,  I  am  a  relation  of  the  family  ;  and  I  should 
recommend  you  not  to  keep  them  here,  ma'am." 

"  I  should  hope,  if  there  was  any  incompatibility  to  meet 
the  pecuniary  obligations,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy  with  another 
cough,  "  that  the  lady's  family  would " 

"  No  they  wouldn't,  ma'am,"  interrupted  Ralph,  hastily. 
"  Don't  think  it." 

"If  I  am  to  understand  that,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  "the 
case  wears  a  very  different  appearance." 

"  You  may  understand  it  then,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph,  "  and 
make  your  arrangements  accordingly.  I  am  the  family,  ma'am 
— at  least,  I  believe  I  am  the  only  relation  they  have,  and  I  think 
it  right  that  you  should  know  /  can't  support  them  in  their  ex- 
travagances.    How  long  have  they  taken  these  lodgings  for .''  " 

"Only  from  week  to  week,"  replied  Miss  La  Creevy. 
"  Mrs.  Nickleby  paid  the  first  week  in  advance." 

"  Then  you  had  better  get  them  out  at  the  end  of  it,"  said 
Ralph.  "  They  can't  do  better  than  go  back  to  the  country, 
ma'am  ;  they  are  in  everybody's  way  here." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  rubbing  her  hands,  "  if 
Mrs.  Nickleby  took  the  apartments  without  the  means  of  pay- 
ing for  them,  it  was  very  unbecoming  a  lady." 

"  Of  course  it  was,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph. 

"And  naturally,"  continued  Miss  La  Creevy,  "  I  who  am, 
at  present — hem — an  unprotected  female,  cannot  afford  to  lose 
by  the  apartments." 

"Of  course  you  can't,  ma'am,"  replied  Ralph. 


28  NICHOLAS  KICKLEBY. 

"Though  at  the  same  time,"  added  Miss  La  Creevy,  who 
was  plainly  wavering  between  her  good-nature  and  her  inter- 
est, "  I  have  nothing  whatever  to  say  against  the  lady,  who  is 
extremely  pleasant  and  affable,  though,  poor  thing,  she  seems 
terribly  low  in  her  spirits  ;  nor  against  the  young  people 
either,  for  nicer,  or  better-behaved  young  people  cannot  be." 

"Very  well,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph,  turning  to  the  door,  for 
these  encomiums  on  poverty  irritated  him  ;  "  I  have  done  my 
dutv,  and  perhaps  more  than  I  ought:  of  course  nobody  will 
thank  me  for  saying  what  I  have." 

"  I  am  sure  /  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  at  least,  sir," 
said  Miss  La  Creevy  in  a  gracious  manner.  "  Would  you  do  me 
the  favor  to  look  at  a  few  specimens  of  my  portrait  painting?  " 

"  You're  very  good,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Nickleby,  making 
ofif  with  great  speed  ;  "but  as  I  have  a  visit  to  pay  up  stairs, 
and  my  time  is  precious,  I  really  can't." 

"  At  any  other  time  when  you  are  passing,  I  shall  be  most 
happy,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  Perhaps  you  will  have  the 
kindness  to  take  a  card  of  terms  with  you  ?  Thank  you — 
good-morning !  " 

"Good-morning,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph,  shutting  the  door 
abruptly  after  him  'to  prevent  any  further  conversation.  "  Now 
for  my  sister-in-law.     Bah  !  " 

Climbing  up  another  perpendicular  flight,  composed  with 
great  mechanical  ingenuity  of  nothing  but  corner  stairs,  Mr. 
Ralph  Nickleby  stopped  to  take  breath  on  the  landing,  when 
he  was  overtaken  by  the  handmaid,  whom  the  politeness  of 
of  Miss  La  Creevy  had  despatched  to  announce  him,  and  who 
had  apparently  been  making  a  variety  of  unsuccessful  attempts 
since  their  last  interview,  to  wipe  her  dirty  face  clean,  upon  an 
apron  much  dirtier. 

"  What  name  ?  "  said  the  girl. 

"  Nickleby,"  replied  Ralph. 

"  Oh  !  Mrs.  Nickleby,"  said  the  girl,  throwing  open  the 
door,  "here's  Mr.  Nickleby." 

A  lady  in  deep  mourning  rose  as  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby 
entered,  but  appeared  incapable  of  advancing  to  meet  him, 
and  leant  upon  the  arm  of  a  slight  but  very  beautiful  girl  of 
about  seventeen,  who  had  beei^  sitting  by  her.  A  youth,  who 
appeared  a  }ear  or  two  older,  stepped  forward  and  saluted 
Ralph  as  his  uncle. 

"  Oh,"  growled  Ralph,  with  an  ill-favored  frown,  "  you  are 
Nicholas,  I  suppose." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  29 

"That  is  my  name,  sir,"  replied  the  youth. 

"  Put  my  hat  down,"  said  Ralph,  imperiously.  "  Well, 
ma'am,  how  do  you  do  .?  You  must  bear  up  against  sorrow, 
ma'am  :  /always  do." 

"  Mine  was  no  common  loss  !  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  apply- 
ing her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"It  was  no  ?^;/common  loss,  ma'am,"  returned  Ralph,  as 
he  coolly  unbuttoned  his  spencer.  "  Husbands  die  every 
day,  ma'am,  and  wives  too." 

"  And  brothers  also,  sir,"  said  Nicholas,  with  a  glance  of 
indignation. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  puppies,  and  pug-dogs  likewise,"  replied 
his  uncle,  taking  a  chair.  "  You  didn't  mention  in  your  letter 
what  my  brother's  complaint  was,  ma'am." 

"  The  doctors  could  attribute  it  to  no  particular  disease," 
said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  shedding  tears.  "  We  have  too  much 
reason  to  fear  that  he  died  of  a  broken  heart." 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Ralph,  "  there's  no  such  thing.  I  can 
understand  a  man's  dying  of  a  broken  neck,  or  suffering  from 
a  broken  arm,  or  a  broken  head,  or  a  broken  leg,  or  a  broken 
nose  ;  but  a  broken  heart ! — nonsense,  it's  the  cant  of  the  day. 
If  a  man  can't  pay  his  debts,  he  dies  of  a  broken  heart,  and 
his  widow's  a  martyr." 

"  Some  people,  I  believe,  have  no  hearts  to  break,"  ob- 
served Nicholas,  quietly. 

"  How  old  is  this  boy,  for  God's  sake?  "  inquired  Ralph, 
wheeling  back  his  chair,  and  surveying  his  nephew  from  head 
to  foot  with  intensq  .scorn. 

"Nicholas  is  very  nearly  nineteen,"  replied  the  widow. 

"  Nineteen,  eh  !  "  said  Ralph,  "  and  what  do  you  mean  to 
do  for  your  bread,  sir  ?■ " 

"  Not  to  live  upon  my  mother,"  replied  Nicholas,  his  heart 
swelling  as  he  spoke. 

"You'd  have  little  enough  to  live  upon,  if  you  did,"  re- 
torted the  uncle,  eyeing  him  contemptuously. 

"  Whatever  it  be,"  said  Nicholas,  flushed  with  anger,  "  I 
shall  not  look  to  you  to  make  it  more." 

"Nicholas,  my  dear,  recollect  yourself,"  remonstrated  Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

"  Dear  Nicholas,  pray,"  urged  the  young  lady. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  Ralph.  "  Upon  my  word  ! 
Fine  beginnings,  Mrs.  Nickleby — fine  beginnings  !  " 

Mrs.  Nickleby  made  no  other  reply  than  entreating  Nicho- 


3° 


NICFTOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


las  by  a  gesture  to  keep  silent ;  and  the  uncle  and  nephew 
looked  at  each  other  for  some  seconds  without  speaking.  The 
face  of  the  old  man  was  stern,  hard-featured  and  forbidding  ; 
that  of  the  young  one,  open,  handsome,  and  mgenuous.  The 
old  man's  eye  was  keen  with  the  twinklings  of  avarice  and 
cunning  ;  the  young  man's,  bright  with  the  light  of  intelligence 
and  spirit.  His  figure  was  somewhat  slight,  but  manly  and 
well-formed  ;  and,  apart  from  all  the  grace  of  youth  and  come- 
liness, there  was  an  emanation  from  the  warm  young  heart  in 
his  look  and  bearing  which  kept  the  old  man  down. 

However  striking  such  a  contrast  as  this  may  be  to  look- 
ers-on, none  ever  feel  it  with  half  the  keenness  or  acuteness 
of  perfection  with  which  it   strikes  to  the   ver}'   soul  of   him 
:  whose  inferiority  it  marks.  /  It   called  Ralph  to  the   heart's 
i  coreTancT he  hated  Nicholas  fToiri  Lliat  hour. . 

The  mutual  inspection  was  at  length  brought  to  a  close  by 
Ralph  withdrawing  his  eyes,  with  a  great  show  of  disdain, 
and  calling  Nicholas  "  a  boy."  This  word  is  much  used  as  a 
term  of  reproach  by  elderly  gentlemen  towards  their  juniors : 
probably  with  the  view  of  deluding  society  into  the  belief 
that  if  they  could  be  young  again,  they  wouldn't  on  any  ac- 
count. 

"Well,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph,  impatiently,  "the  creditors 
have  administered,  you  tell  me,  and  there's  nothing  left  for 
you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  And  you  spent  what  little  money  you  had,  in  coming  all 
the  way  to  London,  to  see  what  I  could  do  for  you  ?  "  pursued 
Ralph. 

"I  hoped,"  faltered  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  that  you  might  have 
an  opportunity  of  doing  something  for  your  brother's  children. 
It  was  his  dying  wish  that  I  should  appeal  to  you  in  their  be- 
half." 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  is,"  muttered  Ralph,  walking  up  and 

down  the  room,  "  but  whenever  a  man  dies  without  any  prop- 

I  erty  of   his  own,  he  always   seems  to  think  he  has  a  right  t<7 

!  dispose  of  other  people's.     What  is  your   daughter  fit   for, 

ma'am .-'  " 

"  Kate  has  been  well  educated,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Nickleby. 
"  Tell  your  uncle,  my  dear,  how  far  you  went  in  French  and 
extras." 

Tiie  poor  girl  was  about  to  murmur  something,  when  her 
uncle  stopped  her,  very  unceremoniously. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  31 

"We  must  try  and  get  you  apprenticed  at  some  boarding- 
school,"  said  Ralph.  "  You  have  not  been  brought  up  too 
delicately  for  that,  I  hope?" 

"  No,  indeed,  uncle,"  replied  the  weeping  girl.  "  I  will 
try  to  do  anything  that  will  gain  me  a  home  and  bread." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Ralph,  a  little  softened,  either  by  his 
niece's  beauty  or  her  distress  (stretch  a  point,  and  say  the 
latter).  "  You  must  try  it,  and  if  the  life  is  too  hard,  perhaps 
dress-making  or  tambour-work  will  come  lighter.  Have  yoii 
ever  done  anything,  sir?  "  (turning  to  his  nephew.) 

"  No,"  replied  Nicholas,  bluntly. 

"  No,  I  thought  not !  "  said  Ralph.  "  This  is  the  way  my 
brother  brought  up  his  children,  ma'am." 

"  Nicholas  has  not  long  completed  such  education  as  his 
poor  father  could  give  him,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "and 
he  was  thinking  of — " 

"Of  making  something  of  him  some  day,"  said  Ralph. 
"The  old  story;  always  thinking,  and  never  doing.  If  my 
brother  had  been  a  m  aii  "oF""a'c'tT\'  i  t  vai-i  d  prudence,  he  might 
have  left  you  a  rich  womlrT;  ma  am  ;  and  if  he  had  turned  his 
son  into  the  world,  'T-S  my  father  turned  me,  when  I  wasn't  as 
old  as  that  boy  by"Tryear"*aml  a  half,  he  would  have  been  in  a 
situation  to  help  you,  instead  of  being  a  burden  upon  you, 
and  increasing  your  distress.  CMy  brother  was  a  thoughtless, 
inconsiderate  man,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  and  nobody,  I  am  sure, 
can  have  better  reason  to  feel  that,  than  you." 

This  appeal  set  the  widow  upon  thinking  that  perhaps  she 
might  have  made  a  more  successful  venture  with  her  one 
thousand  pounds,  and  then  she  began  to  reflect  what  a  com- 
fortable sum  it  would  have  been  just  then  ;  which  dismal 
thoughts  made  her  tears  flow  faster,  and  in  the  excess  of  these 
griefs  she  (being  a  well-meaning  woman  enough,  but  weak 
withal)  fell  first  to  deploring  her  hard  fate,  and  then  to  remark- 
ing, with  many  sobs,  that  to  be  sure  she  had  been  a  slave  to 
poor  Nicholas,  and  had  often  told  him  she  might  have  mar- 
ried better  (as  indeed  she  had,  very  often),  and  that  she  never 
knew  in  his  lifetime  how  the  money  went,  but  that  if  he  had 
confided  in  her  they  might  all  have  been  better  off  that  day  ; 
with  other  bitter  recollections  common  to  most  married  ladies, 
either  during  their  coverture,  or  afterwards,  or  at  both  periods. 
Mrs.  Nickleby  concluded  by  lamenting  that  the  dear  departed 
had  never  deigned  to  profit  by  her  advice,  save  on  one  occa- 
sion :  which  was   a  strictly  veracious   statement,  inasmuch  as 


32  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

he  had  only  acted  upon  it  once,  and  had  ruined  himself  in 
consequence. 

Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  heard  all  this  with  a  half  smile  ;  and 
when  the  widow  had  finished,  quietly  took  up  the  subject 
where  it  had  been  left  before  the  above  outbreak. 

"  Are  you  willing  to  work,  sir  }  "  he  inquired,  frowning  on 
his  nephew. 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  replied  Nicholas  haughtily. 

"Then,  see  here,  sir,"  said  his  uncle.  "This  caught  my 
eye  this  morning,  and  you  may  thank  your  stars  for  it." 

With  this  exordium,  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  took  a  newspaper 
from  his  pocket,  and  after  unfolding  it,  and  looking  for  a 
short  time  among  the  advertisements,  read  as  follows  : 

" '  Education. — At  Mr.  Wackford  Squeers's  Academy, 
Dotheboys  Hall,  at  the  delightful  village  of  Dotheboys,  near 
Greta  Bridge  in  Yorkshire,  Youth  are  boarded,  clothed, 
booked,  furnished  with  pocket-money,  provided  with  all  ne- 
cessaries, instructed  in  all  languages  living  and  dead,  mathe- 
matics, orthography,  geometry,  astronomy,  trigonometry,  the 
use  of  the  globes,  algebra,  single  stick  (if  required),  writing, 
arithmetic,  fortification,  and  every  other  branch  of  classical 
literature.  Terms,  twenty  guineas  per  annum.  No  extras, 
no  vacations,  and  diet  unparalleled.  Mr.  Squeers  is  in  town, 
and  attends  daily,  from  one  till  four,  at  the  Saracen's  Head, 
Snow  Hill.  N.  B.  An  able  assistant  wanted.  Annual  salary 
;^5.     A  Master  of  Arts  would  be  preferred.' 

"  There  !  "  said  Ralph,  folding  the  paper  again.  "  Let  him 
get  that  situation,  and  his  fortune  is  made." 

"  But  he  is  not  a  Master  of  Arts  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"That,"  replied  Ralph,   "that  I  think,  can  be  got  ovei." 

"  But  the  salary  is  so  small,  and  it  is  such  a  long  way  off,, 
uncle  !  "  faltered  Kate. 

"  Hush,  Kate,  my  dear,"  interposed  Mrs.  Nickleby  ;  "your 
uncle  must  know  best." 

"I  say,"  repeated  Ralph,  tartly,  "let  him  get  that 
situation,  and  his  fortune  is  made.  If  he  don't  like  that,  let 
him  get  one  for  himself.  Witliout  friends,  money,  recom- 
mendation, or  knowledge  of  business  of  any  kind,  let  him  find 
honest  employment  in  London  which  will  keep  him  in  shoe 
leather,  and  I'll  gi\e  him  a  thousand  pounds.  At  least,"  said 
Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby,  checking  himself,   "I  would  if  I  had  it." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  the  young  lady.  "Oh  !  uncle,  must 
we  be  separated  so  soon  !  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  33 

"  Don't  tease  your  uncle  with  questions  when  he  is  think- 
ing only  for  our  good,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Nich- 
olas, my  dear,  1  wish  you  would  say  something." 

"  Yes,  mother,  yes,"  said  Nicholas,  who  had  hitherto 
remained  silent  and  absorbed  in  thought.  "  If  I  am  fortunate 
enough  to  be  appointed  to  this  post,  sir,  for  which  I  am  so 
imperfectly  qualified,  what  will  become  of  those  I  leave  be- 
hind ?  " 

"  Your  mother  and    sister,   sir,"  replied  Ralph,  "  will  be 
provided  for,  in  that  case  (not  otherwise),  by  me,  and  placed 
in  some  sphere  of  life  in  which  they  will  be  able  to  be  indepen-  ■ 
dent.     That  will  be  my  immediate  care  ;  they  will  not  remain 
as  they  are,  one  week  after  your  departure,  I  will  undertake." 

"  Then,"  said  Nicholas,  starting  gayly  up,  and  wringing  his 
uncle's  hand,  "  I  am  ready  to  do  anything  you  wish  me.  Let 
us  try  our  fortune  with  Mr.  Squeers  at  once;  he  can  but 
refuse." 

"  He  won't  do  that,"  said  Ralph.  "  He  will  be  glad  to 
have  you  on  my  recommendation.  Make  yourself  of  use  to 
him,  and  you'll  rise  to  be  a  partner  in  the  establishment  in  no 
time.  Bless  me,  only  think !  if  he  were  to  die,  why  your 
fortune's  made  at  once." 

"  To  be  sure,  I  see  it  all,"  said  poor  Nicholas,  delighted 
with  a  thousand  visionar}'  ideas,  that  his  good  spirits  and  his 
inexperience  were  conjuring  up  before  him.  "  Or  suppose 
some  young  nobleman  who  is  being  educated  at  the  Hall, 
were  to  take  a  fancy  to  me,  and  get  his  father  to  appoint  me 
his  travelling  tutor  when  he  left,  and  when  we  come  back  from 
the  continent,  procured  me  some  handsome  appointment. 
Eh  !  uncle  ?  " 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure  !  "  snarled  Ralph. 

"  And  who  knows,  but  when  he  came  to  see  me  when  I 
was  settled  (as  he  would  of  course),  he  might  fall  in  love  with 
Kate,  who  would  be  keeping  my  house,  and — and — marry  her, 
eh  !  uncle  ?     Who  knows  ?  " 

"Who,  indeed  !  "  snarled  Ralph. 

"  How  happy  we  should  be  ! "  cried  Nicholas  with  en- 
thusiasm. "The  pain  of  parting  is  nothing  to  the  joy  of 
meeting  again.  Kate  will  be  a  beautiful  woman,  and  I  so 
proud   to  hear  them  say  so,  and  mother  so  happy  to  be  with 

us  once  again,  and  all  these  sad  times  forgotten,  and " 

The  picture  was  too  bright  a  one  to  bear,  and  Nicholas,  fairly 
overpowered  by  it,  smiled  faintly,  and  burst  into  tears. 

3 


\ 


34 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y 


This  simple  family,  born  and  bred  in  retirement,  and 
wholly  unacquainted  with  what  is  called  the  world — a  con- 
ventional phrase  which,  being  interpreted,  often  signifieth  all 
the  rascals  in  it — mingled  their  tears  together  at  the  thought 
of  their  first  separation  ;  and,  this  first  gush  of  feeling  over, 
were  proceeding  to  dilate  with  all  the  buoyancy  of  untried 
hope  on  the  bright  prospects  before  them,  when  Mr.  Ralph 
Nickleby  suggested,  that  if  they  lost  time,  some  more  fortunate 
candidate  might  deprive  Nicholas  of  the  stepping-stone  to 
fortune  which  the  advertisement  pointed  out,  and  so  under- 
mine all  their  air-built  castles.  This  timely  reminder  effectually 
stopped  the  conversation.  Nicholas,  having  carefully  copied 
the  address  of  Mr.  Squeers,  the  uncle  and  nephew  issued 
forth  together  in  quest  of  that  accomplished  gentleman  : 
Nicholas  firmly  persuading  himself  that  he  had  done  his 
relative  great  injustice  in  disliking  him  at  first  sight ;  and  Mrs. 
Nickleby  being  at  some  pains  to  inform  her  daughter  that  she 
was  sure  he  was  a  much  more  kindly  disposed  person  than  he 
seemed ;  which,  Miss  Nickleby  dutifully  remarked,  he  might 
very  easily  be. 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  good  lady's  opinion  had  been  not  a 
little  influenced  by  her  brother-in-law's  appeal  to  her  better 
understanding,  and  his  implied  compliment  to  her  high  deserts  ; 
and  although  she  had  dearly  loved  her  husband,  and  still 
doted  on  her  children,  he  had  struck  so  successfully  on  one 
of  those  little  jarring  chords  in  the  human  heart  (Ralph  was 
well  acquainted  with  its  worst  weaknesses,  though  he  knew 
nothing  of  its  best),  that  she  had  already  begun  seriously  to 
consider  herself  the  amiable  and  suffering  victim  of  her  late 
husband's  imprudence. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

NICHOLAS  AND  HIS  UNCLE  (tO  SECURE  THE  FORTUNE  WITHOUT 
LOSS  OF  time)  wait  UPON  MR.  WACKFORD  SQUEERS,  THE 
YORKSHIRE     SCHOOLMASTER. 

Snow  Hill  !  What  kind  of  place  can  the  quiet  town's- 
people  who  see  the  words  emblazoned,  in  all  the  legibility  of 
gilt  letters  and  dark  shading,  on  the  north-country  coaches, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  35 

take  Snow  Hill  to  be  ?  All  people  have  some  undefined  and 
shadowy  notion  of  a  place  whose  name  is  frequently  before 
their  eyes,  or  often  in  their  ears.  What  a  vast  number  of 
random  ideas  there  must  be  perpetually  floating  about,  regard- 
ing this  same  Snow  Hill.  The  name  is  such  a  good  one. 
Snow  Hill — Snow  Hill  too,  coupled  with  a  Saracen's  Head  : 
picturing  to  us  by  a  double  association  of  ideas,  something 
stern  and  rugged  !  A  bleak  desolate  tract  of  country,  open 
to  piercing  blasts  and  fierce  wintry  storms — a  dark,  cold, 
gloomy  heath,  lonely  by  day,  and  scarcely  to  be  thought  of  by 
honest  folks  at  night — a  place  which  solitary  wayfarers  shun, 
and  where  desperate  robbers  congregate  ; — this,  or  something 
like  this,  should  be  the  prevalent  notion  of  Snow  Hill,  in  those 
remote  and  rustic  parts,  through  which  the  Saracen's  Head, 
like  some  grim  apparition,  rushes  each  day  and  ni^h^  with 
mysterious  and  ghost-like  punctuality  ;  holding  its  swift  and 
headlong  course  in  all  weathers,  and  seeming  to  bid  defiance 
to  the  very  elements  themselves. 

The  reality  is  rather  different,  but  by  no  means  to  be  de- 
spised notwithstanding.  There,  at  the  very  core  of  London, 
in  the  heart  of  its  business  and  animation,  in  the  midst  of  a 
whirl  of  noise  and  motion  :  stemming  as  it  were  the  giant 
currents  of  life  that  flow  ceaselessly  on  from  different  quarters, 
and  meet  beneath  its  walls  :  stands  Newgate  ;  and  in  that 
crowded  street  on  which  it  frowns  so  darkly — -within  a  few  feet 
of  the  squalid  tottering  houses — upon  the  very  spot  on  which 
the  venders  of  soup  and  fish  and  damaged  fruit  are  now 
plying  their  trades — scores  of  human  beings,  amidst  a  roar  of 
sounds  to  which  even  tl-^e  tumult  of  a  great  city  is  as  nothing, 
four,  six,  or  eight  strong  men  at  a  time,  have  been  hurried 
violently  and  swiftly  from  the  world,  when  the  scene  has  been 
rendered  frightful  with  excess  of  human  life  \  when  curious 
eyes  have  glared  from  casement,  and  house-top,  and  wall  and 
pillar ;  and  when,  in  the  mass  of  white  and  upturned  faces, 
the  dying  wretch,  in  his  all-comprehensive  look  of  agony,  has 
met  not  one — not  one — that  bore  the  impress  of  pity  or  com- 
passion. 

Near  to  the  jail,  and  by  consequence  near  to  Smithfield 
also,  and  the  Compter,  and  the  bustle  and  noise  of  the  city  ; 
and  just  on  that  particular  part  of  Snow  Hill  where  omnibus 
horses  going  eastward  seriously  think  of  falling  down  on  pur- 
pose, and  where  horses  in  hackney  cabriolets  going  westward 
not  unfrequently  fall  by  accident,  is  the  coach  yard  of  the 


»6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

Saracen's  Head  Inn ;  its  portal  guarded  by  two  Saracens' 
heads  and  shoulders,  which  it  was  once  the  pride  and  glory 
of  the  choice  spirits  of  this  metropolis  to  pull  down  at  night, 
but  which  have  for  some  time  remained  in  undisturbed  tran- 
quillity ;  possibly  because  this  species  of  humor  is  now  con- 
fined to  Saint  James's  parish,  where  door  knockers  are  preferred 
as  being  more  portable,  and  bell-wires  esteemed  as  convenient 
tooth-picks.  Whether  this  be  the  reason  or  not,  there  they 
are,  frowning  upon  you  from  each  side  of  the  gateway.  The 
inn  itself,  garnished  with  another  Saracen's  Head,  frowns 
upon  you  from  the  top  of  the  yard ;  while  from  the  door  of 
the  hind  boot  of  all  the  red  coaches  that  are  standing  therein, 
there  glares  a  small  Saracen's  Head,  with  a  twin  expression 
to  the  large  Saracens'  Heads  below,  so  that  the  general  ap- 
pearance of  the  pile  is  decidedly  of  the  Saracenic  order. 

When  you  walk  up  this  yard,  you  will  see  the  booking- 
ofifice  on  your  left,  and  the  tow^er  of  St.  Sepulchre's  church, 
darting  abruptly  up  into  the  sky,  on  your  right,  and  a  gallery 
of  bed-rooms  on  both  sides.  Just  before  you,  you  will  observe 
a  long  window  with  the  words  "  coffee-room  "  legibly  painted 
above  it ;  and  looking  out  of  that  window,  you  would  have 
seen  in  addition,  if  you  had  gone  at  the  right  time,  Mr.  Wack- 
ford  Squeers  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

Mr.  Squeers's  appearance  was  not  prepossessing.  He 
had  but  one  eye,  and  the  popular  prejudice  runs  in  favor  of 
two.  The  eye  he  had,  was  unquestionably  useful,  but  de- 
cidedly not  ornamental :  being  of  a  greenish  gray,  and  in 
shape  resembling  the  fan-light  of  a  street  door.  The  blank 
side  of  his  face  was  much  wrinkled .  and  puckered  up,  which 
gave  him  a  very  sinister  appearance,  especially  when  he  smiled, 
at  which  times  his  expression  bordered  closely  on  the  villainous. 
His  hair  was  very  flat  and  shiny,  save  at  the  ends,  where  it 
was  brushed  stilifly  up  from  a  low  protruding  forehead,  which 
assorted  well  with  his  harsh  voice  and  coarse  manner.  He 
was  about  two  or  three  and  fifty,  and  a  trifle  below  the  mid- 
dle size  ;  he  wore  a  white  neckerchief  with  long  ends,  and  a 
suit  of  scholastic  black ;  but  his  coat  sleeves  being  a  great 
deal  too  long,  and  his  trousers  a  great  deal  too  short,  he  ap- 
peared ill  at  ease  in  his  clothes,  and  as  if  he  were  in  a  per- 
petual state  of  astonishment  at  finding  himself  so  respectable. 

Mr.  Squeers  was  standing  in  a  box  by  one  of  the  coffee- 
room  fire-places,  fitted  with  one  such  table  as  is  usually  seen 
in  coffee-rooms,  and  two  of  extraordinar}-  shapes  and  dimen- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  37 

sions  made  to  suit  the  angles  of  the  partition.  In  a  corner  of 
the  seat,  was  a  very  small  deal  trunk,  tied  round  with  a  scanty 
piece  of  cord ;  and  on  the  trunk  was  perched — his  lace-up 
half-boots  and  corduroy  trousers  dangling  in  the  air — a  dimin- 
utive boy,  with  his  shoulders  drawn  up  to  his  ears,  and  his 
hands  planted  on  his  knees,  who  glanced  timidly  at  the 
schoolmaster,  from  time  to  time,  with  evident  dread  and  ap- 
prehension. 

"  Half-past  three,"  muttered  Mr.  Squeers,  turning  from 
the  window,  and  looking  sulkily  at  the  coffee-room  clock. 
"  There  will  be  nobody  here  to-day." 

Much  vexed  by  this  reflection,  Mr.  Squeers  looked  at  the 
little  boy  to  see  whether  he  was  doing  anything  he  could  beat 
him  for.  As  he  happened  not  to  be  doing  anything  at  all,  he 
merely  boxed  his  ears,  and  told  him  not  to  do  it  again. 

"  At  Midsummer,"  muttered  Mr.  Squeers,  resuming  his 
complaint,  "  I  took  down  ten  boys ;  ten  twentys  is  two  hun- 
dred pound.  I  go  back  at  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  morning, 
and  have  got  only  three — three  oughts  is  an  ought — three 
twos  is  six — sixty  pound.  What's  come  of  all  the  boys  ? 
what's  parents  got  in  their  heads  ?  what  does  it  all  mean  ?  " 

Here  the  little  boy  on  the  top  of  the  trunk  gave  a  violent 
sneeze. 

"  Halloa,  sir !  "  growled  the  schoolmaster,  turning  round. 
"  What's  that,  sir .? " 

"  Nothing,  please  sir,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"Nothing,  sir  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Squeers. 

"  Please,  sir,  I  sneezed,"  rejoined  the  boy,  trembling  till 
the  little  trunk  shook  under  him. 

"  Oh  !  sneezed,  did  you  ?  "  retorted  Mr.  Squeers.  "  Then 
what  did  you  say  '  nothing  '  for,  sir  ?  " 

In  default  of  a  better  answer  to  this  question,  the  little 
boy  screwed  a  couple  of  knuckles  into  each  of  his  eyes  and 
began  to  cry,  wherefore  Mr.  Squeers  knocked  him  off  the 
trunk  with  a  blow  on  one  side  of  his  face,  and  knocked  him 
on  again  with  a  blow  on  the  other. 

"  Wait  till  I  get  you  down  into  Yorkshire,  my  young 
gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  "  and  then  I'll  give  you  the 
rest.      Will  you  hold  that  noise,  sir  ?  " 

"Ye — ye — yes,"  sobbed  the  little  boy,  rubbing  his  face 
very  hard  with  the  Beggar's  Petition  in  printed  calico. 

"Then  do  so  at  once,  sir,"  said  Squeers.  "Do  you 
hear?" 


38  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

As  this  admonition  was  accompanied  with  a  threatening 
gesture,  and  uttered  with  a  savage  aspect,  the  httle  boy 
rubbed  his  face  harder,  as  if  to  keep  the  tears  back  ;  and, 
beyond  alternately  snitfing  and  choking,  gave  no  further  vent 
to  his  emotions. 

"  Mr.  Squeers,"  said  the  waiter,  loolcing  in  at  this  junc- 
ture ;  "here's  a  gentleman  asking  for  you  at  the  bar." 

"  Show  the  gentleman  in,  Richard,"  replied  Mr.  Squeers,  in 
a  soft  voice.  "  Put  your  handkerchief  in  your  pocket,  you  little 
scoundrel,  or  I'll  murder  you  when  the  gentleman  goes." 

The  schoolmaster  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words  in  a 
fierce  whisper,  when  the  stranger  entered.  Affecting  not  to 
see  him,  Mr.  Squeers  feigned  to  be  intent  upon  mending  a 
pen,  and  offering  benevolent  advice  to  his  youthful  pupil. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  "  all  people  have  their 
trials.  This  early  trial  of  yours  that  is  fit  to  make  your  little 
heart  burst,  and  your  very  eyes  come  out  of  your  head  with 
crying,  what  is  it  ?  Nothing-;  less  than  nothing.  You  are 
leaving  your  friends,  but  you  will  have  a  father  in  me,  my 
dear,  and  a  mother  in  Mrs.  Squeers.  At  the  delightful  village 
of  Dotheboys,  near  Greta  Bridge  in  Yorkshire,  where  youth 
are  boarded,  clothed,  booked,  washed,  furnished  with  pocket 
money,  provided  with  all  necessaries — " 

"  It  is  the  gentleman,"  observed  the  stranger,  stopping 
the  schoolmaster  in  the  rehearsal  of  his  advertisement.  "  Mr. 
Squeers,  I  believe,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  same,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  with  an  assumption  of 
extreme  surprise. 

"  The  gentleman,"  said  the  stranger,  "  that  advertised  in 
the  Times  newspaper .''  " 

— "  Morning  Post,  Chronicle,  Herald,  and  Advertiser,  re- 
garding the  Academy  called  Dotheboys  Hall  at  the  delightful 
village  of  Dotheboys,  near  Greta  Bridge  in  Yorkshire,"  added 
Mr.  Squeers.  "  You  come  on  business,  sir.  I  see  by  my 
young  friends.  How  do  you  do,  my  little  gentleman  }  and 
how  do  you  do  sir  t  "  With  this  salutation  Mr.  Squeers  pat- 
ted the  heads  of  two  hollow-eyed,  small-boned  little  boys, 
whom  the  applicant  had  brought  with  him,  and  waited  for  fur- 
ther communications. 

"  I  am  in  the  oil  and  color  way.  My  name  is  Snawley, 
sir,"  said  the  stranger. 

Squeers  inclined  his  head  as  much  as  to  say,  "And  a  re* 
markably  pretty  name,  too." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  3^ 

The  stranger  continued.  "  I  have  been  thinking,  Mr. 
Squeers,  of  placing  my  two  boys  at  your  school." 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  so,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Squeers, 
"but  I  don't  think  you  could  possibly  do  a  better  thing." 

"  Hem  !  "  said  the  other.  "  Twenty  pounds  per  annewum, 
I  believe,  Mr.  Squeers  ?  " 

"  Guineas,"  rejoined  the  schoolmaster,  with  a  persuasive 
smile. 

"  Pounds  for  two,  I  think,  Mr.  Squeers,"  said  Mr.  Snaw- 
ley,  solemnly. 

"  I  don't  think  it  could  be  done,  sir,"  replied  Squeers,  as  if 
he  had  never  considered  the  proposition  before.  "  Let  me  see  ; 
four  fives  is  twenty,  double  that,  and  deduct  the — well,  a 
pound  either  way  shall  not  stand  betwixt  us.  You  must  rec- 
ommend me  to  your  connection,  sir,  and  make  it  up  that 
way." 

"  They  are  not  great  eaters,"  said  Mr.  Snawley. 

"  Oh!  that  doesn't  matter  at  all,"  replied  Squeers.  "We 
don't  consider  the  boys'  appetites  at  our  establishment."  This 
was  strictly  true  ;  they  did  not. 

"  Every  wholesome  luxury,  sir,  that  Yorkshire  can  afford," 
continued  Squeers  :  "  every  beautiful  moral  that  Mrs.  Squeers 
can  instil  \  every — in  short,  every  comfort  of  a  home  that  a 
boy  could  wish  for,  will  be  theirs,  Mr.  Snawley." 

"  I  should  wish  their  morals  to  be  particularly  attended 
to,"   said  Mr.  Snawley. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  sir,"  replied  the  schoolmaster,  draw- 
ing himself  up.  "  They  have  come  to  the  right  shop  for  mor- 
als, sir." 

"  You  are  a  moral  man  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Snawley. 

"I  rather  believe  I  am,  sir,"  replied  Squeers. 

"  I  have  the  satisfaction  to  know  you  are,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Snawley.  "  I  asked  one  of  your  references,  and  he  said  3'ou 
were  pious." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  hope  I  am  a  little  in  that  line,"  replied 
Squeers. 

"  I  hope  I  am  also,"  rejoined  the  other.  "  Could  I  say  a 
few  words  with  you  in  the  next  box }  " 

"  By  all  means,"  rejoined  Squeers  with  a  grin.  "  My  dears, 
will  you  speak  to  your  new  playfellow  a  minute  or  two  ?  That 
is  one  of  my  boys,  sir.  Belling  his  name  is, — a  Taunton  boy 
that,  sir." 

"  Is  he,  indeed  ?  "  rejoined  Mr.  Snawley,  looking  at  the 


40  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

poor  little  urchin  as  if  he  were  some  extraordinary  natural 
curiosity. 

"  He  goes  clown  with  me  to-morrow,  sir,"  said  Squeers. 
"  That's  his  luggage  that  he  is  a  sitting  upon  now.  Each  boy 
is  required  to  bring,  sir,  two  suits  of  clothes,  six  shirts,  six 
pair  of  stockings,  two  nightcaps,  two  pocket-handkerchiefs, 
two  pair  of  shoes,  two  hats,  and  a  razor." 

"  A  razor  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Snawley,  as  they  walked  into 
the  next  box.     "  What  for  ?  " 

"To  shave  with,"  replied  Squeers,  in  a  slow  and  measured 
tone. 

There  was  not  much  in  these  three  words,  but  there  must 
have  been  something  in  the  manner  in  which  they  were  said, 
to  attract  attention  ;  for  the  schoolmaster  and  his  companion 
looked  steadily  at  each  other  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  ex- 
changed a  very  meaning  smile.,,  Snawley  was  a  sleek,  flat- 
nosed  man,  clad  in  sombre  garments,  and  long  black  gaiters, 
and  bearing  in  his  countenance  an  expression  of  much  morti- 
fication and  sanctity  ;  so,  his  smiling  without  any  obvious  rea- 
son was  the  more  remarkable. 

"  Up  to  what  age  do  you  keep  boys  at  your  school  then  ? " 
he  asked  at  length. 

"Just  as  long  as  their  friends  make  the  quarterly  payments 
to  my  agent  in  town,  or  until  such  time  as  they  run  away,"  re- 
plied Squeers.  "  Let  us  understand  each  other  ;  I  see  we  may 
safely  do  so.     What  are  these  boys  ; — natural  children  ?  " 

"  No,"  rejoined  Snawley,  meeting  the  gaze  of  the  school- 
master's one  eye.     "They  ain't." 

"  I  thought  they  might  be,"  said  Squeers,  coolly.  "  We 
have  a  good  many  of  them  ;  that  boy's  one." 

"  Him  in  the  next  box  ?  "  said  Snawley. 

Squeers  nodded  in  the  affirmative  ;  his  companion  took 
another  peep  at  the  little  boy  on  the  trunk,  and  turning  round 
again,  looked  as  if  he  were  quite  disappointed  to  see  him  so 
much  like  other  boys,  and  said  he  should  hardly  have  thought  it. 

"  He  is,"  cried  Squeers.  "  But  about  these  boys  of  yours  ; 
you  wanted  to  speak  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Snawley.  "  The  fact  is,  I  am  not  their 
father,  Mr.  Squeers.     I'm  only  their  father-in-law." 

"  Oh  !  Is  that  it  ?  "  said  the  schoolmaster.  "  That  ex- 
plains it  at  once.  I  was  wondering  what  the  devil  you  were 
going  to  send  them  to  Yorkshire  for.  Ha  !  ha !  Oh,  I  under- 
stand now." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  41 

"  You  see  I  have  married  the  mother,"  pursued  Snawley  ; 
"  it's  expensive  keeping  boys  at  home,  and  as  she  has  a  Uttle 
money  in  her  own  right,  I  am  afraid  (women  are  so  very  fool- 
ish, Mr.  Squeers)  that  she  might  be  led  to  squander  it  on  them, 
which  would  be  their  ruin,  you  know." 

"  /  see,"  returned  Squeers,  throwing  himself  back  in  his 
chair,  and  waving  his  hand. 

"  And  this,"  resumed  Snawley,  "has  made  me  anxious  to 
put  them  to  some  school  a  good  distance  olT,  where  there  are 
no  holidays — none  of  those  ill-judged  comings  home  twice  a 
year  that  unsettles  children's  minds  so — and  where  they  may 
rough  it  a  little — you  comprehend  ?  " 

^"  The  payments  regular,  and  no  questions  asked,"  said 
Squeers,  nodding  his  head. 

"  That's  it  exactly,"  rejoined  the  other.  "  Morals  strictly 
attended  to,  though." 

"Strictly,"  said  Squeers. 

"  Not  too  much  writing  home  allowed,  I  suppose  ? "  said 
the  father-in-law,  hesitating. 

"  None,  except  a  circular  at  Christmas,  to  say  they  never 
were  so  happy,  and  hope  they  may  never  be  sent  for,"  rejoined 
Squeers. 

"  Nothing  could  be  better,"  said  the  father-in-law,  rubbing 
his  hands.- 

"Then,  as  we  understand  each  other,"  said  Squeers,  "will 
you  allow  me  to  ask  you  whether  you  consider  me  a  highly 
virtuous,  exemplary,  and  well-conducted  man  in  private  life  ; 
and  whether,  as  a  person  whose  business  it  is  to  take  charge 
of  youth,  you  place  the  strongest  confidence  in  my  unim- 
peachable integrity,  liberality,  religious  principles,  and 
ability  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do,"  replied  the  father-in-law,  reciprocating 
the  schoolmaster's  grin. 

"  Perhaps  you  won't  object  to  say  that,  if  I  make  you  a 
reference  ? " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world." 

"  That's  your  sort !  "  said  Squeers,  taking  up  a  pen  ;  "  this 
is  doing  business,  and  that's  what  I  like." 

Having  entered  Mr.  Snawley's  address,  the  schoolmaster 
had  next  to  perform  the  still  more  agreeable  office  of  entering 
the  receipt  of  the  first  quarter's  payment  in  advance,  which 
he  had  scarcely  completed,  when  another  voice  was  heard  in- 
quiring for  Mr.  Squeers. 


42  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Here  he  is,"  replied  the  schoolmaster;  "  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Only  a  matter  of  business,  sir,"  said  Ralph  Nickleby, 
presenting  himself,  closely  followed  by  Nicholas.  "  There 
was  an  advertisement  of  yours  in  the  papers  this  morn- 
ing?" 

*'  There  was,  sir.  This  way,  if  you  please,"  said  Squeers, 
who  had  by  this  time  got  back  to  the  box  by  the  fire-place. 
"Won't  you  be  seated?" 

"  Why,  I  think  I  will,"  replied  Ralph,  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word,  and  placing  his  hat  on  the  table  before  him.  "  This 
is  my  nephew,  sir,  Mr.  Nicholas  Nickleby." 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  "  said  Squeers. 

Nicholas  bowed,  said  he  was  very  well,  and  seemed  very 
much  astonished  at  the  outward  appearance  of  the  proprietor 
of  Dotheboys  Hall :  as  indeed  he  was. 

"  Perhaps  you  recollect  me  ?  "  said  Ralph,  looking  nar- 
rowly at  the  school  master. 

"  You  paid  me  a  small  account  at  each  of  my  half-yearly 
visits  to  town,  for  some  years,  I  think,  sir,"  replied  Squeers. 

"I  did,"  rejoined  Ralph. 

"  For  the  parents  of  a  boy  named  Dorker,  who  unfortu- 
nately— " 

" — unfortunately  died  at  Dotheboys  Hall,"  said  Ralph,  fin- 
ishing the  sentence. 

"I  remember  very  well,  sir,"  rejoined  Squeers.  "Ah! 
Mrs.  Squeers,  sir,  was  as  partial  to  that  lad  as  if  he  had  been 
her  own  ;  the  attention,  sir,  that  was  bestowed  upon  that  boy  in 
his  illness !  Dry  toast  and  warm  tea  offered  him  every  night 
and  morning  when  he  couldn't  swallow  anything — a  candle  in 
his  bed-room  on  the  very  night  he  died — the  best  dictionary 
sent  up  for  him  to  lay  his  head  upon — I  don't  regret  it  though. 
It  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  reflect  that  one  did  one's  duty  by 
him." 

Ralph  smiled,  as  if  he  meant  anything  but  smiling,  and 
looked  round  at  the  strangers  present. 

"  These  are  only  some  pupils  of  mine,"  said  Wackford 
Squeers,  pointing  to  the  little  boy  on  the  trunk  and  the  two 
little  boys  on  the  floor,  who  had  been  staring  at  each  other 
without  uttering  a  word,  and  writhing  their  bodies  into  most 
remarkable  contortions,  according  to  the  custom  of  little  boys 
when  they  first  become  acquainted.  "  This  gentleman,  sir,  is 
a  parent  who  is  kind  enough  to  compliment  me  upon  the  course 
of  education  adopted  at  Dotheboys  Hall,  which  is  situated, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  43 

sir,  at  the  delightful  village  of  Dotheboys,  near  Greta  Bridge 
in  Yorkshire,  where  youth  are  boarded,  clothed,  booked, 
washed,  furnished  with  pocket-money — " 

"  Yes,  we  know  all  about  that,  sir,"  interrupted  Ralph, 
testily.     "  It's  in  the  advertisement." 

"  You  are  very  right,  sir ;  it  is  in  the  advertisement,"  re- 
plied Squeers. 

"And  in  the  matter  of  fact  besides,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Snawley.  "  I  feel  bound  to  assure  you,  sir,  and  I  am  proud 
to  have  this  opportunity  <?/■  assuring  you,  that  I  consider  Mr. 
Squeers  a  gentleman  highly  virtuous,  exemplary,  well-con- 
ducted, and — " 

"  I  make  no  doubt  of  it,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  checking  the 
torrent  of  recommendation  ;  "  no  doubt  of  it  at  all.  Suppose 
we  come  to  business  ?  " 

"  With  all  my  heart,  sir,"  rejoined  Squeers.  _  '_' '  Never 
postpone  business,'  is  the  very  first  lesson  we  instil  into  our 
commercial  pupils.  Master  Belling,  my  dear,  always  remem- 
ber that ;  do  you  hear?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  repeated  Master  Belling. 

"  He  recollects  what  it  is,  does  he  ? "  said  Ralph. 

"Tell  the  gentleman,"  said  Squeers. 

"  '  Never,'  "  repeated  Master  Belling. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Squeers  ;  "  go  on." 

"  Never,"  repeated  Master  Belling  again. 

*'  Very  good  indeed,"  said  Squeers.     "  Yes." 

"  P,"  suggested  Nicholas,  good-naturedly. 

"  Perform— business  !  "  said  Master  Belling.  "  Never— 
perform — business  !  " 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  said  Squeers,  darting  a  withering  look  at 
the  culprit.  "  You  and  I  will  perform  a  little  business  on  our 
private  account  by  and  by." 

"And  just  now,"  said  Ralph,  "  we  had  better  transact  our 
own,  perhaps." 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Squeers. 

"  Well,"  resumed  Ralph,  "  it's  brief  enough  ;  soon  broach- 
ed ;  and  I  hope  easily  concluded.  You  have  advertised  for 
an  able  assistant,  sir  t  " 

"Precisely  so,"  said  Squeers. 

"  And  you  really  want  one  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  answered  Squeers. 

"  Here  he  is  !  "  said  Ralph.  "  My  nephew  Nicholas,  hot 
from  school,  with  everything  he  learnt  there,  fermenting  in  his 


44 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


head,  and  nothing  fermenting  in  his  pocket,  is  just  the  man 
you  want." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Squeers,  perplexed  with  such  an  appli- 
cation from  a  youth  of  Nicholas's  figure,  "  I  am  afraid  the 
young  man  won't  suit  me." 

"  Yes,  he  will,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  I  know  better.  Don't  be 
cast  down,  sir  ;  you  will  be  teaching  all  the  young  noblemen  in 
Dotheboys  Hall  in  less  than  a  week's  time,  unless  this  gentle- 
man is  more  obstinate  than  I  take  him  to  be." 

"  I  fear,  sir,"  said  Nicholas,  addressing  Mr.  Squeers,  "  that 
you  object  to  my  youth,  and  to  my  not  being  a  Master  of 
Arts  .? " 

"The  absence  of  a  college  degree  is  an  objection,"  replied 
Squeers,  looking  as  grave  as  he  could,  and  considerably  puz- 
zled, no  less  by  the  contrast  between  the  simplicity  of  the 
nephew  and  the  worldly  manner  of  his  uncle,  than  by  the  in- 
comprehensible allusion  to  the  young  noblemen  under  his 
tuition. 

"  Look  here,  sir,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  I'll  put  this  matter  in  its 
true  light  in  two  seconds." 

"  If  you'll  have  the  goodness,"  rejoined  Squeers. 

"This  is  a  boy,  or  a  youth,  or  a  lad,  or  a  young  man,  or  a 
hobbledehoy,  or  whatever  you  like  to  call  him,  of  eighteen  or 
nineteen,  or  thereabouts,"  said  Ralph. 

"  That  I  see,"  observed  the  schoolmaster. 

"So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Snawley,  thinking  it  as  well  to  back 
his  new  friend  occasionally. 

"  His  father  is  dead,  he  is  wholly  ignorant  of  the  world, 
has  no  resources  whatever,  and  wants  something  to  do,"  said 
Ralph.  "  I  recommend  him  to  this  splendid  establishment  of 
yours,  as  an  opening  which  will  lead  him  to  fortune  if  he  turns 
it  to  proper  account.     Do  you  see  that  ?  " 

"  Everybody  must  see  that,"  replied  Squeers,  half  imita- 
ting the  sneer  with  which  the  old  gentleman  was  regarding  his 
unconscious  relative. 

"  I  do,  of  course,"  said  Nicholas,  eagerly. 

"  He  does,  of  course,  you  observe,"  said  Ralph,  in  the 
same  dry,  hard  manner.  "  If  any  caprice  of  temper  should 
induce  him  to  cast  aside  this  golden  opportunity  before  he  has 
brought  it  to  perfection,  I  consider  myself  absoh'ed  from  ex- 
tending any  assistance  to  his  mother  and  sister.  Look  at  him, 
and  think  of  the  use  he  may  be  to  you  in  half  a  dozen  ways  ! 
Now,  the  question  is,  whether,  for  some   time  to  come  at  all 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


45 


events,  he  won't  serve  your  purpose  better  than  twenty  of  the 
kind  of  people  you  would  get  under  ordinary  circumstances. 
Isn't  that  a  question  for  consideration  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  said  Squeers,  answering  a  nod  of  Ralph's 
head  with  a  nod  of  his  own. 

"  Good,"  rejoined  Ralph.  "  Let  me  have  two  words  with 
you." 

The  two  words  were  had  apart ;  in  a  couple  of  minutes 
Mr.  Wackford  Squeers  announced  that  Mr.  Nicholas  Nickleby 
was,  from  that  moment,  thoroughly  nominated  to,  and  in- 
stalled in,  the  office  of  first  assistant  master  at  Dotheboys 
Hall. 

"  Your  uncle's  recommendation  has  done  it,  Mr,  Nickleby," 
said  Wackford  Squeers. 

Nicholas,  overjc^-ed  at  his  success,  shook  his  uncle's  hand 
warmly,  and  could  almost  have  worshipped  Squeers  upon  the 
spot. 

"  He  is  an  odd-looking  man,"  thought  Nicholas.  "  What 
of  that  ?  Porson  was  an  odd-looking  man,  and  so  was  Dr. 
Johnson  ;  all  these  bookworms  are." 

"  At  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said 
Squeers,  "  the  coach  starts.  You  must  be  here  at  a  quarter 
before,  as  we  take  these  boys  with  us." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  Nicholas. 

"And  your  fare  down,  I  have  paid,"  growled  Ralph. 
"  So,  you'll  have  nothing  to  do  but  keep  yourself  warm." 

Here  was  another  instance  of  his  uncle's  generosit}'^ ! 
Nicholas  felt  his  unexpected  kindness  so  much,  that  he  could 
scarcely  tind  words  to  thank  him  ;  indeed,  he  had  not  found 
half  enough,  when  they  took  leave  of  the  schoolmaster,  and 
emerged  from  the  Saracen's  Head  gateway. 

"  I  shall  be  here  in  the  morning  to  see  you  fairly  off,"  said 
Ralph.     "No  skulking!" 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas  ;  "  I  never  shall  forget 
this  kindness." 

"  Take  care  you  don't,"  replied  his  uncle.  "  You  had 
better  go  home  now,  and  pack  up  what  you  have  got  to  pack. 
Do  you  think  you  could  find  your  way  to  Golden  Square 
first?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Nicholas.     "  I  can  easily  inquire." 

"  Leave  these  papers  with  my  clerk,  then,"  said  Ralph, 
producing  a  small  parcel,  "  and  tell  him  to  wait  till  I  come 
home." 


46  NICHOLAS  mCKLEBY. 

Nicholas  cheerfully  undertook  the  errand,  and  bidding  his 
worthy  uncle  an  affectionate  farewell,  which  that  warm-hearted 
old  gentleman  acknowledged  by  a  growl,  hastened  away  to 
execute  his  commission. 

He  found  Golden  Square  in  due  course  ;  Mr.  Noggs,  who 
had  stepped  out  for  a  minute  or  so  to  the  public-house,  was 
opening  the  door  with  a  latch-key  as  he  reached  the  steps. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  inquired  Noggs,  pointing  to  the  parcel. 

"  Papers  from  my  uncle,"  replied  Nicholas  ;  "  and  you're 
to  have  the  goodness  to  wait  till  he  comes  home,  if  you 
please." 

"  Uncle  !  "  cried  Noggs. 

"Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Nicholas  in  explanation. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Newman. 

Without  another  word  he  led  Nicholas  into  the  passage, 
and  thence  into  the  official  pantry  at  the  end  of  it,  where  he 
thrust  him  into  a  chair,  and  mounting  upon  his  high  stool, 
with  his  arms  hanging  straight  down  by  his  sides,  gazing 
fixedly  upon  him,  as  from  a  tower  of  observation. 

"  There  is  no  answer,"  said  Nicholas,  laying  the  parcel  on 
a  table  beside  him. 

Newman  said  nothing,  but  folding  his  arms,  and  thrusting 
his  head  forward  so  as  to  obtain  a  nearer  view  of  Nicholas's 
face,  scanned  his  features  closely. 

"No  answer,"  said  Nicholas,  speaking  very  loud,  under 
the  impression  that  Newman  Noggs  was  deaf. 

Newman  placed  his  hands  upon  his  knees,  and,  without 
uttering  a  syllable,  continued  the  same  close  scrutiny  of  his 
companion's  face. 

This  was  such  a  very  singular  proceeding  on  the  part  of  an 
utter  stranger,  and  his  appearance  was  so  extremely  peculiar, 
that  Nicholas,  who  had  a  sufficiently  keen  sense  of  the  ridic- 
ulous, could  not  refrain  from  breaking  into  a  smile  as  he  in- 
quired whether  Mr.  Noggs  had  any  commands  for  him. 

Noggs  shook  his  head  and  sighed  ;  upon  which  Nicholas 
rose,  and  remarking  that  he  required  no  rest,  bade  him  good- 
morning. 

It  was  a  great  exertion  for  Newman  Noggs,  and  nobody 
knows  to  this  day  how  he  ever  came  to  make  it,  the  other 
party  being  wholly  unknown  to  him,  but  he  drew  a  long  breath 
and  actually  said,  out  loud,  without  once  stopping,  that  if  the 
young  gentleman  did  not  object  to  tell,  he  should  like  to  know 
what  his  uncle  was  going  to  do  for  him. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  47 

Nicholas  had  not  the  least  objection  in  the  world,  but  on 
the  contrary  was  rather  pleased  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
talking  on  the  subject  which  occupied  his  thoughts  ;  so,  he 
sat  down  again,  and  (his  sanguine  imagination  warming  as 
he  spoke)  entered  into  a  fervent  and  glowing  description  of 
all  the  honors  and  advantages  to  be  derived  from  his  ap- 
pointment at  that  seat  of  learning,  Dotheboys  Hall. 

"  But,  what's  the  matter — are  you  ill  ? "  said  Nicholas, 
suddenly  breaking  off,  as  his  companion,  after  throwing  him- 
self into  a  variety  of  uncouth  attitudes,  thrust  his  hands  under 
the  stool,  and  cracked  his  finger-joints  as  if  he  were  snapping 
all  the  bones  in  his  hands. 

Newman  Noggs  made  no  reply,  but  went  on  shrugging  his 
shoulders  and  cracking  his  finger-joints  ;  smiling  horribly  all 
the  time,  and  looking  steadfastly  at  nothing,  out  of  the  tops 
of  his  eyes,  in  a  most  ghastly  manner. 

At  first,  Nicholas  thought  the  mysterious  man  was  in  a  fit, 
but,  on  further  consideration,  decided  that  he  was  in  liquor, 
under  which  circumstances  he  deemed  it  prudent  to  make  off 
at  once.  He  looked  back  when  he  had  got  the  street-door 
open.  Newman  Noggs  was  still  indulging  in  the  same  extra- 
ordinary gestures,  and  the  cracking  of  his  lingers  sounded 
louder  than  ever. 


CHAPTER  V. 

NICHOLAS  STARTS  FOR  YORKSHIRE.  OF  HIS  LEAVE-TAKING  AND 
HIS  FELLOW-TRAVELLERS,  AND  WHAT  BEFELL  THEM  ON  THE 
ROAD. 

If  tears  dropped  into  a  trunk  were  charms  to  preserve  its 
owner  from  sorrow  and  misfortune,  Nicholas  Nickleby  would 
have  commenced  his  expedition  under  most  happy  auspices. 
There  was  so  much  to  be  done,  and  so  little  time  to  do  it  in  ; 
so  many  kind  words  to  be  spoken,  and  such  bitter  pain  in  the 
hearts  in  which  they  rose  to  impede  their  utterance  ;  that  the 
little  preparations  for  his  journey  were  made  mournfully  in- 
deed. x\  hundred  things  which  the  anxious  care  of  his  mother 
and  sister  deemed  indispensable'  for  his  comfort,  Nicholas  in- 
sisted on  leaving  behind,  as  they  might  prove  of  some  after 


48  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

use,  or  might  be  convertible  into  money  if  occasion  required. 
A  hundred  affectionate  contests  on  such  points  as  these,  took 
place  on  the  sad  night  which  preceded  his  departure  ;  and,  as 
the  termination  of  every  angerless  dispute  brought  them  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  close  of  their  slight  preparations,  Kate  grew 
busier  and  busier,  and  wept  more  silently. 

The  box  was  packed  at  last,  and  then  there  came  supper, 
with  some  little  delicacy  provided  for  the  occasion,  and  as  a 
set-off  against  the  expense  of  which,  Kate  and  her  mother  had 
feigned  to  dine  when  Nicholas  was  out.  The  poor  lad  nearly 
choked  himself  by  attempting  to  partake  of  it,  and  almost  suf- 
focated himself  in  affecting  a  jest  or  two,  and  forcing  a  melan- 
choly laugh.  Thus  they  lingered  on  till  the  hour  of  separa- 
ting for  the  night  was  long  past ;  and  then  they  found  that  they 
might  as  well  have  given  vent  to  their  real  feelings  before,  for 
they  could  not  suppress  them,  do  what  they  would.  So,  they 
let  them  have  their  way,  and  even  that  was  a  relief. 

Nicholas  slept  well  till  six  next  morning  ;  dreamed  of  home, 
or  of  what  was  home  once — no  matter  which,  for  things  that 
are  changed  or  gone  will  come  back  as  they  used  to  be,  thank 
God  !  in  sleep — and  rose  quite  brisk  and  gay.  He  wrote  a 
few  lines  in  pencil,  to  say  the  good-by  which  he  was  afraid  to 
pronounce  himself,  and  laying  them,  with  half  his  scanty  stock 
of  money,  at  his  sister's  door,  shouldered  his  box  and  crept 
softly  down  stairs. 

"  Is  that  you,  Hannah  ?  "  cried  a  voice  from  Miss  La 
Greevy's  sitting-room,  whence  shone  the  light  of  a  feeble  candle. 

"It  is  I,  Miss  La  Greevy,"  said  Nicholas,  putting  down  the 
box  and  looking  in. 

"  Bless  us  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  La  Greevy,  starting  and  put- 
ting her  hand  to  her  curl-papers  ;  "  You're  up  very  early,  Mr. 
Nickleby." 

"  So  are  you,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  It's  the  fine  arts  that  bring  me  out  of  bed,  Mr.  Nickle- 
by," returned  the  lady.  "  I'm  waiting  for  the  light  to  carry 
out  an  idea." 

Miss  La  Greevy  had  got  up  early  to  put  a  fancy  nose  into 
a  miniature  of  an  ugly  little  boy,  destined  for  his  grandmother 
in  the  country,  who  was  expected  to  bequeath  him  property  if 
he  was  like  the  family. 

"  To  carry  out  an  idea,"  repeated  Miss  La  Greevy  ;  "  and 
that's  the  great  convenience  of  living  in  a  thoroughfare  like 
the  Strand.     When  I  want  a  nose  or  an  eye  for  any  particular 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  4g 

sitter,  I  have  only  to  look  out  of  window  and  wait  till  I  get 
one." 

"  Does  it  take  long  to  get  a  nose,  now  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas. 

"Why,  that  depends  in  a  great  measure  on  the  pattern," 
replied  Miss  La  Greevy.  "  Snubs  and  romans  are  plentiful 
enough,  and  there  are  flats  of  all  sorts  and  sizes-  when  there's 
a  meeting  at  Exeter  Hall ;  but  perfect  aquilines,  I  am  soriy  to 
say,  are  scarce,  and  we  generally  use  them  for  uniforms  or 
public  characters." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Nicholas.  "  If  I  should  meet  with  any  in 
my  travels,  I'll  endeavor  to  sketch  them  for  you." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are  really  going  all  the  way 
down  into  Yorkshire  this  cold  winter's  weather,  Mr.  Nickleby  1 " 
said  Miss  La  Greevy.     "  I  heard  something  of  it  last  night." 

"  I  do  indeed,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  Needs  must,  you 
know,  when  somebody  drives.  Necessity  is  my  driver,  and 
that  is  only  another  name  for  the  same  gentleman." 

"Well,  I  am  very  sorry  for  it;  that's  all  I  can  say,"  said 
Miss  La  Greevy  ;  "  as  much  on  your  mother's  and  sister's  ac- 
count as  on  yours.  Your  sister  is  a  very  pretty  young  lady, 
Mr.  Nickleby,  and  that  is  an  additional  reason  why  she  should 
have  somebody  to  protect  her.  I  persuaded  her  to  give  me  a 
sitting  or  two,  for  the  street  door  case.  Ah  !  she'll  make  a 
sweet  miniature."  As  Miss  La  Greevy  spoke,  she  held  up  an 
ivory  countenance  intersected  with  very  perceptible  sky-blue 
veins,  and  regarded  it  with  so  much  complacency,  that 
Nicholas  quite  envied  her. 

"  If  you  ever  have  an  opportunity  of  showing  Kate  some 
little  kindness,"  said  Nicholas,  presenting  his  hand,  "  I  think 
you  will." 

"  Depend  upon  that,"  said  the  good  natured  miniature 
painter  ;  "  and  God  bless  you,  Mr.  Nickleby  ;  and  I  wish  you 
well." 

"  It  was  very  little  that  Nicholas  knew  of  the  world,  but  he 
guessed  enough  about  its  ways  to  think,  that  if  he  gave  Miss 
La  Greevy  one  little  kiss,  perhaps  she  might  not  be  the  less 
kindly  disposed  towards  those  he  was  leaving  behind.  So  he 
gave  her  three  or  four  with  a  kind  of  jocose  gallantry,  and  Miss 
La  Greevy  evinced  no  greater  symptoms  of  displeasure  than 
declaring,  as  she  adjusted  her  yellow  turban,  that  she  had 
never  heard  of  such  a  thing,  and  couldn't  have  believed  it 
possible. 

Having  terminated  the  unexpected  interview  in  this  satis- 

4 


2  o  NIC  HO  L  A  S  NICKLEB  Y. 

factory  manner,  Nicholas  hastily  withdrew  himself  from  the 
house.  By  the  time  he  had  found  a  man  to  carry  his  box  it 
was  only  seven  o'clock,  so  he  walked  slowly  ,on,  a  little  in  ad- 
vance of  the  porter,  and  very  probably  with  not  half  as  light 
a  heart  in  his  breast  as  the  man  had,  although  he  had  no  waist- 
coat to  cover  it  with,  and  had  evidently,  from  the  appearance 
of  his  other  garments,  been  spending  the  night  in  a  stable, 
and  taking  his  breakfast  at  a  pump. 

Regarding,  with  no  small  curiosity  and  interest,  all  the 
busy  preparations  for  the  coming  day  which  every  street  and 
almost  every  house  displayed  ;  and  thinking,  now  and  then, 
that  it  seemed  rather  hard  that  so  many  people  of  all  ranks 
and  stations  could  earn  a  livelihood  in  London,  and  that  he 
should  be  compelled  to  journey  so  far  in  search  of  one  ;  Nich- 
olas speedily  arrived  at  the  Saracen's  Head,  Snow  Hill.  Hav- 
ing dismissed  his  attendant,  and  seen  the  box  safely  deposited 
in  the  coach-office,  he  looked  into  the  coffee-room  in  search  of 
Mr.  Squeers. 

He  found  that  learned  gentleman  sitting  at  breakfast,  with 
the  three  little  boys  before  noticed,  and  two  others  who  had 
turned  up  by  some  lucky  chance  since  the  interview  of  the 
previous  day,  ranged  in  a  row  on  the  opposite  seat.  Mr. 
Squeers  had  before  him  a  small  measure  of  coffee,  a  plate  of 
hot  toast,  and  a  cold  round  of  beef  ;  but  he  was  at  that  mo- 
ment intent  on  preparing  breakfast  for  the  little  boys. 

"This  is  twopenn'orth  of  milk,  is  it  waiter? "said  Mr. 
Squeers,  looking  down  into  a  large  blue,  mug,  and  slanting  it 
gently,  so  as  to  get  an  accurate  view  of  the  quantity  of  liquid 
contained  in  it. 

"  That's  twopenn'orth,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

"  What  a  rare  article  milk  is,  to  be  sure,  in  London  !  "  said 
Mr.  Squeers  with  a  sigh.  "  Just  fill  that  mug  up  with  luke- 
warm water,  William,  will  you  ?  " 

"  To  the  wery  top,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the  waiter.  "  Why  the 
milk  will  be  drownded." 

"  Never  you  mind  that,"  replied  Mr.  Squeers.  "  Serve  it 
risfht  for  being  so  dear.  You  ordered  that  thick  bread  and 
butter  for  three,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Coming  directly,  sir." 

"  You  needn't  hurry  yourself,"  said  Squeers ;  "  there's 
plenty  of  time.  Conquer  your  passions,  boys,  and  don't  be 
eager  after  vittles."  As  he  uttered  this  moral  precept,  Mr. 
Squeers  took  a  large  bite  out  of  the  cold  beef,  and  recognized 
Nicholas. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


SI 


"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Squeers.  "  Here  we  are, 
a  breakfasting  you  see  !  " 

Nicholas  did  not  see  that  anybody  was  breakfasting,  except 
Mr.  Squeers  ;  but  he  bowed  with  all  becoming  reverence,  and 
looked  as  cheerful  as  he  could. 

"  Oh  !  that's  the  milk  and  water,  is  it,  William  t  "  said 
Squeers.  "  Very  good  ;  don't  forget  the  bread  and  butter 
presently." 

At  this  fresh  mention  of  the  bread  and  butter,  the  five 
little  boys  looked  very  eager,  and  followed  the  waiter  out, 
with  their  eyes  ;  meanwhile  Mr.  Squeers  tasted  the  milk  and 
water. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  that  gentleman,  smacking  his  lips,  "  here's 
richness  !  Think  of  the  many  beggars  and  orphans  in  the 
streets  that  would  be  glad  of  this,  little  boys.  A  shocking 
thing  hunger  is,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Nickleby  ?  " 

"Very  shocking,  sir,''  said  Nicholas. 

"  When  I  say  number  one,"  pursued  Mr.  Squeers,  putting 
the  mug  before  the  children,  "  the  boy  on  the  left  hand  near- 
est the  window  may  take  a  drink  ;  and  when  I  say  number 
two,  the  boy  next  him  will  go  in,  and  so  till  we  come  to 
number  five,  which  is  the  last  boy.     Are  you  ready  .''  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  cried  all  the  little  boys  with  great  eagerness. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Squeers,  calmly  getting  on  with  his 
breakfast ;  keep  ready  till  I  tell  you  to  begin.  Subdue  your 
appetites,  my  dears,  and  you've  conquered  human  natur.  This 
is  the  way  we  inculcate  strength  of  mind,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said 
the  schoohii aster,  turning  to  Nicholas,  and  speaking  with  his 
mouth  very  full  of  beef  and  toast. 

Nicholas  murmured  something — he  knew  not  what — in 
reply ;  and  the  little  boys,  dividing  their  gaze  between  the 
mug,  the  bread  and  butter  (which  had  by  this  time  arrived), 
and  every  morsel  which  Mr.  Squeers  took  into  his  mouth,  re- 
mained with  strained  eyes  in  torments  of  expectation. 

"  Thank  God  for  a  good  breakfast,"  said  Squeers  when  he 
had  finished.     "  Number  one  may  take  a  drink." 

Number  one  seized  the  mug  ravenously,  and  had  just  drunk 
enough  to  make  him  wish  for  more,  when  Mr.  Squeers  gave 
the  signal  for  number  two,  who  gave  up  at  the  same  interest- 
ing moment  to  number  three  ;  and  the  process  was  repeated 
until  the  milk  and  water  terminated  with  number  five. 

"And  now,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  dividing  the  bread  and 
butter  for  three  into  as  many  portions  as  there  were  children, 


C2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY 

"  you  had  better  look  sharp  with  your  breakfast,  for  the  horn 
will  blow  in  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  every  boy  leaves  off." 

Permission  being  thus  given  to  fall  to,  the  boys  began  to 
eat  voraciously,  and  in  desperate  haste :  while  the  school- 
master (who  was  in  high  good  humor  after  his  meal)  picked 
his  teeth  with  a  fork,  and  looked  smilingly  on.  In  a  very 
short  time,  the  horn  was  heard. 

"  I  thought  it  wouldn't  be  long,"  said  Squeers,  jumping  up 
and  producing  a  little  basket  from  under  the  seat ;  "  put  what 
you  haven't  had  time  to  eat,  in  here,  boys  !  You'll  want  it  on 
the  road  !  " 

Nicholas  was  considerably  startled  by  these  very  eco- 
nomical arrangements  ;  but  he  had  no  time  to  reflect  upon 
them,  for  the  little  boys  had  to  be  got  up  to  the  top  of  the 
coach,  and  their  boxes  had  to  be  brought  out  and  put  in,  and 
Mr.  Squeers's  luggage  was  to  be  seen  carefully  deposited  in 
the  boot,  and  all  these  offices  were  in  his  department.  He 
was  in  the  full  heat  and  bustle  of  concluding  these  operations, 
when  his  uncle,  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby,  accosted  him. 

"  Oh  !  here  you  are,  sir  !  "  said  Ralph.  "  Here  are  your 
mother  and  sister,  sir." 

"  Where  !  "  cried  Nicholas,  looking  hastily  round. 
"  Here  !  "  replied  his  uncle.     "  Having  too  much  money 
and  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  it,  they  were  paying  a  hackney 
coach  as  I  came  up,  sir." 

'•  We  were  afraid  of  being  too  late  to  see  him  before  he 
went  away  from  us,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  embracing  her  son, 
heedless  of  the  unconcerned  lookers-on  in  the  coach-yard. 

"Very  good,  ma'am,"  returned  Ralph,  "you're  the  best 
judge  of  course,  I  merely  said  that  you  were  paying  a  hack- 
ney coach.  /  never  pay  a  hackney  coach,  ma'am,  I  never 
hire  one.  I  haven't  been  in  a  hackney  coach  of  my  own  hir- 
ing for  thirty  years,  and  I  hope  I  shan't  be  for  thirty  more,  if 
I  live  as  long." 

"  I  should  never  have  forgiven  myself  if  I  had  not  seen 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Poor  dear  boy — going  away 
without  his  breakfast  too,  because  he  feared  to  distress  us !  " 
"  Mighty  fine  certainly,"  said  Ralph,  with  great  testiness. 
"When  I  first  went  to  business,  ma'am,  I  took  a  penny  loaf 
and  a  ha'porth  of  milk  for  my  breakfast  as  I  walked  to  the 
city  every  morning  \  what  do  you  say  to  that,  ma'am  ?  Break- 
fast !     Bah  !  " 

"Now,    Nickleby,"    said    Squeers,    coming    up    at    the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


S3 


moment  buttoning  his  greatcoat ;  "  I  think  you'd  better  get 
up  behind.  I'm  afraid  of  one  of  them  boys  falUng  off,  and 
then  there's  twenty  pound  a  year  gone." 

"Dear  Nicholas,"  whispered  Kate,  touching  her  brother's 
arm,  "  who  is  that  vulgar  man  ?  " 

•'  Eh  !  "  growled  Ralph,  whose  quick  ears  had  caught  the 
inquiry.  "  Do  you  wish  to  be  introduced  to  Mr.  Squeers,  my 
dear.?" 

"  That  the  schoolmaster  !  No,  uncle.  Oh  no  !  "  replied 
Kate,  shrinking  back. 

"  I'm  sure  I  heard  you  say  as  much,  my  dear,"  retorted 
Ralph  in  his  cold  sarcastic  manner.  "  Mr.  Squeers,  here's 
my  niece  :   Nicholas's  sister  !  " 

"Very  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  miss,"  said 
Squeers,  raising  his  hat  an  inch  or  two.  "I  wish  Mrs. 
Squeers  took  gals,  and  we  had  you  for  a  teacher.  I  don't 
know,  though,  whether  she  mightn't  grow  jealous  if  we  had. 
Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

If  the  proprietor  of  Dotheboys  Hall  could  have  known 
what  was  passing  in  his  assistant's  breast  at  that  moment,  he 
would  have  discovered,  with  some  surprise,  that  he  was  as 
near  being  soundly  pummelled  as  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life. 
Kate  Nickleby,  having  a  quicker  perception  of  her  brother's 
emotions,  led  him  gently  aside,  and  thus  prevented  Mr. 
Squeers  from  being  impressed  with  the  fact  in  a  peculiarly 
disagreeable  manner. 

"My  dear  Nicholas,"  said  the  young  lady,  "who  is  this 
man  ?  What  kind  of  place  can  it  be  that  you  are  going 
to?" 

"  I  hardly  know,  Kate,"  replied  Nicholas,  pressing  his 
sister's  hand.  "  I  suppose  the  Yorkshire  folks  are  ra^their- 
rough  and  uncultivated  ;  that's  all." 

"  But  this  person,"  urged  Kate. 

"  Is  my  employer,  or  master,  or  whatever  the  proper  name 
may  be,"  replied  Nicholas  quickly,  "  and  I  was  an  ass  to  take 
his  coarseness  ill.  They  are  looking  this  way,  and  it  is  time  I 
was  in  my  place.  Bless  you  love,  and  good-by  !  Mother  ; 
look  forward  to  our  meeting  again  some  day !  Uncle,  fare- 
well !  Thank  you  heartily  for  all  you  have  done  and  all  you 
mean  to  do.     Quite  ready,  sir !  " 

With  these  hasty  adieux,  Nicholas  mounted  nimbly  to  his 
seat,  and  waved  his  hand  as  gallantly  as  if  his  heart  went 
with  it. 


54 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


At  this  moment,  when  the  coachman  and  guard  were  com- 
paring notes  for  the  last  time  before  starting,  on  the  subject 
of  the  way-bill ;  when  porters  were  screwing  out  the  last  re- 
luctant sixpences,  itinerant  newsmen  making  the  last  offer  of 
a  morning  paper,  and  the  horses  giving  the  last  impatient 
rattle  to  their  harness  ;  Nicholas  felt  somebody  softly  pulling 
at  his  leg.  He  looked  down,  and  there  stood  Newman  Noggs, 
who  pushed  up  into  his  hand  a  dirty  letter. 

"  What's  this  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas. 

"  Hush !  "  rejoined  Noggs,  pointing  to  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby, 
who  was  saying  a  few  earnest  words  to  Squeers,  a  short  dis- 
tance off.  "  Take  it.  Read  it.  Nobody  knows.  That's 
all." 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Nicholas. 

"  No,"  replied  Noggs. 

Nicholas  cried  stop,  again,  but  Newman  Noggs  was  gone. 

A  minute's  bustle,  a  banging  of  the  coach  doors,  a  swaying 
of  the  vehicle  to  one  side,  as  the  heavy  coachman,  and 
still  heavier  guard,  climbed  into  their  seats  ;  a  cry  of  all  right, 
a  few  notes  from  the  horn,  a  hasty  glance  of  two  sorrowful 
faces  below,  and  the  hard  features  of  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby — 
and  the  coach  was  gone  too,  and  rattling  over  the  stones  of 
Smithfield. 

The  little  boys'  legs  being  too  short  to  admit  of  their  feet 
resting  upon  anything  as  they  sat,  and  the  little  boys'  bodies 
being  consequently  in  imminent  hazard  of  being  jerked  off 
the  coach,  Nicholas  had  enough  to  do,  over  the  stones,  to 
hold  them  on.  Between  the  manual  exertion  and  the  mental 
anxiety  attendant  upon  this  task,  he  was  not  a  little  relieved 
when  the  coach  stopped  at  the  Peacock  at  Islington.  He 
was  still  more  relieved  when  a  hearty-looking  gentleman,  with 
a  very  good-humored  face,  and  a  very  fresh  color,  got  up 
behind,  and  proposed  to  take  the  other  corner  of  the  seat. 

^*  If  we  put  some  of  these  youngsters  in  the  middle,"  said 
the  new  comer,  "  they'll  be  safer  in  case  of  their  going  to 
sleep  ;  eh?  " 

"If  you'll  have  the  goodness,  sir,"  replied  Squeers, 
"  that'll  be  the  very  thing.  Mr.  Nickleby,  take  three  of  them 
boys  between  you  and  the  gentleman.  Helling  and  the 
youngest  Snawley  can  sit  between  me  and  the  guard.  Three 
children,  said  Squeers,  explaining  to  the  stranger,  "  books  as 
two." 

"I  have    not   the    least   objection,  I    am  sure,"  said    the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  ee 

fresh-colored  gentleman  ;  "  I  have  a  brother  who  wouldn't 
object  to  book  his  six  children  as  two  at  any  butcher's  or 
baker's  in  the  kingdom,  I  dare  say.     Far  from  it." 

"  Six  children,  sir  ?  "  exclaimed  Squeers. 

"Yes,  and  all  boys,"  replied  the  stranger, 

"  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Squeers,  in  great  haste,  "  catch 
hold  of  that  basket.  Let  me  give  you  a  card,  sir,  of  an  estab- 
lishment where  those  six  boys  can  be  brought  up  in  an  en- 
lightened, liberal  and  moral  manner,  with  no  mistake  at  all 
about  it,  for  twenty  guineas  a  year  each — twenty  guineas,  sir, 
— or  I'd  take  all  the  boys  together  upon  an  average  right 
through,  and  say  a  hundred  pound  a  year  for  the  lot." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  gentleman,  glancing  at  the  card,  "  you 
are  the  Mr.  Squeers  mentioned  here,  I  presume  ?  " 

"Yes  I  am,  sir,"  replied  the  worthy  pedagogue;  "Mr. 
Wackford  Squeers  is  my  name,  and  I'm  very  far  from  being 
ashamed  of  it.  These  are  some  of  my  boys,  sir  ;  that's  one 
of  my  assistants,  sir — Mr.  Nickleby,  a  gentleman's  son,  and 
a  good  scholar,  mathematical,  classical,  and  commercial,  \^'e 
don't  do  things  by  halves  at  our  shop.  All  manner  of  learn- 
ing my  boys  take  down,  sir ;  the  expense  is  never  thought  of ; 
and  they  get  paternal  treatment  and  washing  in." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  the  gentleman,  glancing  at  Nicho- 
las with  a  half  smile,  and  a  more  than  half  expression  of 
surprise,  "  these  are  advantages  indeed." 

"You  may  say  that,  sir,"  rejoined  Squeers,  thrusting  his 
hands  into  his  greatcoat  pockets.  "  The  most  unexception- 
able references  are  given  and  required.  I  wouldn't  take  a 
reference  with  any  boy,  that  wasn't  responsible  for  the  pay- 
ment of  five  pound  five  a  quarter,  no,  not  if  you  went  down 
on  your  knees,  and  asked  me  with  the  tears  running  down 
your  face,  to  do  it." 

"  Highly  considerate,"  said  the  passenger. 

"  It's  my  great  aim  and  end  to  be  considerate,  sir,"  re- 
joined Squeers.  "  Snawley,  junior,  if  you  don't  leave  off 
chattering  your  teeth,  and  shaking  with  the  cold,  I'll  warm 
you  with  a  severe  thrashing  in  about  half  a  minute's  time." 

"  Sit  fast  here,  genelmen,"  said  theguard  as  he  clambered 

"  All  right  behind  there,  Dick  ?  "  cried  the  coachman. 

"  All  right,"  was  the  reply.  "  Off  she  goes  !  "  And  off  she 
did  go, — if  coaches  be  feminine — amidst  a  loud  flourish  from 
the  guard's  horn,  and  the  calm  approval  of  all  the  judges  of 


56 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


coaches  and  coach-horses  congregated  at  the  Peacock,  but 
more  especially  of  the  helpers,  who  stood,  with  the  cloths 
over  their  arms,  watching  the  coach  till  it  disappeared,  and 
then  lounged  admiringly  stablewards,  bestowing  various  gruff 
encomiums  on  the  beauty  of  the  turn-out. 

When  the  guard  (who  was  a  stout  old  Yorkshireman)  had 
blown  himself  quite  out  of  breath,  he  put  the  horn  into  a 
little  tunnel  of  a  basket  fastened  to  the  coach  side  for  the 
purpose,  and  giving  himself  a  plentiful  shower  of  blows  on  the 
chest  and  shoulders,  observed  it  was  uncommon  cold ;  after 
which,  he  demanded  of  every  person  separately  whether  he 
was  going  right  through,  and  if  not  where  he  was  going. 
Satisfactory  replies  being  made  to  these  queries,  he  surmised 
that  the  roads  were  pretty  heavy  arter  that  fall  last  night,  and 
took  the  liberty  of  asking  whether  any  of  them  gentlemen 
carried  a  snuff-box.  It  happening  that  nobody  did,  he  re- 
marked with  a  mysterious  air  that  he  had  heard  a  medical 
gentleman  as  went  down  to  Grantham  last  week,  say  how  that 
snuff-taking  was  bad  for  the  eyes  ;  but  for  his  part  he  had 
never  found  it  so,  and  what  he  said  was,  that  everybody 
should  speak  as  they  found.  Nobody  attempting  to  contro- 
vert this  position,  he  took  a  small  brown-paper  parcel  out  of 
his  hat,  and  putting  on  a  pair  of  horn  spectacles  (the  writing 
being  crabbed)  read  the  direction  half-a-dozen  times  over  ; 
having  done  which,  he  consigned  the  parcel  to  its  old  place, 
put  up  his  spectacles  again,  and  stared  at  everj^body  in  turn. 
After  this,  he  took  another  blow  at  the  horn  by  way  of  refresh- 
ment ;  and,  having  now  exhausted  his  usual  topics  of  conver- 
sation, folded  his  arms  as  well  as  he  could  in  so  many  coats, 
and  falling  into  a  solemn  silence,  looked  carelessly  at  the 
familiar  objects  which  met  his  eye  on  every  side  as  the  coach 
rolled  on  ;  the  only  things  he  seemed  to  care  for,  being 
horses  and  droves  of  cattle,  which  he  scrutinized  with  a  criti- 
cal air  as  they  were  passed  upon  the  road. 

The  weather  was  intensely  and  bitterly  cold  ;  a  great  deal 
of  snow  fell  from  time  to  time  ;  and  the  wind  was  intolerably 
keen.  Mr.  Squeers  got  down  at  almost  every  stage — to 
stretch  his  legs  as  he  said — and  as  he  always  came  back 
from  such  excursions  with  a  very  red  nose,  and  composed 
himself  to  sleep  directly,  there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  he 
derived  great  benefit  from  the  process.  The  little  pupils 
having  been  stimulated  with  the  remains  of  their  breakfast, 
and   further   invigorated  by   sundry   small  cups  of  a  curious 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  57 

Cordial  carried  by  Mr.  Squeers,  which  tasted  very  like  toast- 
and-water  put  into  a  brandy  bottle  by  mistake,  went  to  sleep, 
woke,  shivered,  and  cried,  as  their  feelings  prompted.  Nich- 
olas and  the  good-tempered  man  found  so  many  things  to 
talk  about,  that  between  conversing  together,  and  cheering  up 
the  boys,  the  time  passed  with  them  as  rapidly  as  it  could, 
under  such  adverse  circumstances. 

So  the  day  wore  on.  At  Eton  Slocomb  there  was  a  good 
coach  dinner,  of  which  the  box,  the  four  front  outsides,  the 
one  inside,  Nicholas,  the  good-tempered  man,  and  Mr. 
Squeers,  partook  ;  while  the  five  little  boys  were  put  to  thaw 
by  the  fire,  and  regaled  with  sandwiches.  A  stage  or  two 
further  on,  the  lamps  were  lighted,  and  a  great  to-do  occa- 
sioned by  the  taking  up,  at  a  road-side  inn,  of  a  very  fastidious 
lady  with  an  infinite  variety  of  cloaks  and  small  parcels,  who 
loudly  lamented,  for  the  behoof  of  the  outsides,  the  non-arri- 
val of  her  own  carriage  which  was  to  have  taken  her  on,  and 
made  the  guard  solemnly  promise  to  stop  every  green  chariot 
he  saw  coming  ;  which,  as  it  was  a  dark  night  and  he  was 
sitting  with  his  face  the  other  way,  that  oificer  undertook,  with 
many  fervent  asseverations,  to  do.  Lastly,  the  fastidious  lady, 
finding  there  was  a  solitary  gentleman  inside,  had  a  small 
lamp  lighted  which  she  carried  in  her  reticule,  and  being  after 
much  trouble  shut  in,  the  horses  were  put  into  a  brisk  canter 
and  the  coach  was  once  more  in  rapid  motion. 

The  night  and  the  snow  came  on  together,  and  dismal 
enough  they  were.  There  was  no  sound  to  be  heard  but  the 
howling  of  the  wind  ;  for  the  noise  of  the  wheels,  and  the  tread 
of  the  horses'  feet,  were  rendered  inaudible  by  the  thick  coat- 
ing of  snow  which  covered  the  ground,  and  was  fast  increasing 
every  moment.  The  streets  of  Stamford  were  deserted  as 
they  passed  through  the  town  ;  and  its  old  churches  rose, 
frowning  and  dark,  from  the  whitened  ground.  Twenty  miles 
further  on,  two  of  the  front  outside  passengers  wisely  availing 
themselves  of  their  arrival  at  one  of  the  best  inns  in  England, 
turned  in  for  the  night,  at  the  George  at  Grantham.  The  re- 
mainder wrapped  themselves  more  closely  in  their  coats  and 
cloaks,  and  leaving  the  light  and  warmth  of  the  town  behind 
them,  pillowed  themselves  against  the  luggage,  and  prepared, 
with  many  half-suppressed  moans,  again  to  encounter  the 
piercing  blast  which  swept  across  the  open  country. 

They  were  little  more  than  a  stage  out  of  Grantham,  or 
about  half  wly  between  it  and  Newark,  when  Nicholas,  who 


^8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

had  been  asleep  for  a  short  time,  was  suddenly  roused  by  a 
violent  jerk  which  nearly  threw  him  from  his  seat.  Grasping 
the  rail,  he  found  that  the  coach  had  sunk  greatly  on  one  side, 
though  it  was  still  dragged  forward  by  the  horses  ;  and  while 
— confused  by  their  plunging  and  the  loud  screams  of  the 
lady  inside — he  hesitated,  for  an  instant,  whether  to  jump  off 
or  not,  the  vehicle  turned  easily  over,  and  relieved  him  from 
all  further  uncertainty  by  flinging  him  into  the  road. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IN  WHICH  THE  OCCURRENCE  OF  THE  ACCIDENT  MENTIONED 
IN  THE  LAST  CHAPTER,  AFFORDS  AN  OPPORTUNITY  TO  A 
COUPLE  OF  GENTLEMEN  TO  TELL  STORIES  AGAINST  EACH 
OTHER. 

"  Wo  ho  !  "  cried  the  guard,  on  his  legs  in  a  minute,  and 
running  to  the  leaders'  heads.  "  Is  there  ony  genelmen  there 
as  can  len'  a  bond  here  ?     Keep  quiet,  dang  ye  !     Wo  ho  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Nicholas,  looking  sleepily 
up. 

"  Matther  mun,  matther  eneaf  for  one  neight,"  replied  the 
guard  ;  "  dang  the  wall-eyed  bay,  he's  gane  mad  wi'  glory  I 
think,  carse  t'coorch  is  over.  Here,  can't  ye  len'  a  hond  ? 
Dom  it,  I'd  ha'  dean  it  if  all  my  boans  were  brokken." 

"  Here  !  "  cried  Nicholas,  staggering  to  his  feet.  "  I'm 
ready.     I'm  only  a  little  abroad,  that's  all." 

"  Hoold  'em  toight,"  cried  the  guard,  "  while  ar  coot 
treaces.  Hang  on  tiv  'em  sumhoo.  Weel  deane,  my  lod. 
That's  it.  Let  'em  goa  noo.  Dang  'em,  they'll  gang  whoam 
fast  eneaf  !  " 

In  truth,  the  animals  were  no  sooner  released  than  they 
trotted  back,  with  much  deliberation,  to  the  stable  they  had 
just  left,  which  was  distant  not  a  mile  behind. 

"  Can  you  bio'  a  harn  ?  "  asked  the  guard,  disengaging 
one  of  the  coach-lamps. 

^'  I  dare  say  I  can,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Then  just  bio'  away  into  that  'un  as  lies  on  the  grund, 
fit  to  wakken  the  deead,  will'ee,"  said  the  man,  "while  I  stop 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


59 


sum  o'  this  here  squealing  inside.  Cumin',  cumin'.  Doan't 
make  that  noise,  wooman." 

As  the  man  spoke,  he  proceeded  to  wrench  open  the  upper- 
most door  of  the  coach,  while  Nicholas,  seizing  the  horn, 
awoke  the  echoes  far  and  wide  with  one  of  the  most  extraor- 
dinary performances  on  that  instrument  ever  heard  by  mortal 
ears.  It  had  its  effect,  however,  not  only  in  rousing  such  of 
the  passengers  as  were  recovering  from  the  stunning  effects  of 
their  fall,  but  in  summoning  assistance  to  their  relief  ;  for 
lights  gleamed  in  the  distance,  and  people  were  already  astir. 

In  fact,  a  man  on  horseback  galloped  down,  before  the 
passengers  were  well  collected  together  ;  and  a  careful  inves- 
tigation being  instituted,  it  appeared  that  the  lady  inside  had 
broken  her  lamp,  and  the  gentleman  his  head  ;  that  the  two 
front  outsides  had  escaped  with  black  eyes  ;  the  box  with  a 
bloody  nose  ;  the  coachman  with  a  contusion  on  the  temple  ; 
Mr.  Squeers  with  a  portmanteau  bruise  on  his  back  ;  and  the 
remaining  passengers  without  any  injury  at  all — thanks  to  the 
softness  of  the  snow-drift  in  which  they  had  been  overturned. 
These  facts  were  no  sooner  thoroughly  ascertained,  than  the 
lady  gave  several  indications  of  fainting,  but  being  forewarned 
that  if  she  did,  she  must  be  carried  on  some  gentleman's 
shoulders  to  the  nearest  public  house,  she  prudently  thought 
better  of  it,  and  walked  back  with  the  rest. 

They  found  on  reaching  it,  that  it  was  a  lonely  place  with 
no  very  great  accommodation  in  the  way  of  apartments — that 
portion  of  its  resources  being  all  comprised  in  one  public 
room  with  a  sanded  floor,  and  a  chair  or  two.  However,  a 
large  faggot  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  coals  being  heaped  upon 
the  fire,  the  appearance  of  things  was  not  long  in  mending  ; 
and,  by  the  time  they  had  washed  off  all  effaceable  marks  of  the 
late  accident,  the  room  was  warm  and  light,  which  was  a  most 
agreeable  exchange  for  the  cold  and  darkness  out  of  doors. 

"Well,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Squeers,  insinuating  himself 
into  the  warmest  corner,  "you  did  very  right  to  catch  hold  of 
them  horses.  I  should  have  done  it  myself  if  I  had  come  to  in 
time,  but  I  am  very  glad  you  did  it.  You  did  it  very  well ; 
very  well." 

"  So  well,"  said  the  merry-faced  gentleman,  who  did  not 
seem  to  approve  very  much  of  the  patronizing  tone  adopted 
by  Squeers,  "  that  if  they  had  not  been  firmly  checked  when 
they  were,  you  would  most  probably  have  had  no  brains  left 
to  teach  with." 


6o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

This  remark  called  up  a  discourse  relative  to  the  prompti- 
tude Nicholas  had  displayed,  and  he  was  overwhelmed  with 
compliments  and  commendations. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  have  escaped,  of  course,"  obser\-ed 
Squeers  ;  "  every  man  is  glad  when  he  escapes  from  danger  ; 
but  if  any  one  of  my  charges  had  been  hurt — if  I  had  been 
prevented  from  restoring  any  one  of  these  little  boys  to  his 
parents  whole  and  sound  as  I  received  him — what  would  have 
been  my  feelings  ?  Why  the  wheel  a-top  of  my  head  would 
have  been  far  preferable  to  it." 

"  Are  they  all  brothers,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the  lady  who  had 
carried  the  "  Davy  "  or  safety-lamp. 

"  In  one  sense  they  are,  ma'am,"  replied  Squeers,  diving 
into  his  greatcoat  pocket  for  cards.  "  They  are  all  under  the 
same  parental  and  affec'tionate  treatment.  Mrs.  Squeers  and 
myself  are  a  mother  and  father  to  every  one  of  'em.  Mr. 
Nickleby,  hand  the  lady  them  cards,  and  offer  these  to  the 
gentlemen.  Perhaps  they  might  know  of  some  parents  that 
would  be  glad  to  avail  themselves  of  the  establishment." 

Expressing  himself  to  this  effect,  Mr.  Squeers,  who  lost 
no  opportunity  of  advertising  gratuitously,  placed  his  hands 
upon  his  knees,  and  looked  at  the  pupils  with  as  much  benignity 
as  he  could  possibly  affect,  while  Nicholas,  blushing  with 
shame,  handed  round  the  cards  as  directed. 

"  I  hope  you  suffer  no  inconvenience  from  the  overturn, 
ma'am  ?  "  said  the  merry-faced  gentleman,  addressing  the  fas- 
tidious lady,  as  though  he  were  charitably  desirous  to  change 
the  subject. 

"  No  bodily  inconvenience,"  replied  the  lady. 
"  No  mental  inconvenience,  I  hope  ?  " 
"The  subject   is  a  very  painful  one  to   my  feelings,  sir," 
replied  the  lady  with   strong   emotion  ;  "  and   I   beg  you  as  a 
gentleman,  not  to  refer  to  it." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  the  merry-faced  gentleman,  looking  mer- 
rier still,   "  I  merely  intended  to  inquire " 

"I  hope  no  inquiries  will  be  made,"  said  the  lady,  "or  I 
shall  be  compelled  to  throw  myself  on  the  protection  of  the 
other  gentlemen.  Landlord,  pray  direct  a  boy  to  keep  watch 
outside  the  door — and  if  a  green  chariot  passes  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Grantham,  to  stop  it  instantly." 

The  people  of  the  house  were  evidently  overcome  by  this 
request,  and  when  the  lady  charged  the  boy  to  remember,  as 
a  means  of  identifying  the  expected  green   chariot,  that   it 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  6i 

would  have  a  coachman  with  a  gold-laced  hat  on  the  box,  and 
a  footman,  most  probably  in  silk  stockings,  behind,  the  atten- 
tions of  the  good  woman  of  the  inn  were  redoubled.  Even 
the  box-passenger  caught  the  infection,  and  growing  wonder- 
fully deferential,  immediately  inquired  whether  there  was  not 
very  good  society  in  that  neighborhood,  to  which  the  lady  re- 
plied yes,  there  was  :  in  a  manner  which  sufficiently  implied 
that  she  moved  at  the  very  tiptop  and  summit  of  it  all. 

"As  the  guard  has  gone  on  horseback  to  Grantham  to  get 
another  coach,"  said  the  good-tempered  gentleman  when  they 
had  all  been  sitting  round  the  fire,  for  some  time  in  silence, 
"  and  as  he  must  be  gone  a  couple  of  hours  at  the  very  least, 
I  propose  a  bowl  of  hot  punch.     What  say  you,  sir  ?  " 

This  question  was  addressed  to  the  broken-headed  inside, 
who  was  a  man  of  very  genteel  appearance,  dressed  in  mourn- 
ing. He  was  not  past  the  middle  age,  but  his  hair  was  gray ; 
it  seemed  to  have  been  prematurely  turned  by  care  or  sorrow. 
He  readily  acceded  to  the  proposal,  and  appeared  to  be  pre- 
possessed by  the  frank  good-nature  of  the  individual  from 
whom  it  emanated. 

This  latter  personage  took  upon  himself  the  office  of  tap- 
ster when  the  punch  was  ready,  and  after  dispensing  it  all 
round,  led  the  conversation  to  the  antiquities  of  York,  with 
which  both  he  and  the  gray-haired  gentleman  appeared  to  be 
well  acquainted.  When  this  topic  flagged,  he  turned  with  a 
smile  to  the  gray-headed  gentleman,  and  asked  if  he  could  sing. 

"  I  cannot  indeed,"  replied  the  gentleman,  smiling  in  his 
turn. 

"That's  a  pity,"  said  the  owner  of  the  good-humored 
countenance.  "  Is  there  nobody  here  who  can  sing  a  song  to 
lighten  the  time  ?  " 

The  passengers,  one  and  all,  protested  that  they  could  not ; 
that  they  wished  they  could  ;  that  they  couldn't  remember  the 
words  of  anything  without  the  book  ;  and  so  forth. 

"Perhaps  the  lady  would  not  object,"  said  the  president 
with  great  respect,  and  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  Some 
little  Italian  thing  out  of  the  last  opera  brought  out  in  town, 
would  be  most  acceptable  I  am  sure." 

As  the  lady  condescended  to  make  no  reply,  but  tossed 
her  head  contemptuously,  and  murmured  some  further  expres- 
sion of  surprise  regarding  the  absence  of  the  green  chariot, 
one  or  two  voices  urged  upon  the  president  himself,  the  pro- 
priety of  making  an  attempt  for  the  general  benefit. 


6  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  I  would  if  I  could,"  said  he  of  the  good-tempered  race  ; 
"  for  I  hold  that  in  this,  as  in  all  other  cases  where  people 
who  are  strangers  to  each  other  are  thrown  unexpectedly  to- 
gether, they  should  endeavor  to  render  themselves  as  pleasant, 
for  the  joint  sake  of  the  little  community,  as  possible." 

"  I  wish  the  maxim  were  more  generally  acted  on,  in  all 
cases,"  said  the  gray-headed  gentleman. 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  returned  the  other.  "  Perhaps,  as 
you  can't  sing  you'll  tell  us  a  story  ?  " 

"Nay.     I  should  ask  you." 

"  After  you,  I  will,  with  pleasure." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  the  gray-haired  gentleman,  smiling. 
"  Well,  let  it  be  so.  I  fear  the  turn  of  my  thoughts  is  not 
calculated  to  lighten  the  time  you  must  pass  here  ;  but  you 
have  brought  this  upon  yourselves,  and  shall  judge.  We  were 
speaking  of  York  Minster  just  now.  My  story  shall  have  some 
reference  to  it.     Let  us  call  it 


THE  FIVE  SISTERS   OF   YORK. 

After  a  murmur  of  approbation  from  the  other  passengers, 
during  which  the  fastidious  lady  drank  a  glass  of  punch  unob- 
served, the  gray-headed  gentleman  thus  went  on  : 

"  A  great  many  years  ago — for  the  fifteenth  century  was 
scarce  two  years  old  at  the  time,  and  King  Henry  the  Fourth 
sat  upon  the  throne  of  England — there  dwelt,  in  the  ancient 
city  of  York,  five  maiden  sisters,  the  subjects  of  my  tale. 

"  These  five  sisters  were  all  of  surpassing  beauty.  The 
eldest  was  in  her  twenty-third  year,  the  second  a  year  younger, 
the  third  a  year  younger  than  the  second,  and  the  fourth  a 
year  younger  than  the  third.  They  were  tall,  stately  figures, 
with  dark  flashing  eyes  and  hair  of  jet ;  dignity  and  grace 
were  in  their  every  movement ;  and  the  fame  of  their  great 
beauty  had  spread  through  all  the  country  round. 

"  But  if  the  four  elder  sisters  were  lovely,  how  beautiful 
was  the  youngest,  a  fair  creature  of  sixteen  !  The  blushing 
tints  in  the  soft  bloom  on  the  fruit,  or  the  delicate  painting  on 
the  flower,  are  not  more  exquisite  than  was  the  blending  of 
the  rose  and  the  lily  in  her  gentle  face,  or  the  deep  blue  of 
her  eye.  The  vine,  in  all  its  elegant  luxuriance,  is  not  more 
graceful  than  were  the  clusters  of  rich  brown  hair  that 
sported  round  her  brow. 

"  If  we  all  had  hearts  like  those  which  beat  so  lightly  in 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  63 

the  bosoms  of  the  young  and  beautiful,  what  a  heaven  this 
earth  would  be  !  If,  while  our  bodies  grow  old  and  withered, 
our  hearts  could  but  retain  their  early  youth  and  freshness,  of 
what  avail  would  be  our  sorrows  and  sufferings  !  But,  the 
faint  image  of  Eden  which  is  stamped  upon  them  in  childhood, 
chafes  and  rubs  in  our  rough  struggles  with  the  world,  and 
soon  wears  away :  too  often  to  leave  nothing  but  a  mournful 
blank  remaining. 

"  The  heart  of  this  fair  girl  bounded  with  joy  and  gladness. 
Devoted  attachment  to  her  sisters,  and  a  fervent  love  of  all 
beautiful  things  in  natura,  were  its  pure  affections.  Her  glee- 
some  voice  and  merry  laugh  were  the  sweetest  music  of  their 
home.  She  was  its  very  light  and  life.  The  brightest  flowers 
in  the  garden  were  reared  by  her ;  the  caged  birds  sang  when 
they  heard  her  voice,  and  pined  when  they  missed  its  sweet- 
ness. Alice,  dear  Alice  ;  what  living  thing  within  the  sphere 
of  her  gentle  witchery  could  fail  to  love  her  ! 

"  You  may  seek  in  vain,  now,  for  the  spot  on  which  these 
sisters  lived,  for  their  ver}'  names  have  passed  away,  and  dusty 
antiquaries  tell  of  them  as  of  a  fable.  But  they  dwelt  in  an 
old  wooden  house — old  even  in  those  days — with  overhanging 
gables  and  balconies  of  rudely-carved  oak,  which  stood  within 
a  pleasant  orchard,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  rough  stone  wall, 
whence  a  stout  archer  might  have  winged  an  arrow  to  Saint 
Mary's  abbey.  The  old  abbey  flourished  then  ;  and  the  five 
sisters,  living  on  its  fair  domains,  paid  yearly  dues  to  the  black 
monks  of  Saint  Benedict,  to  which  fraternity  it  belonged. 

"  It  was  a  bright  and  sunny  morning  in  the  pleasant  time 
of  summer,  when  one  of  those  black  monks  emerged  from  the 
abbey  portal,  and  bents  his  steps  towards  the  house  of  the 
fair  sisters.  Heaven  above  was  blue,  and  earth  beneath  was 
green  ;  the  river  glistened  like  a  path  of  diamonds  in  the  sun ; 
the  birds  poured  "forth  their  songs  from  the  shady  trees  ;  the 
lark  soared  high  above  the  waving  corn  ;  and  the  deep  buzz 
of  insects  filled  the  air.  Everything  looked  gay  and  smiling  ; 
but  the  holy  man  walked  gloomily  on,  with  his  eyes  bent  upon 
the  ground.  The  beauty  of  the  earth  is  but  a  breath,  and 
man  is  but  a  shadow.  What  sympathy  should  a  holy  preacher 
have  with  either  ? 

"  With  eyes  bent  upon  the  ground,  then,  or  only  raised 
enough  to  prevent  his  stumbling  over  such  obstacles  as  lay  in 
his  way,  the  religious  man  moved  slowly  forward  until  he 
reached  a  small  postern  in  the  wall  of  the  sisters'  orchard, 


64 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


through  which  he  passed,  closing  it  behind  him.  The  noise 
of  soft  voices  in  conversation,  and  of  merry  laughter,  fell  upon 
his  ears  ere  he  had  advanced  many  paces  ;  and  raising  his 
eyes  higher  than  was  his  humble  wont,  he  descried,  at  no  great 
distance,  the  five  sisters  seated  on  the  grass,  with  Alice  in  the 
centre  :  all  busily  plying  their  customary  task  of  embroidering. 

"  '  Save  you,  fair  daughters  !  '  said  the  friar  ;  and  fair  in 
truth  they  were.  Even  a  monk  might  have  loved  them  as 
choice  master-pieces  of  his  Maker's  hand. 

"  The  sisters  saluted  the  holy  man  with  becoming  rever- 
ence, and  the  eldest  motioned  him,  to  a  mossy  seat  beside 
them.  But  the  good  friar  shook  his  head,  and  bumped  him- 
self down  on  a  very  hard  stone, — at  which,  no  doubt,  approv- 
ing angels  were  gratified. 

" '  Ye  were  merry,  daughters,'  said  the  monk. 

" '  You  know  how  light  of  heart  sweet  Alice  is,"  replied  the 
eldest  sister,  passing  her  fingers  through  the  tresses  of  the 
smiling  girl. 

"  '  And  what  joy  and  cheerfulness  it  wakes  up  within  us, 
to  see  all  nature  beaming  in  brightness  and  sunshine,  father,' 
added  Alice,  blushing  beneath  the  stern  look  of  the  recluse. 

"  The  monk  answered  not,  save  by  a  grave  inclination  of 
the  head,  and  the  sisters  pursued  their  task  in  silence. 

" '  Still  wasting  the  precious  hours,'  said  the  monk  at 
length,  turning  to  the  eldest  sister  as  he  spoke,  '  still  wasting 
the  precious  hours  on  this  vain  trifling.  Alas,  alas  !  that  the 
few  bubbles  on  the  surface  of  eternity — all  that  Heaven  wills 
we  should  see  of  that  dark  deep  stream — should  be  so  lightly 
scattered  ! ' 

"  '  Father,'  urged  the  maiden,  pausing,  as  did  each  of  the 
others,  in  her  busy  task,  '  we  have  prayed  at  matins,  our  daily 
alms  have  been  distributed  at  the  gate,  the  sick  peasants  have 
been  tended, — all  our  morning  tasks  have  been  performed. 
I  hope  our  occupation  is  a  blameless  one  ? ' 

" '  See  here,'  said  the  friar,  taking  the  frame  from  her 
hand,  '  an  intricate  winding  of  gaudy  colors,  without  purpose 
or  object,  unless  it  be  that  one  day  it  is  destined  for  some 
vain  ornament,  to  minister  to  the  pride  of  your  frail  and  giddy 
sex.  Day  after  day  has  been  employed  upon  this  senseless 
task,  and  yet  it  is  not  half  accomplished.  The  shade  of  each 
departed  day  falls  upon  our  graves,  and  the  worm  exults  as 
he  beholds  it,  to  know  that  we  are  hastening  thither.  Daugh- 
ters, is  there  no  better  way  to  pass  the  fleeting  hours  ? ' 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  65 

"  The  four  elder  sisters  cast  down  their  eyes  as  if  abashed 
by  the  holy  man's  reproof,  but  Alice  raised  hers,  and  bent 
them  mildly  on  the  friar. 

"  'Our  dear  motlier,'  said  the  maiden  ;  '  Heaven  rest  her 
soul ! ' 

"  '  Amen  ! '  cried  the  friar  in  a  deep  voice. 

"'Our  dear  mother,' faltered  the  fair  Alice,  'was  living 
when  these  long  tasks  began,  and  bade  us,  when  she  should 
be  no  more,  ply  them  in  all  discretion  and  cheerfulness,  in  our 
leisure  hours  ;  she  said  that  if  in  harmless  mirth  and  maidenly 
pursuits  we  passed  those  hours  together,  they  would  prove  the 
happiest  and  most  peaceful  of  our  lives,  and  that  if,  in  later 
times,  we  went  forth  into  the  world,  and  mingled  with  its 
cares  and  trials — if,  allured  by  its  temptations  and  dazzled  by 
its  glitter,  we  ever  forgot  that  love  and  duty  which  should 
bind,  in  holy  ties,  the  children  of  one  loved  parent — a  glance 
at  the  old  work  of  our  common  girlhood  would  awaken  good 
thoughts  of  by-gone  days,  and  soften  our  hearts  to  affection 
and  love.' 

"  '  Alice  speaks  truly,  father,'  said  the  elder  sister,  some- 
what proudly.  And  so  saying  she  resumed  her  work,  as  did 
the  others. 

"  It  was  a  kind  of  sampler  of  large  size,  that  each  sister 
had  before  her  \  the  device  was  of  a  complex  and  intricate 
description,  and  the  pattern  and  colors  of  all  five  were  the 
same.  The  sisters  bent  gracefully  over  their  work  ;  the  monk, 
resting  his  chin  upon  his  hands,  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
in  silence. 

"  '  How  much  better,'  he  said  at  length,  '  to  shun  all  such 
thoughts  and  chances,  and,  in  the  peaceful  shelter  of  the 
church,  devote  your  lives  to  Heaven  !  Infancy,  childhood, 
the  prime  of  life,  and  old  age,  wither  as  rapidly  as  they  crowd 
upon  each  other.  Think  how  human  dust  rolls  onward  to  the 
tomb,  and  turning  your  faces  steadily  towards  that  goal,  avoid 
the  cloud  which  takes  its  rise  among  the  pleasures  of  the 
world,  and  cheats  the  senses  of  their  votaries.  The  veil, 
daughters,  the  veil ! ' 

"  '  Never,  sisters,'  cried  Alice.  '  Barter  not  the  light  and 
air  of  heaven,  and  the  freshness  of  earth  and  all  the  beautiful 
things  which  breathe  upon  it,  for  the  cold  cloister  and  the  cell. 
Nature's  own  blessings  are  the  proper  goods  of  life,  and  we 
may  share  them  sinlessly  together.  To  die  is  our  heavy  por- 
tion, but,  oh,  let  us  die  with  life   about  us  ;  when  our  cold 

5 


66  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

hearts  cease  to  beat,  let  warm  hearts  be  beating  near  ;  let  our 
last  look  be  upon  the  bounds  which  God  has  set  to  his  own 
bright  skies,  and  not  on  stone  walls  and  bars  of  iron  !  Dear 
sisters,  let  us  live  and  die,  if  you  list,  in  this  green  garden's 
compass ;  only  shun  the  gloom  and  sadness  of  a  cloister,  and 
we  shall  be  happy.' 

"  The  tears  fell  fast  from  the  maiden's  eyes  as  she  closed 
her  impassioned  appeal,  and  hid  her  face  in  the  bosom  of  her 
sister. 

'"Take  comfort,  Alice,'  said  the  eldest,  kissing  her  fair 
forehead.  '  The  veil  shall  never  cast  its  shadow  on  thy  young 
brow.  How  say  you,  sisters  .''  For  yourselves  you  speak,  and 
not  for  Alice,  or  for  me.' 

"  The  sisters,  as  with  one  accord,  cried  that  their  lot  was 
cast  together,  and  that  there  were  dwellings  for  peace  and  vir- 
tue beyond  the  convent's  walls. 

"'Father,'  said  the  eldest  lady,  rising  with  dignity,  'you 
hear  our  final  resolve.  The  same  pious  care  which  enriched 
the  abbey  of  Saint  Mary,  and  left  us,  orphans,  to  its  holy 
guardianship,  directed  that  no  constraint  should  be  imposed 
upon  our  inclinations,  but  that  we  should  be  free  to  live  ac- 
cording to  our  choice.  Let  us  hear  no  more  of  this,  we  pray 
you.  Sisters,  it  is  nearly  noon.  Let  us  take  shelter  until 
evening  ! '  With  a  reverence  to  the  friar,  the  lady  rose  and 
walked  towards  the  house,  hand  in  hand  with  Alice  ;  the  other 
sisters  followed. 

"  The  holy  man,  who  had  often  urged  the  same  point  be- 
fore, but  had  never  met  with  so  direct  a  repulse,  walked  some 
little  distance  behind,  with  his  eyes  bent  upon  the  earth,  and 
his  lips  moving  as  if  in  prayer.  As  the  sisters  reached  the 
porch,  he  quickened  his  pace,  and  called  upon  them  to  stop. 

"  '  Stay  !  '  said  the  monk,  raising  his  right  hand  in  the  air, 
and  directing  an  angry  glance  by  turns  at  Alice  and  the  elder 
sister,  '  Stay,  and  hear  from  me  what  these  recollections  are, 
which  you  would  cherish  above  eternity,  and  awaken — if  in 
mercy  they  slumbered — by  means  of  idle  toys.  The  memory 
of  earthly  things  is  charged,  in  after  life,  with  bitter  disap- 
pointment, affliction,  death  ;  with  dreary  change  and  wasting 
sorrow.  The  time  will  one  day  come,  when  a  glance  at  those 
unmeaning  baubles  will  tear  open  deep  wounds  in  the  hearts 
of  some  among  you,  and  strike  to  your  inmost  souls.  When 
that  hour  arrives — and,  mark  me,  come  it  will — -turn  from  the 
world  to  which  you  clung,  to  the  refuge   which  you  spurned. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


67 


Find  me  the  cell  which  shall  be  colder  than  tlie  fire  of  mor- 
tals grows,  when  dimmed  by  calamity  and  trial,  and  there 
weep  for  the  dreams  of  youth.  These  things  are  Heaven's 
will,  not  mine,'  said  the  friar,  subduing  his  voice  as  he  looked 
round  upon  the  shrinking  girls.  '  The  Virgin's  blessing  be 
upon  you,  daughters  !  '  ~ 

"  With  these  words  he  disappeared  through  the  postern  ; 
and  the  sisters  hastening  into  the  house  were  seen  no  more 
that  day. 

"  But  nature  will  smile  though  priests  may  frown,  and 
next  day  the  sun  shone  brightly,  and  on  the  next,  and  the 
next  again.  And  in  the  morning's  glare,  and  the  evening's 
soft  repose,  the  five  sisters  still  walked,  or  worked,  or  beguiled 
the  time  by  cheerful  conversation,  in  their  quiet  orchard. 

''  Time  passed  away  as  a  tale  that  is  told  ;  faster  indeed 
than  many  tales  that  are  told,  of  which  number  I  fear  that 
this  may  be  one.  The  house  of  the  five  sisters  stood  where 
it  did,  and  the  same  trees  cast  their  pleasant  shade  upon  the 
orchard  grass.  The  sisters  too  were  there,  and  lovely  as  at 
first,  but  a  change  had  come  over  their  dwelling.  Sometimes, 
there  was  the  clash  of  armor,  and  the  gleaming  of  the  moon 
on  caps  of  steel  ;  and,  at  others,  jaded  coursers  were  spurred 
up  to  the  gate,  and  a  female  form  glided  hurriedly  forth,  as  if 
eager  to  demand  tidings  of  the  weary  messenger.  A  goodly 
train  of  knights  and  ladies  lodged  one  night  within  the  abbey 
walls,  and  next  day  rode  away,  with  two  of  the  fair  sisters 
among  them.  Then,  horsemen  began  to  come  less  frequently, 
and  seemed  to  bring  bad  tidings  when  they  did,  and  at  length 
they  ceased  to  come  at  all,  and  footsore  peasants  slunk  to  the 
gate  after  sunset,  and  did  their  errand  there,  by  stealth. 
Once,  a  vassal  was  despatched  in  haste  to  the  abbey  at  dead 
of  night,  and  when  morning  came,  there  were  sounds  of  woe 
and  wailing  in  the  sisters'  house  ;  and  after  this,  a  mournful 
silence  fell  upon  it,  and  knight  or  lady,  horse  or  armor,  was 
seen  about  it  no  more. 

"There  was  a  sullen  darkness  in  the  sky,  and  the  sun  had 
gone  angrily  down,  tinting  the  dull  clouds  with  the  last  traces 
of  his  wrath,  when  the  same  black  monk  walked  slowly  on, 
with  folded  arms,  within  a  stones-'throw  of  the  abbey.  A 
blight  had  fallen  on  the  trees  and  shrubs  ;  and  the  wind,  at 
length  becinnin";  to  break  the  unnatural  stillness  that  had 
prevailed  all  day,  sighed  heavily  from  time  to  time,  as  though 
foretelling  in  grief  the  ravages  of  the  coming  storm.    The  bat 


68  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

skimmed  in  fantastic  flights  through  the  heavy  air,  and  the 
ground  was  aUve  with  crawling  things,  whose  instinct  brought 
them  forth  to  swell  and  fatten  in  the  rain. 

"  No  longer  were  the  friar's  eyes  directed  to  the  earth  ; 
they  were  cast  abroad,  and  roamed  from  point  to  point,  as  if 
the  gloom  and  desolation  of  the  scene  found  a  quick  response 
in  his  own  bosom.  Again  he  paused  near  the  sisters'  house, 
and  again  he  entered  by  the  postern. 

"  But  not  again  did  his  ear  encounter  the  sound  of  laughter, 
or  his  eyes  rest  upon  the  beautiful  figures  of  the  five  sisters. 
All  was  silent  and  deserted.  The  boughs  of  the  trees  were 
bent  and  broken,  and  the  grass  had  grown  long  and  rank. 
No  light  feet  had  pressed  it  for  many,  many,  a  day. 

"With  the  indifl:erence  or  abstraction  of  one  well  accus- 
tomed to  the  change,  the  monk  glided  into  the  house,  and 
entered  a  low,  dark  room.  Four  sisters  sat  there.  Their 
black  garments  made  their  pale  faces  whiter  still,  and  time 
and  sorrow  had  worked  deep  ravages.  They  were  stately  yet, 
but  the  flush  and  pride  of  beauty  were  gone. 

"  And  Alice — where  was  she  ?    In  Heaven. 

"  The  monk — even  the  monk — could  bear  with  some  grief 
here  ;  for  it  was  long  since  these  sisters  had  met,  and  there 
were  furrows  in  their  blanched  faces  which  years  could  never 
plough.  He  took  his  seat  in  silence,  and  motioned  them  to 
continue  their  speech. 

"  '  They  are  here,  sisters,'  said  the  elder  lady  in  a  trem- 
bling voice.  '  I  have  never  borne  to  look  upon  them  since, 
and  now  I  blame  myself  for  my  weakness.  What  is  there  in 
her  memory  that  we  should  dread  ?  To  call  up  our  old  days, 
shall  be  a  solemn  pleasure  yet.' 

"  She  glanced  at  the  monk  as  she  spoke,  and,  opening  a 
cabinet,  brought  forth  the  five  frames  of  work,  completed 
long  before.  Her  step  was  firm,  but  her  hand  trembled  as 
she  produced  the  last  one  ;  and,  when  the  feelings  of  the 
other  sisters  gushed  forth  at  sight  of  it,  her  pent-up  tears 
made  way,  and  she  sobbed  '  Gob  bless  her  ! ' 

"The  monk  rose  and  advanced  towards  them.  'It  was 
almost  the  last  thing  she  touched  in  health,'  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  '  It  was,'  cried  the  elder  lady,  weeping  bitterly. 

"  The  monk  turned  to  the  second  sister. 

"  '  The  gallant  youth  who  looked  into  thine  eyes,  and  hung 
upon  thy  very  breath  when  first  he  saw  thee  intent  upon  this 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


69 


pastime,  lies  buried  on  a  plain  whereof  the  turf  is  red  with 
blood.  Rusty  fragments  of  armor,  once  brightly  burnished, 
lie  rotting  on  the  ground,  and  are  as  little  distinguishable  for 
his,  as  are  the  bones  that  crumble  in  the  mould !  ' 

"  The  lady  groaned,  and  wrung  her  hands. 

"  '  The  policy  of  courts,'  he  continued,  turning  to  the  two 
other  sisters,  '  drew  ye  from  your  peaceful  home  to  scenes  of 
revelry  and  splendor.  The  same  policy,  and  the  restless  am- 
bition of  proud  and  fiery  men,  have  sent  ye  back,  widowed 
maidens,  and  humbled  outcasts.     Do  I  speak  truly  ? ' 

"  The  sobs  of  the  two  sisters  were  their  only  reply. 

"  '  There  is  little  need,'  said  the  monk,  with  a  meaning 
look,  '  to  fritter  away  the  time  in  gewgaws  which  shall  raise 
up  the  pale  ghosts  of  hopes  of  early  years.  Bury  them,  heap 
penance  and  mortification  on  their  heads,  keep  them  down, 
and  let  the  convent  be  their  grave  ! ' 

"  The  sisters  asked  for  three  days  to  deliberate  ;  and  felt, 
that  night,  as  though  the  veil  were  indeed  the  fitting  shroud 
for  their  dead  joys.  But,  morning  came  again,  and  though 
the  boughs  of  the  orchard  trees  drooped  and  ran  wild  upon 
the  ground,  it  was  the  same  orchard  still.  The  grass  was 
coarse  and  high,  but  there  was  yet  the  spot  on  which  they 
had  so  often  sat  together,  when  change  and  sorrow  were  but 
names.  There  was  ever}^  walk  and  nook  which  Alice  had 
made  glad  ;  and  in  the  minster  nave  was  one  flat  stone  be- 
neath which  she  slept  in  peace. 

"  And  could  they,  remembering  how  her  young  heart  had 
sickened  at  the  thought  of  cloistered  walls,  look  upon  her 
grave,  in  garbs  which  would  chill  the  very  ashes  within  it  ? 
Could  they  bow  down  in  prayer,  and  when  all  Heaven  turned 
to  hear  them,  bring  the  dark  shade  of  sadness  on  one  angel's 
face  ?     No. 

"  They  sent  abroad,  to  artists  of  great  celebrity  in  those 
times,  and  having  obtained  the  church's  sanction  to  their  work 
of  piety,  caused  to  be  executed,  in  five  large  compartments  of 
richly  stained  glass,  a  faithful  copy  of  their  old  embroidery 
work.  These  were  fitted  into  a  large  window  until  that  time 
bare  of  ornament ;  and  when  the  sun  shone  brightly,  as  she 
had  so  well  loved  to  see  it,  the  familiar  patterns  were  reflected 
in  their  original  colors,  and  throwing  a  stream  of  brilliant 
light  upon  the  pavement,  fell  warmly  on  the  name  of  SlUcc. 

"  For  many  hours  in  every  day,  the  sisters  paced  slowly 
up  and  down  the  nave,  or  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  flat  broad 


7° 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


Stone.  Only  three  were  seen  in  the  customary  place,  after 
many  years  ;  then  but  two,  and,  for  a  long  time  afterwards, 
but  one  solitary  female  bent  with  age.  At  length  she  came 
no  more,  and  the  stone  bore  five  plain  Christian  names. 

"  That  stone  has  worn  away  and  been  replaced  by  others, 
and  many  generations  have  come  and  gone  since  then.  Time 
has  softened  down  the  colors,  but  the  same  stream  of  light 
still  falls  upon  the  forgotten  tomb,  of  which  no  trace  remains  j 
and,  to  this  day,  the  stranger  is  shown  in  York  cathedral,  an 
old  window  called  the  Five  Sisters." 


"  That's  a  melancholy  tale,"  said  the  merry-faced  gentle- 
man, emptying  his  glass. 

"  It  is  a  tale  of  life,  and  life  is  made  up  of  such  sorrows," 
returned  the  other,  courteously,  but  in  a  grave  and  sad  tone 
of  voice. 

"  There  are  shades  in  all  good  pictures,  but  there  are  lights 
too,  if  we  choose  to  contemplate  them,"  said  the  gentleman 
with  the  merry  face.  "  The  youngest  sister  in  your  tale  was 
always  light-hearted." 

"  And  died  early,"  said  the  other  gently. 

"  She  would  have  died  earlier,  perhaps,  had  she  been  less 
happy,"  said  the  first  speaker,  with  much  feeling.  "  Do  you 
think  the  sisters  who  loved  her  so  well,  would  have  grieved 
the  less  if  her  life  had  been  one  of  gloom  and  sadness  .''  If  any- 
thing could  soothe  the  first  sharp  pain  of  a  heavy  loss,  it  would 
be — with  me — the  reflection,  that  those  I  mourned,  by  being 
innocently  happy  here,  and  loving  all  about  them,  had  pre- 
pared themselves  for  a  purer  and  happier  world.  The  sun 
does  not  shine  upon  this  fair  earth  to  meet  frowning  eyes,  de- 
pend upon  it." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,"  said  the  gentleman  who  had 
told  the  story. 

"  Believe  !  "  retorted  the  other,  "  can  anybody  doubt  it  ? 
Take  any  subject  of  sorrowful  regret,  and  see  with  how  much 
pleasure  it  is  associated.     The   recollection  of  past  pleasure 

may  become  pain " 

r-— It  does,"  interposed  the  other. 

/"Well;  it  does.  To  remember  happiness  which  cannot 
be"fesfored,  is  pain,  but  of  a  softened  kind.  Our  recollec- 
tions are  unfortunately  mingled  with  ihuch  that  we  deplore, 
and  with  many  actions  which  we  bitterly  repent ;  still  in  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  71 

most  chequered   life  I  firmly  think  there   are  so  many  little 
rays  of    sunshine  to   look  back  upon,  that  I  do  not   believe , 
any  mortal  (unless  he  had  put   himself  without   the  pale  of 
hope)  would  deliberately  drain  a  goblet  of  the  waters  of  Lethe, 
if  he  had  it  in  his  power." 

"  Possibly  you  are  correct  in  that  belief,"  said  the  gray- 
haired  aentleman  after  a  short  reflection.  "  I  am  inclined  to 
think  you  are." 

"Why,  then,"  replied  the  other,  "the  good  in  this  state  of 
existence  preponderates  over  the  bad,  let  miscalled  philoso- 
phers tell  us  what  they  will.  If  our  affections  be  tried,  our 
affections  are  our  consolation  and  comfort ;  and  memory, 
however  sad,  is  the  best  and  purest  link  between  this  world 
and  a  better.     But  come  !  I'll  tell  you  a  story  of  another  kind." 

After  a  very  brief  silence,  the  merry-faced  gentleman  sent 
round  the  punch,  and  glancing  slily  at  the  fastidious  lady,  who 
seemed  desperately  apprehensive  that  he  was  going  to  relate 
sometliing  improper,  began 

THE  BARON  OF  GROGZWIG. 

"  The  Baron  Von  Koeldwethout,  of  Grogzwig  in  Germany, 
was  as  likely  a  young  baron  as  you  would  wish  to  see.  I 
needn't  say  that  he  lived  in  a  castle,  because  that's  of  course  ; 
neither  need  I  say  that  he  lived  in  an  old  castle  ;  for  what 
German  baron  ever  lived  in  a  new  one  t  There  were  many 
strange  circumstances  connected  with  this  venerable  building, 
among  which,  not  the  least  startling  and  mysterious  were, 
that  when  the  wind  blew,  it  rumbled  in  the  chimneys,  or  even 
howled  among  the  trees  in  the  neighboring  forest ;  and  that 
when  the  moon  shone,  she  found  her  way  through  certain  small 
loopholes  in  the  wall,  and  actually  made  some  parts  of  the 
wide  halls  and  galleries  quite  light,  while  she  left  others  in 
gloomy  shadow.  I  believe  that  one  of  the  baron's  ancestors, 
being  short  of  money,  had  inserted  a  dagger  in  a  gentleman 
who  called  one  night  to  ask  his  way,  and  it  was  supposed  that 
these  miraculous  occurrences  took  place  in  consequence. 
And  yet  I  hardly  know  how  that  could  have  been,  either,  be- 
cause the  baron's  ancestor,  who  was  an  amiable  man,  felt  very 
sorry  afterwards  for  having  been  so  rash,  and  laying  violent 
hands  upon  a  quantity  of  stone  and  timber  which  belonged  to 
a  weaker  baron,  built  a  chapel  as  an  apology,  and  so  took  a 
receipt  from  Heaven,  in  full  of  all  demands. 


^2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Talking  of  the  baron's  ancestor  puts  me  ni  mind  of  the 
baron's  great  claims  to  respect,  on  the  score  of  lais  pedigree, 
I  am  afraid  to  say,  I  am  sure,  how  many  ancestors  the  baron 
had  ;  but  I  know  that  he  had  a  great  many  more  than  any 
other  man  of  his  time  ;  and  I  only  wished  that  he  had  hved 
in  these  latter  days,  that  he  might  have  had  more.  It  is  a 
very  hard  thing  upon  the  great  men  of  the  past  centuries,  that 
they  should  have  come  into  the  world  so  soon,  because  a  man 
who  was  born  three  or  four  hundred  years  ago,  cannot  reason- 
ably be  expected  to  have  had  as  many  relations  before  him, 
as  a  man  who  is  born  now.  The  last  man,  whoever  he  is — 
and  he  may  be  a  cobbler  or  some  low  vulgar  dog  for  aught  we 
ki-iow — will  have  a  longer  pedigree  than  the  greatest  nobleman 
now  alive  ]  and  I  contend  that  this  is  not  fair. 

"  Well,  but  the  Baron  Von  Koeldwethout  of  Grogzwig  1 
He  was  a  fine  swarthy  fellow,  with  dark  hair  and  large  mous- 
tachios,  who  rode  a-hunting  in  clothes  of  Lincoln  green,  with 
russet  boots  on  his  feet,  and  a  bugle  slung  over  his  shoulder, 
like  the  guard  of  a. long  stage.  When  he  blew  this  bugle,  four- 
and-twenty  other  gentlemen  of  inferior  rank,  in  Lincoln  green  a 
little  coarser,  and  russet  boots  with  a  little  thicker  soles,  turned 
out  directly ;  and  away  galloped  the  whole  train  with  spears 
in  their  hands  like  lackered  area  railings,  to  hunt  down  the 
boars,  or  perhaps  encounter  a  bear :  in  which  latter  case  the 
baron  killed  him  first,  and  greased  his  whiskers  with  him  after- 
wards. 

"  This  was  a  merry  life  for  the  Baron  of  Grogzwig,  and  a 
merrier  still  for  the  baron's  retainers,  who  drank  Rhine  wine 
every  night  till  they  fell  under  the  table,  and  then  had  the 
bottles  on  the  floor,  and  called  for  pipes.  Never  were  ^  such 
jolly,  roystering,  rollicking,  merry-making  blades,  as  the  jovial 
crew  of  Grogzwig. 

"  But  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  or  the  pleasures  of  under 
the  table,  require  a  little  variety  ;  especially  when  the  same 
live-and-twenty  people  sit  daily  down  to  the  same  board,  to 
discuss  the  same  subjects,  and  tell  the  same  stories.  The 
baron  grew  weary,  and  wanted  excitement.  He  took  to  quar- 
relling with  his  gentlemen,  and  tried  kicking  two  or  three  of 
them  every  day  after  dinner.  This  was  a  pleasant  change  at 
first ;  but  it  became  monotonous  after  a  week  or  so,  and  the 
baron  felt  quite  out  of  sorts,  and  cast  about,  in  despair,  for 
some  new  amusement. 

"  One  night,  after  a  day's  sport  in  which  he  had  outdone 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  j-^ 

Nimrod  or  Gillingwater,  and  slaughtered  '  another  fine  bear,' 
and  brought  him  home  in  triumph,  the  Baron  Von  Koeldwe- 
thout  sat  moodily  at  the  head  of  his  table,  eyeing  the  smoky 
roof  of  the  hall  with  a  discontented  aspect.  He  swallowed 
huge  bumpers  of  wine,  but  the  more  he  swallowed,  the  more 
he  frowned.  The  gentlemen  who  had  been  honored  with  the 
dangerous  distinction  of  sitting  on  his  right  and  left,  imitated 
him  to  a  miracle   in  the   drinking,  and  frowned  at  each  other 

"  '  I  will  ! '  cried  the  baron  suddenly,  smiting  the  table  with 
his  right  hand,  and  twirling  his  moustache  with  his  left.  '  Fill 
to  the  Lady  of  Grogzwig  ! ' 

"The  four-and-twenty  Lincoln  greens  turned  pale,  with 
the  exception  of  their  four-and-twenty  noses,  which  were  un- 
changeable. 

" '  I  said  to  the  Lady  of  Grogzwig,'  repeated  the  baron, 
looking  round  the  board. 

"  '  To  the  Lady  of  Grogzwig ! '  shouted  the  Lincoln  greens  ; 
and  down  their  four-and-twenty  throats  went  four-and-twenty 
imperial  pints  of  such  rare  old  hock,  that  they  smacked  their 
eight-and-forty  lips,  and  winked  again. 

" '  The  fair  daughter  of  the  Baron  Von  Swillenhausen,' 
said  Koeldwethout,  condescending  to  explain.  '  We  will  de- 
mand her  in  marriage  of  her  father,  ere  the  sun  goes  down  to- 
morrow.    If  he  refuse  our  suit,  we  will  cut  off  his  nose.' 

"  A  hoarse  murmur  arose  from  the  company  ;  every  man 
touched,  first  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and  then  the  tip  of  his  nose, 
with  appalling  significance. 

''  What  a  pleasant  thing  filial  piety  is,  to  contemplate  !  If 
the  daughter  of  the  Baron  Von  Swillenhausen  had  pleaded  a 
pre-occupied  heart,  or  fallen  at  her  father's  feet  and  corned 
them  in  salt  tears,  or  only  fainted  away,  and  complimented  the 
old  gentleman  in  frantic  ejaculations,  the  odds  are  a  hundred 
to  one,  but  Swillenhausen  castle  would  have  been  turned  out 
at  window,  or  rather  the  baron  turned  out  at  window,  and  the 
castle  demolished.  The  damsel  held  her  peace,  howe\er, 
when  an  early  messenger  bore  the  request  of  Von  Koeldwe- 
thout next  morning,  and  modestly  retired  to  her  chamber,  from 
the  casement  of  which  she  watched  the  coming  of  the  suitor 
and  his  retinue.  She  was  no  sooner  assured  that  the  horse- 
man with  the  large  moustachios  was  her  proffered  husband, 
than  she  hastened  to  her  father's  presence,  and  expressed  her 
readiness  to  sacrifice  herself  to  secure  his  peace.  The  vener- 
able baron  caught  his  child  to  his  arms  and  shed  a  wink  of  joy. 


j^  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  There  was  great  feasting  at  the  castle,  that  clay.  The 
four-and-twenty  Lincoln  greens  of  Von  Koeldwethout  ex- 
changed vows  of  eternal  friendship  with  twelve  Lincoln  greens 
of  Von  Swillenhausen,  and  promised  the  old  baron  that  they 
would  drink  his  wine  'Till  all  was  blue' — meaning  probably 
until  their  whole  countenances  had  acquired  the  same  tint  as 
their  noses.  Everybody  slapped  everybody  else's  back,  when 
the  time  for  parting  came  ;  and  the  Baron  Von  Koeldwethout 
and  his  followers  rode  gayly  home. 

"  For  six  mortal  weeks,  the  bears  and  boars  had  a  holiday. 
The  houses  of  Koeldwethout  and  Swillenhausen  were  united  ; 
the  spears  rusted  ;  and  the  baron's  bugle  grew  hoarse  for 
lack  of  blowing. 

"  Those  were  great  times  for  the  four-and-twenty ;  but, 
alas  !  their  high  and  palmy  days  had  taken  boots  to  them- 
selves, and  were  already  walking  off. 

"  '  My  dear,'  said  the  baroness. 

"  '  My  love,'  said  the  baron. 

"  '  Those  coarse,  noisy  men •' 

"'Which,  ma'am  .?  "  said  the  baron  starting. 

"  The  baroness  pointed,  from  the  window  at  which  they 
stood,  to  the  court-yard  beneath,  where  the  unconscious  Lin- 
coln greens  were  taking  a  copious  stirrup-cup,  preparatory  to 
issuinof  forth  after  a  boar  or  two. 

"  '  My  hunting  train,  ma'am,'  said  the  baron. 

" '  Disband  them,  love,'  murmured  the  baroness. 

"  '  Disband  them  ! '  cried  the  baron,  in  amazement. 

" '  To  please  me,  love,'  replied  the  baroness. 

"  '  To  please  the  devil,  ma'am,'  answered  the  baron. 

"  Whereupon  the  baroness  uttered  a  great  cry,  and  swooned 
away  at  the  baron's  feet. 

"What  could  the  baron  do  ?  He  called  for  the  lady's  maid, 
and  roared  for  the  doctor  ;  and  then,  rushing  into  the  yard, 
kicked  the  two  Lincoln  greens  who  were  the  most  used  to  it, 

and  cursing  the  others  all  round,  bade  them  go but 

never  mind  where.  I  don't  know  the  German  for  it,  or  I 
would  put  it  delicately  that  way. 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  by  what  means  or  by  what  degrees, 
some  wives  manage  to  keep  down  some  husbands  as  they  do, 
although  I  may  have  my  private  opinion  on  the  subject,  and 
may  think  that  no  Member  of  Parliament  ought  to  be  married, 
inasmuch  as  three  married  members  out  of  every  four,  must 
vote   according  to  their  wives'   consciences  (if  there  be  such 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


75 


things),  and  not  according  to  their  own.  All  I  need  say,  just 
now,  is,  that  the  Baroness  Von  Koeldwethout  somehow  or 
other  acquired  great  control  over  the  Baron  Von  Koeldwe- 
thout, and  that,  little  by  little,  and  bit  by  bit,  and  day  by  day, 
and  year  by  year,  the  baron  got  the  worst  of  some  disputed 
question,  or  was  slyly  unhorsed  from  some  old  hobby  ;  and 
that  by  the  time  he  was  a  fat  hearty  fellow  of  forty-eight  or 
thereabouts,  he  had  no  feasting,  no  revelr}^,  no  hunting  train, 
and  no  hunting — nothing  in  short  that  he  liked,  or  used  to 
have  ;  and  that,  although  he  was  as  fierce  as  a  lion  and  as 
bold  as  brass,  he  was  decidedly  snubbed  and  put  down,  by  his 
own  lady,  in  his  own  castle  of  Grogzwig. 

"  Nor  was  this  the  whole  extent  of  the  baron's  misfortunes. 
About  a  year  after  his  nuptials,  there  came  into  the  world  a 
lusty  young  baron,  in  whose  honor  a  great  many  fireworks 
were  let  off,  and  a  great  many  dozens  of  wine  drunk ;  but 
next  year  there  came  a  young  baroness,  and  next  year  another 
)^oung  baron,  and  so  on,  every  year,  either  a  baron  or  bar- 
oness (and  one  year  both  together),  until  the  baron  found  him- 
self the  father  of  a  small  family  of  twelve.  Upon  every  one  of 
these  anniversaries,  the  venerable  Baroness  Von  Swillenhausen 
was  nervously  sensitive  for  the  well-being  of  her  child,  the 
Baroness  Von  Koeldwethout ;  and  although  it  was  not  found 
that  the  good  lady  ever  did  anything  material  towards  contrib- 
uting to  her  child's  recovery,  still  she  made  it  a  point  of  duty 
to  be  as  nervous  as  possible  at  the  castle  at  Grogzwig,  and  to 
divide  her  time  between  moral  observations  on  the  baron's 
housekeeping,  and  bewailing  the  hard  lot  of  her  unhappy 
daughter.  And  if  the  Baron  of  Grogzwig,  a  little  hurt  and 
irritated  at  this,  took  heart,  and  ventured  to  suggest  that  his 
was  at  least  no  worse  off  than  the  wives  of  other  barons,  the 
Baroness  Von  Swillenhausen  begged  all  persons  to  take  no- 
tice, that  nobody  but  she  sympathized  with  her  dear  daugh- 
ter's sufferings  ;  upon  which,  her  relations  and  friends  re- 
marked, that  to  be  sure  she  did  cry  a  great  deal  more  than  her 
son-in-law,  and  that  if  there  were  a  hard-hearted  brute  alive, 
it  was  that  Baron  of  Grogzwig. 

"  The  poor  baron  bore  it  all,  as  long  as  he  could,  and 
when  he  could  bear  it  no  longer  lost  his  appetite  and  his 
spirits,  and  sat  himself  gloomily  and  dejectedly  down.  But 
there  were  worse  troubles  yet  in  store  for  him,  and  as  they 
came  on,  his  melancholy  and  sadness  increased.  Times 
changed.     He  got  into  debt.     The  Grogzwig  coffers  ran  low, 


J 6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

though  the  Swillenhausen  family  had  looked  upon  them  as  in- 
exhaustible ;  and  just  when  the  baroness  was  on  the  point  of 
making  a  thirteenth  addition  to  the  family  pedigree,  Von 
Koeldwethout  discovered  that  he  had  no  means  of  replenish- 
ing them. 

"  '  I  don't  see  what  is  to  be  done,'  said  the  baron.  '  I 
think  I'll  kill  myself.' 

"  This  was  a  bright  idea.  The  baron  took  an  old  hunting- 
knife  from  a  cupboard  hard  by,  and  having  sharpened  it  on 
his  boot,  made  what  boys  call  '  an  offer  '  at  his  throat. 

"  '  Hem  ! '  said  the  baron,  stopping  short.  '  Perhaps  it's 
not  sliarp  enough.' 

"  The  baron  sharpened  it  again,  and  made  another  offer, 
when  his  hand  was  arrested  by  a  loud  screaming  among  the 
young  barons  and  baronesses,  who  had  a  nursery  in  an  up 
stairs  tower  with  iron  bars  outside  the  window,  to  prevent 
their  tumbling  out  into  the  moat. 

" '  If  I  had  been  a  bachelor,'  said  the  baron  sighing,  '  I 
might  have  done  it  fifty  times  over,  without  being  interrupted. 
Hallo  !  Put  a  flask  of  wine  and  the  largest  pipe,  in  the  little 
vaulted  room  behind  the  hall.' 

"  One  of  the  domestics,  in  a  very  kind  manner,  executed 
the  baron's  order  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  or  so,  and  Von 
Koeldwethout  being  apprised  thereof,  strode  to  the  vaulted 
room,  the  walls  of  which,  being  of  dark  shining  wood,  gleamed 
in  the  light  of  the  blazing  logs  which  were  piled  upon  the 
hearth.  The  bottle  and  pipe  were  ready,  and,  upon  the  whole, 
the  place  looked  very  comfortable. 

"  'Leave  the  lamp,'  said  the  baron. 

"  '  Anything  else,  my  lord  ?  '  inquired  the  domestic. 

" 'The  room,' replied  the  baron.  The  domestic  obeyed, 
and  the  baron  locked  the  door. 

"  '  Til  smoke  a  last  pipe,'  said  the  baron,  '  and  then  I'll  be 
off.'  So,  putting  the  knife  upon  the  table  till  he  wanted  it, 
and  tossing  off  a  goodly  measure  of  wine,  the  Lord  of  Grogz- 
wig  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  stretched  his  legs  out 
before  the  fire,  and  puffed  away. 

"  He  thought  about  a  great  many  things — about  his  pres- 
ent troubles  and  past  days  of  bachelorship,  and  about  the  Lin- 
coln greens,  long  since  dispersed  up  and  down  the  country, 
no  one  knew  whither :  with  the  exception  of  two  who  had 
been  unfortunately  beheaded,  and  four  who  had  killed  them- 
selves with  drinking.     His  mind  was  running  upon  bears  and 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  77 

boars,  when,  in  the  process  of  draining  his  glass  to  the  bot- 
tom, he  raised  his  eyes,  and  saw,  for  the  first  time  and  with 
unbounded  astonishment,  that  he  was  not  alone. 

"  No,  he  was  not ;  for,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire, 
there  sat  with  folded  arms  a  wrinkled  hideous  figure,  with 
deeply  sunk  and  bloodshot  eyes,  and  an  immensely  long  cadav- 
erous face,  shadowed  by  jagged  and  matted  locks  of  coarse 
black  hair.  He  wore  a  kind  of  tunic  of  a  dull  bluish  color, 
which,  the  baron  observed,  on  regarding  it  attentively,  was 
clasped  or  ornamented  down  the  front  with  coffin  handles. 
His  legs,  too,  were  encased  in  coffin  plates  as  though  in  arm- 
or ;  and  over  his  left  shoulder  he  wore  a  short  dusky  cloak, 
which  seemed  made  of  a  remnant  of  some  pall.  He  took  no 
notice  of  the  baron,  but  was  intently  eyeing  the  fire. 

" '  Halloa ! '  said  the  baron,  stamping  his  foot  to  attract 
attention. 

*' '  Halloa  !  '  replied  the  stranger,  moving  his  eyes  towards 
the  baron,  but  not  his  face  or  himself.   '  What  now  ? ' 

"  '  What  now  !  '  replied  the  baron,  nothing  daunted  by  his 
hollow  voice  and  lustreless  eyes,  '  /  should  ask  that  question. 
How  did  you  get  here  ? ' 

"  '  Through  the  door,'  replied  the  figure 

"  '  What  are  you  .'' '  says  the  baron. 

"  'A  man,'  replied  the  figure. 

"'  I  don't  believe  it,'  says  the  baron, 

"'Disbelieve  it  then,"  says  the  figure. 

*' '  I  will,'  rejoined  the  baron. 

"  The  figure  looked  at  the  bold  Baron  of  Grogzwig  for 
some  time,  and  then  said  familiarly, 

"  '  There's  no  coming  over  you,  I  see.     I'm  not  a  man  ! ' 

"  '  What  are  you  then  ? '  asked  the  baron. 

"  '  A  genius,'  replied  the  figure. 

*' '  You  don't  look  much  like  one,'  returned  the  baron. 

"  '  I  am  the  Genius  of  Despair  and  Suicide,'  said  the  ap- 
parition.    '  Now  you  know  me.' 

'"  With  these  words  the  apparition  turned  towards  the  baron, 
as  if  composing  himself  for  a  talk — and,  what  was  very  remark- 
able, was,  that  he  threw  his  cloak  aside,  and  displaying  a 
stake,  which  was  run  through  the  centre  of  his  body,  pulled  it 
out  with  a  jerk,  and  laid  it  on  the  table,  as  composedly  as  if 
it  had  been  a  walking-stick. 

"  '  Now,'  said  the  figure,  glancing  at  the  hunting-knife, 
*  are  you  ready  for  me  ? ' 


^8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  '  Not  quite,'  rejoined  the  baron  ;  '  I  must  finish  this  pipe 
first.' 

"  '  Look  sharp  then,'  said  the  figure. 

"'You  seem  in  a  hurry,'  said  the  baron. 

"  'Why,  yes,  I  am,'  answered  the  figure  ;  'they're  doing  a 
pretty  brisk  business  in  my  way,  over  in  England  and  France 
just  now,  and  my  time  is  a  good  deal  taken  up.' 

"  '  Do  you  drink  ?  '  said  the  baron,  touching  the  bottle  with 
the  bowl  of  his  pipe. 

"  '  Nine  times  out  of  ten,  and  then  very  hard,'  rejoined  the 
figure,  drily. 

'• '  Never  in  moderation  ? '  asked  the  baron. 

"  '  Never,'  repUed  the  figure,  with  a  shudder,  '  that  breeds 
cheerfulness.' 

"  The  baron  took  another  look  at  his  new  friend,  whom  he 
thought  an  uncommonly  queer  customer,  and  at  length  in- 
quired whether  he  took  any  active  part  in  such  little  pro- 
ceedings as  that  which  he  had  in  contemplation. 

"  '  No,'  replied  the  figure  evasively  ;  '  but  I  am  always 
present.' 

"  '  Just  to  see  fair,  I  suppose  ? '  said  the  baron. 

"  'Just  that,'  replied  the  figure,  playing  with  the  stake,  and 
examining  the  ferule. 

" '  Be  as  quick  as  you  can,  will  you,  for  there's  a  young 
gentleman  who  is  afflicted  with  too  much  money  and  leisure 
wanting  me  now,  I  find.' 

"  '  Going  to  kill  himself  because  he  has  too  much  money  !  ' 
exclaimed  the  baron,  quite  tickled  ;  '  Ha  !  ha  !  that's  a  good 
one.'  (This  was  the  first  time  the  baron  had  laughed  for 
many  a  long  day.) 

"'I  say,'  expostulated  the  figure,  looking  very  much 
scared  ;  '  don't  do  that  again.' 

"  '  Why  not .'' '  demanded  the  baron. 

"  '  Because  it  gives  me  pain  all  over,'  replied  the  figure. 
'  Sigh  as  much  as  you  please  ;  that  does  me  good.' 

"  The  baron  sighed  mechanically,  at  the  mention  of  the 
word ;  the  figure,  brightening  up  again,  handed  him  the  hunt- 
ing-knife with  the  most  winning  politeness. 

"  '  It's  not  a  bad  idea  though,'  said  the  baron,  feeling  the 
edge  of  the  weapon  ;  '  a  man  killing  himself  because  he  has 
too  much  money.' 

"  '  Pooh  ! '  said  the  apparition,  petulantly,  '  no  better  than 
a  man's  killing  himself  because  he  has  none  or  little." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


79 


"  Whether  the  genius  unintentionally  committed  himself  in 
saying  this,  or  whether  he  thought  the  baron's  mind  was  so 
thoroughly  made  up  that  it  didn't  matter  what  he  said,  I  have 
no  means  of  knowing.  I  only  know  that  the  baron  stopped 
his  hand,  all  of  a  sudden,  opened  his  eyes  wide,  and  looked  as 
if  quite  a  new  light  had  come  upon  him  for  the  first  time. 

"  '  Why,  certainly,'  said  Von  Koeldwethout,  '  nothing  is 
too  bad  to  be  retrieved.' 

"  '  Except  empty  coffers,'  cried  the  genius. 

"'Well;  but  they  may  be  one  day  filled  again,' said  the 
baron. 

"  '  Scolding  wives,'  snarled  the  genius. 

"  '  Oh  !     They  may  be  made  quiet,'  said  the  baron. 

"  '  Thirteen  children,'  shouted  the  genius. 

"  '  Can't  all  go  wrong,  surely,'  said  the  baron. 

"  The  genius  was  evidently  growing  very  savage  with  the 
baron,  for  holding  these  opmions  all  at  once ;  but  he  tried  to 
laugh  it  off,  and  said  if  he  would  let  him  know  when  he  had 
left  off  joking,  he  should  feel  obliged  to  him. 

"  '  But  I  am  not  joking  ;  I  was  never  farther  from  it,' 
remonstrated  the  baron. 

" '  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that,'  said  the  genius,  looking 
very  grim,  'because  a  joke,  without  any  figure  of  speech,  is 
the  death  of  me.     Come  !     Quit  this  dreary  world  at  once.' 

"  '  I  don't  know,'  said  the  baron,  playing  with  the  knife  ; 
'  it's  a  dreary  one  certainly,  but  I  don't  think  yours  is  much 
better,  for  you  have  not  the  appearance  of  being  particularly 
comfortable.  That  puts  me  in  mind — what  security  have  1, 
that  I  shall  be  any  the  better  for  going  out  of  the  world  after 
all !  '  he  cried,  starting  up  ;  'I  never  thought  of  that.' 

"  '  Dispatch,'  cried  the  figure,  gnashing  its  teeth. 

"  '  Keep  off  !  '  said  the  baron.  '  I'll  brood  over  miseries 
no  longer,  but  put  a  good  face  on  the  matter  and  try  the  fresh 
air  and  the  bears  again  ;  and  if  that  don't  do,  I'll  talk  to  the 
baroness  soundly,  and  cut  the  Von  Swillenhausens  dead.' 
With  this  the  baron  fell  into  his  chair,  and  laughed  so  loud 
and  boisterously,  that  the  room  rang  with  it. 

"  The  figure  fell  back  a  pace  or  two,  regarding  the  baron 
meanwhile  with  a  look  of  intense  terror,  and  when  he  had 
ceased,  caught  up  the  stake,  plunged  it  violently  into  its  body, 
•  uttered  a  frightful  howl,  and  disappeared. 

"  Von  Koeldwethout  never  saw  it  again.  Having  once 
made  up  his  mind  to  action,  he  soon  brought  the  baroness 


3o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

and  the  Von  Swillenhausens  to  reason,  and  died  many  years 
afterwards  :  not  a  rich  man  that  I  am  aware  of,  but  certainly 
a  happy  one  :  leaving  behind  him  a  numerous  family,  who  had 
been  carefully  educated  in  bear  and  boar-hunting  under  his 
own  personal  eye.  And  my  advice  to  all  men  is,  that  if  ever 
they  become  hipped  and  melancholy  from  similar  causes  (as 
very  many  men  do),  they  look  at  both  sides  of  the  question, 
applying  a  magnifying  glass  to  the  best  one  •  and  if  they  still 
feel  tempted  to  retire  without  leave,  that  they  smoke  a  large 
pipe  and  drink  a  full  bottle  first,  and  profit  by  the  laudable 
example  of  the  Baron  of  Grogzwig." 

"  The  fresh  coach  is  ready,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  if  you 
please,"  said  a  new  driver,  looking  in. 

This  intelligence  caused  the  punch  to  be  finished  in  a  great 
hurry,  and  prevented  any  discussion  relative  to  the  last  story. 
Mr.  Squeers  was  observed  to  draw  the  gray-headed  gentle- 
man on  one  side,  and  to  ask  a  question  with  great  apparent 
interest ;  it  bore  reference  to  the  Five  Sisters  of  York,  and 
was,  in  fact,  an  inquiry  whether  he  could  inform  him  how 
much  per  annum  the  Yorkshire  convents  got  in  those  days 
with  their  boarders. 

The  journey  was  then  resumed.  Nicholas  fell  asleep 
towards  morning,  and,  when  he  awoke,  found,  with  great 
regret,  that,  during  his  nap,  both  the  Baron  of  Grogzwig  and 
the  gray-haired  gentleman  had  got  down  and  were  gone.  The 
day  dragged  on  uncomfortably  enough.  At  about  six  o'clock 
that  night,  he  and  Mr.  Squeers,  and  the  little  boys,  and  their 
united  luggage,  were  all  put  down  together  at  the  George  and 
New  Inn,  Greta  Bridge. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MR.    AND    MRS.    SQUEERS   AT   HOME. 

Mr.  Squeers,  being  safely  landed,  left  Nicholas  and  the 
boys  standing  with  the  luggage  in  the  road,  to  amuse  them- 
selves by  looking  at  the  coach  as  it  changed  horses,  while  he 
ran  into  the  tavern  and  went  through  the  leg-stretching  pro- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  8 1 

cess  at  the  bar.  After  some  minutes,  he  returned,  with  his 
legs  thoroughly  stretched,  if  the  hue  of  his  nose  and  a  short 
hiccup  afforded  any  criterion  ;  and  at  the  same  time  there 
came  out  of  the  yard  a  rusty  pony-chaise,  and  a  cart,  driven 
by  two  laboring  men. 

"  Put  the  boys  and  the  boxes  into  the  cart,"  said  Squeers, 
rubbing  his  hands  ;  "  and  this  young  man  and  me  will  go  on 
in  the  chaise.     Get  in,  Nickleby." 

Nicholas  obeyed.  Mr.  Squeers  with  some  difficulty  in- 
ducing the  pony  to  obey  also,  they  started  off,  leaving  the 
cart-load  of  infant  misery  to  follow  at  leisure. 

"  Are  you  cold,  Nickleby  ?  "  inquired  Squeers,  after  they 
had  travelled  some  distance  in  silence. 

"  Rather,  sir,  I  must  say." 

"Well,  I  don't  find  fault  with  that,"  said  Squeers  ;  "  it's  a 
long  journey  this  weather." 

"  Is  it  much  farther  to  Dothebovs  Hall,  sir  ? "  asked 
Nicholas. 

"  About  three  mile  from  here,"  replied  Squeers.  "  But 
you  needn't  call  it  a  Hall  down  here." 

Nicholas  coughed,  as  if  he  would  like  to  know  why. 

"The  fact  is,  it  ain't  a  Hall,"  observed  Squeers  drily. 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  said  Nicholas,  whom  this  piece  of  intelli- 
gence much  astonished. 

"  No,"  replied  Squeers.  "  We  call  it  a  Hall  up  in  London, 
because  it  sounds  better,  but  they  don't  know  it  by  that  name 
in  these  parts.  A  man  may  call  his  house  an  island  if  he 
likes  ;  there's  no  act  of  Parliament  against  that,  I  believe  }  " 

"I  believe  not,  sir,"  rejoined  Nicholas. 

Squeers  eyed  his  companion  slily,  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
little  dialogue,  and  finding  that  he  had  grown  thoughtful  and 
appeared  in  nowise  disposed  to  volunteer  any  obser\-ations, 
contented  himself  with  lashing  the  pony  until  they  reached 
their  journey's  end. 

"  Jump  out,"  said  Squeers.  "  "  Hallo  there  !  come  and  put 
this  horse  up.     Be  quick,  will  you  !  " 

While  the  schoolmaster  was  uttering  these  and  other  im- 
patient cries,  Nicholas  had  time  to  observe  that  the  school 
was  a  long,  cold-looking  house,  one  story  high,  with  a  few 
straggling  outbuildings  behind,  and  a  barn  and  stable  adjoin- 
ing. After  the  lapse  of  a  minute  or  two,  the  noise  of  some- 
body unlocking  the  yard-gate  was  heard,  and  presently  a  tall 
lean  boy,  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  issued  forth. 

6 


82  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Is  that  you,  Smike  ?  "  cried  Squeers. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  Then  why  the  devil  didn't  you  come  before  ?  " 

"  Please,  sir,  I  fell  asleep  over  the  lire,"  answered  Smike, 
with  humility. 

"  Fire  !  what  fire  ?  Where's  there  a  fire  ?  "  demanded 
the  schoolmaster,  sharply. 

"  Only  in  the  kitchen,  sir,"  replied  the  boy.  "  Missus 
said  as  I  was  sitting  up,  I  might  go  in  there  for  a  warm." 

"  Your  Missus  is  a  fool,"  retorted  Squeers.  "  You'd  have 
been  a  deuced  deal  more  wakeful  in  the  cold,  I'll  engage." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Squeers  had  dismounted;  and  after 
ordering  the  boy  to  see  to  the  pony,  and  to  take  care  that  he 
hadn't  any  more  corn  that  night,  he  told  Nicholas  to  wait  at 
the  front  door  a  minute  while  he  went  round  and  let  him  in. 

A  host  of  unpleasant  misgivings,  which  had  been  crowd- 
ing upon  Nicholas  during  the  whole  journey,  thronged  into 
his  mind  with  redoubled  force  when  he  was  left  alone.  His 
great  distance  from  home  and  the  impossibility  of  reaching  it, 
except  on  foot,  should  he  feel  ever  so  anxious  to  return,  pre- 
sented itself  to  him  in  most  alarming  colors  ;  and  as  he  looked 
up  at  the  dreary  house  and  dark  windows,  and  upon  the  wild 
country  round,  covered  with  snow,  he  felt  a  depression  of 
heart  and  spirit  which  he  never  had  experienced  before. 

"  Now  then  !  "  cried  Squeers,  poking  his  head  out  at  the 
front  door.     "  Where  are  you,  Nickleby  ?  " 

"  Here,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"Come  in,  then,"  said  Squeers,  "  the  wind  blows  in,  at 
this  door,  fit  to  knock  a  man  off  his  legs." 

Nicholas  sighed,  and  hurried  in.  Mr.  Squeers,  having  bolt- 
ed the  door  to  keep  it  shut,  ushered  him  into  a  small  parlor 
scantily  furnished  with  a  few  chairs,  a  yellow  map  hung 
against  the  wall,  and  a  couple  of  tables  ;  one  of  which  bore 
some  preparations  for  supper  ;  while,  on  the  other,  a  tutor's 
assistant,  a  Murray's  grammar,  half  a  dozen  cards  of  terms, 
and  a  worn  letter  directed  to  Wackford  Squeers,  Esquire, 
were  arranged  in  picturesque  confusion. 

They  had  not  been  in  this  apartment  a  couple  of  minutes, 
when  a  female  bounced  into  the  room,  and,  seizing  Mr. 
Squeers  by  the  throat,  gave  him  two  loud  kisses  :  one  close 
after  the  other,  like  a  postman's  knock.  The  lady,  who  was 
of  a  large  raw-boned  figure,  \vas  about  half  a  head  taller  than 
Mr.  Squeers,  and  was  dressed  in  a  dimity  night-jacket  ;  with 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  g, 

her  hair  in  papers;  she  had  also  a  dirty  nightcap  on,  relieved 
by  a  yellow  cotton  handkerchief  which 'tied  it  under  the  chin. 

"  How  is  my  Squeerj-  ?  "  said  this  lady  in  a  playful  man- 
ner, and  a  ver\^  hoarse  voice. 

"Quite  well,  my  love,"  replied  Squeers.  "How's  the 
cows } " 

"  All  right,  every  one  of  'em,"  answered  the  lady. 

"  And  the  pigs  ?  "  said  Squeers. 

"  As  well  as  they  were  when  you  went  away." 

"Come;  that's  a  blessing,"  said  Squeers,'pulling  off  his 
great-coat.     "  The  boys  are  all  as  they  were,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  they're  well  enough,"' replied  Mrs.  Squeers, 
snappishly.     "  That  young  Pitcher's  had  a  fever." 

"  No  !  "  exclaimed  Squeers.  "  Damn  that  boy,  he's  al- 
ways at  something  of  that  sort." 

"  Never  was  such  a  boy,  I  do  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers ; 
"  whatever  he  has  is  always  catching  too.  I  say  it's  obstinacy, 
and  nothing  shall  ever  convince  me  that  it  isn't.  I'd  beat  It 
out  of  him  ;  and  I  told  you  that,  six  months  ago." 

"So  you  did,  my  love,"  rejoined  Squeers.  "We'll  Xxy 
what  can  be  done." 

Pending  these  little  endearments,  Nicholas  had  stood, 
awkwardly  enough,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  not  \&xy  well 
knowing  whether  he  was  expected  to  retire  into  the  passage, 
or  to  remain  where  he  was.  He  was  now  relieved  from  his 
perplexity  by  Mr.  Squeers. 

"  This  is  the  new  young  man,  my  dear,"  said  that  gentle- 
man. 

"Oh,"  replied  Mrs.  Squeers,  nodding  her  head  at  Nicho- 
las, and  eyeing  him  coldly  from  top  to  toe.     " 

"  He'll  take  a  meal  with  us  to-night,"  said  Squeers,  "and 
go  among  the  boys  to-morrow  morning.  You  can  give  him  a 
shake  down  here,  to-night,  can't  you  ?'" 

"  We  must  manage  it  somehow,"  replied  the  lady.  "  You 
don't  much  mind  how  you  sleep,  I  suppose,  sir  ?  " 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Nicholas,  "I  am  not  particular." 

"That's  lucky,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers.  And  as  the  lady's 
humor  was  considered  to  lie  chiefly  in  retort,  Mr.  Squeers 
laughed  heartily,  and  seemed  to  expect  that  Nicholas  should 
do  the  same. 

After  some  further  conversation  between  the  master  and 
mistress  relative  to  the  success  of  Mr.  Squeers's  trip,  and  the 
people   who  had  paid,  and  the  people  who  had  made   default 


84  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

in  payment,  a  young  servant  girl  brought  in  a  Yorkshire  pie 
and  some  cold  beef,  which  being  set  upon  the  table,  the  boy 
Smike  appeared  with  a  jug  of  ale. 

Mr.  Squeers  was  emptying  his  great-coat  pockets  of  let- 
ters to  different  boys,  and  other  small  documents,  which  he 
had  brought  down  in  them.  The  boy  glanced,  with  an  anx- 
ious and  timid  expression,  at  the  papers,  as  if  with  a  sickly 
hope  that  one  among  them  might  relate  to  him.  The  look 
was  a  very  painful  one,  and  went  to  Nicholas's  heart  at  once  ; 
for  it  told  a  long  and  very  sad  history. 

It  induced  him  to  consider  the  boy  more  attentively,  and 
he  was  surprised  to  observe  the  extraordinary  mixture  of  gar- 
ments which  formed  his  dress.  Although  he  could  not  have 
been  less  than  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  old,  and  was  tall 
for  that  age,  he  wore  a  skeleton  suit,  such  as  is  usually  put 
upon  veiy  little  boys,  and  which,  though  most  absurdly  short 
in  the  arms  and  legs,  was  quite  wide  enough  for  his  atten- 
uated frame.  In  order  that  the  lower  part  of  his  legs  might 
be  in  perfect  keeping  with  this  singular  dress,  he  had  a  very 
large  pair  of  boots,  originally  made  for  tops,  which  might 
have  been  once  worn  by  some  stout  farmer,  but  were  now 
too  patched  and  tattered  for  a  beggar.  Heaven  knows  how 
long  he  had  been  there,  but  he  still  wore  the  same  linen  which 
he  had  first  taken  down ;  for,  round  his  neck  was  a  tattered 
child's  frill,  only  half  concealed  by  a  coarse,  man's  necker- 
chief. He  was  lame  ;  and  as  he  feigned  to  be  busy  in  ar- 
ranging the  table,  glanced  at  the  letters  with  a  look  so  keen, 
and  yet  so  dispirited  and  hopeless,  that  Nicholas  could  hardly 
bear  to  watch  him. 

"  What  are  you  bothering  about  there,  Smike  ?  "  cried  Mrs. 
Squeers  ;  "  let  the  things  alone,  can't  you." 

"  Eh  !  "  said  Squeers,  looking  up.     "  Oh  !  it's  you,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  youth,  pressing  his  hands  together, 
as  though  to  control,  by  force,  the  nervous  wandering  of  his 
fingers  ;  "  is  there " 


<( ' 


Well  !  "  said  Squeers. 

"  Have  you — did  anybody — has  nothing  been  heard — 
about  me  ? " 

"  Devil  a  bit,"  replied  Squeers  testily. 

The  lad  withdrew  his  eyes,  and,  putting  his  hand  to  his 
face,  moved  towards  the  door. 

"Not  a  word,"  resumed  Squeers,  "  and  never  will  be. 
Now,  this  is   a  pretty   sort  of  thing,  isn't  it,  that  you  should 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  85 

have  been  left  here,  all  these  years,  and  no  money  paid  after 
the  first  six — nor  no  notice  taken,  nor  no  clue  to  be  got  who 
you  belong  to  ?  It's  a  pretty  sort  of  thing  that  I  should  have 
to  feed  a  great  fellow  like  you,  and  never  hope  to  get  one 
penny  for  it,  isn't  it  ?  " 

The  boy  put  his  hand  to  his  head  as  if  he  were  making  an 
effort  to  recollect  something,  and  then,  looking  vacantly  at 
his  questioner,  gradually  broke  into  a  smile,  and  limped  away. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Squeers,"  remarked  his  wife  as  the 
door  closed,  "  I  think  that  young  chap's  turning  silly." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  the  schoolmaster;  "for  he's  a  handy 
fellow  out  of  doors,  and  worth  his  meat  and  drink,  anyway. 
I  should  think  he'd  have  wit  enough  for  us  though,  if  he  was. 
But  come  ;  let's  us  have  supper,  for  I  am  hungry  and  tired, 
and  want  to  get  to  bed." 

This  reminder  brought  in  an  exclusive  steak  for  Mr. 
Squeers,  who  speedily  proceeded  to  do  it  ample  justice. 
Nicholas  drew  up  his  chair,  but  his  appetite  was  effectually 
taken  away. 

"  How's  the  steak,  Squeers  1 "  said  Mrs.  S. 

"  Tender  as  a  lamb,"  replied  Squeers.     "  Have  a  bit." 

"  I  couldn't  eat  a  morsel,"  replied  his  wife.  "  What'll  the 
young  man  take,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Whatever  he  likes  that's  present,"  rejoined  Squeers,  in 
a  most  unusual  burst  of  generosity. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Knuckleboy  > "  inquired  Mrs. 
Squeers. 

"  I'll  take  a  little  of  the  pie,  if  you  please,"  replied  Nicho- 
las.    "  A  very  little,  for  I'm  not  hungry." 

"  Well,  it's  a  pity  to  cut  the  pie  if  you're  not  hungr)^,  isn't 
it?"  said  Mrs.  Squeers.     "  Will  you  try  a  bit  of  the  beef  ?  " 

"  Whatever  you  please,"  replied  Nicholas,  abstractedly  : 
"  it's  all  the  same  to  me." 

Mrs.  Squeers  looked  vastly  gracious  on  receiving  this 
reply ;  and  nodding  to  Squeers,  as  much  as  to  say  that  she 
was  glad  to  find  the  young  man  knew  his  station,  assisted 
Nicholas  to  a  slice  of  meat  with  her  own  fair  hands. 

"Ale,  Squeery  ?  "  inquired  the  lady,  winking  and  frowning 
to  give  him  to  understand  that  the  question  propounded, 
was,  whether  Nicholas  should  have  ale,  and  not  whether  he 
(Squeers)  would  take  any, 

"  Certainly,"  said  Squeers,  re-telegraphing  in  the  same 
manner.     "  A  glassful." 


86  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

So  Nicholas  had  a  glassful,  and,  being  occupied  with  his 
own  reflections,  drank  it,  in  happy  innocence  of  all  the  fore- 
gone proceedings. 

"Uncommon  juicy  steak  that,"  said  Squeers,  as  he  laid 
down  his  knife  and  fork,  after  plying  it,  in  silence,  for  some 
time. 

"  It's  prime  meat,''  rejoined  his  lady.  "  I  bought  a  good 
large  piece  of  it  myself  on  purpose  for " 

"  For  what ! "  exclaimed  Squeers  hastily.  "  Not  for 
the " 

"No,  no;  not  for  them,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Squeers;  "on 
purpose  for  you  against  you  came  home.  Lor !  you  didn't 
think  I  could  have  made  such  a  mistake  as  that." 

"Upon  my  word,  my  dear,  I  didn't  know  what  you  were 
going  to  say,"  said  Squeers,  who  had  turned  pale. 

"  You  needn't  make  vourself  uncomfortable,"  remarked 
his  wife,  laughing  heartily.  "  To  think  that  I  should  be  such 
a  noddy  !     Well  ! " 

This  part  of  the  conversation  was  rather  unintelligible  ; 
but  pojDular  rumor  in  the  neighborhood  asserted  that  Mr. 
Squeers,  being  amiably  opposed  to  cruelty  to  animals,  not 
unfrequently  purchased  for  boy  consumption  the  bodies  of 
horned  cattle  who  had  died  a  natural  death  ;  possibly  he  was 
apprehensive  of  having  unintentionally  devoured  some  choice 
morsel  intended  for  the  young  gentlemen. 

Supper  being  over,  and  removed  by  a  small  servant  girl 
with  a  hungry  eye,  Mrs.  Squeers  retired  to  lock  it  up,  and 
also  to  take  into  safe  custody  the  clothes  of  the  five  boys  who 
had  just  arrived,  and  who  were  half-way  up  the  troublesome 
flight  of  steps  which  leads  to  death's  door,  in  consequence  of 
exposure  to  the  cold.  They  were  then  regaled  with  a  light 
supper  of  porridge,  and  stowed  away,  side  by  side,  in  a  small 
bedstead,  to  warm  each  other,  and  dream  of  a  substantial 
meal  with  something  hot  after  it,  if  their  fancies  set  that  way : 
which  it  is  not  at  all  improbable  they  did. 

Mr.  Squeers  treated  himself  to  a  stifle  tumbler  of  brandy 
and  water,  made  on  the  liberal  half-and-half  principle,  allowing 
for  the  dissolution  of  the  sugar  ;  and  his  amiable  helpmate 
mixed  Nicliolas  the  ghost  of  a  small  glassful  of  the  same  com- 
pound. This  done,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Squeers  drew  close  up  to 
the  fire,  and  sitting  with  their  feet  on  the  fender,  talked  con- 
fidentially in  whispers  ;  while  Nicholas,  taking  up  the  tutor's 
assistant,  read  the  interesting  legends  in  the  miscellaneous 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  87 

questions,  and  all  the  figures  into  the  bargain,  with  as  much 
thought  or  consciousness  of  what  he  was  doing,  as  if  he  had 
been  in  a  magnetic  slumber. 

At  length,  Mr.  Squeers  yawned  fearfully,  and  opined  that 
it  was  high  time  to  go  to  bed  ;  upon  which  signal,  Mrs. 
Squeers  and  the  girl  dragged  in  a  small  straw  mattress  and 
a  couple  of  blankets,  and  arranged  them  into  a  couch  for 
Nicholas. 

"  We'll  put  you  into  your  regular  bed-rocm  to-morrow, 
Nickleby,"  said  Squeers.  ''Let  me  see!  Who  sleeps  in 
Brooks's  bed,  my  dear?  " 

"  In  Brooks's,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers,  pondering.  "  There's 
Jennings,  little  Bolder,  Graymarsh,  and  what's  his  name." 

"So  there  is,"  rejoined  Squeers.  "  Yes  !  Brooks  is  full." 
_ilFull !  "  thought  Nicholas.     "  I  should  think  he  was." 

"There's  a  place  somewhere,  I  know,"  said  Squeers; 
j"  but  I  can't  at  this  moment  call  to  mind  where  it  is.  How- 
/ever,  we'll  have  that  all  settled  to-morrow.  Gcod-i.ight, 
Nickleby.     Seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  mind." 

"I  shall  be  read}-,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas.     "Good-night." 

"  I'll  come  in  myself  and  show  you  where  the  well  is," 
said  Squeers.  "  Youll  always  find  a  little  bit  of  soap  in  the 
kitchen  window  ;  that  belongs  to  you." 

Nicholas  opened  his  eyes,  but  not  his  mouth  ;  and  Squeers 
was  again  going  away,  when  he  once  more  turned  back. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure,"  he  said,  "  whose  towel  to  put 
you  on  ;  but  if  you'll  make  shift  with  something  to-morrow 
morning,  Mrs.  Squeers  will  arrange  that,  in  the  course  of  the 
day.     My  dear,  don't  forget." 

"I'll  take  care,"  replied  Mrs.  Squeers;  "and  mind  yon 
take  care,  young  man,  and  get  first  wash.  The  teacher  ought 
always  to  have  it ;  but  thev  get  the  better  of  him  if  they  can." 

"  Mr.  Squeers  then  nudged  Mrs.  Squeers  to  bring  away 
the  brandy  bottle,  lest  Nicholas  should  help  himself  in  the 
night ;  and  the  lady  having  seized  it  with  great  precipitation, 
they  retired  together. 

Nicholas,  being  left  alone,  took  half  a  dozen  turns  up  and 
down  the  room  in  a  condition  of  much  agitation  and  excite- 
ment ;  but,  growing  gradually  calmer,  sat  himself  down  in  a 
chair,  and  mentally  resolved  that,  come  what  com^  niight,  he 
would  endeavor,  for  a  time,  to  bear  whatever  wretchedness 
might  be  in  store  for  him,  and  that  remembering  the  helpless- 
of  his  mother  and  sister,  he  would  give  his  uncle  no  plea  for 


88  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

deserting  them  in  their  need.  Good  resolutions  seldom  fail 
of  producing  some  good  effect  in  the  mind  from  which  they 
spring.  He  grew  less  desponding,  and — so  sanguine  and 
buoyant  is  youth — even  hoped  that  affairs  at  Dotheboys  Hall 
might  yet  prove  better  than  they  promised. 

He  was  preparing  for  bed,  with  something  like  renewed 
cheerfulness,  when  a  sealed  letter  fell  from  his  coat  pocket. 
In  the  hurry  of  leaving  London,  it  had  escaped  his  attention, 
and  had  not  occurred  to  him  since,  but  it  at  once  brought 
back  to  him  the  recollection  of  the  mysterious  behavior  of 
Newman  Noggs. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Nicholas  ;  "  what  an  extraordinary 
hand  ! " 

It  was  directed  to  himself,  was  written  upon  ver}^  dirty 
paper,  and  in  such  cramped  and  crippled  writing  as  to  be 
almost  illegible.  After  great  difficulty  and  much  puzzling,  he 
contrived  to  read  as  follows  : — 

"  My  dear  young  Man. 

"  I  know  the  world.  Your  father  did  not,  or 
he  would  not  have  done  me  a  kindness  when  there  was  no 
hope  of  return.  You  do  not,  or  you  would  not  be  bound  on 
such  a  journey. 

"  If  ever  you  want  a  shelter  in  London  (don't  be  angry  at 
this,  /once  thought  I  never  should),  they  know  where  I  live, 
at  the  sign  of  the  Crown,  in  Silver  Street,  Golden  Square.  It 
is  at  the  corner  of  Silver  Street  and  James  Street,  with  a  bar 
door  both  ways.  You  can  come  at  night.  Once,  nobody  was 
ashamed — never  mind  that.     It's  all  over. 

"  Excuse  errors.  I  should  forget  how  to  wear  a  whole 
coat  now.  I  have  forgotten  all  my  old  ways.  My  spelling 
may  have  gone  with  them. 

"Newman  Noggs. 

"P.S.  If  you  should  go  near  Barnard  Castle,  there  is 
good  ale  at  the  King's  Head.  Say  you  know  me,  and  I  am 
sure  they  will  not  charge  you  for  it.  You  may  say  Mr.  Noggs 
there,  for  I  was  a  gentleman  then.     I  was  indeed." 

It  may  be  a  very  undignified  circumstance  to  record,  but 
after  he  had  folded  this  letter  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket-book, 
Nicholas  Nickleby's  eyes  were  dimmed  with  a  moisture  that 
might  have  been  taken  for  tears. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  89 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF    THE    INTERNAL    ECONOMY    OF    DOTHEBOYS    HALL. 

A  RIDE  of  two  hundred  and  odd  miles  in  severe  weather, 
is  one  of  the  best  softeners  of  a  Iiard  bed  that  ingenuity  can 
devise.  Perhaps  it  is  even  a  sweetener  of  dreams,  for  those 
which  hovered  over  the  rough  couch  of  Nicholas,  and  whispered 
their  airy  nothings  in  his  ear,  were  of  an  agreeable  and  happy 
kind.  He  was  making  his  fortune  very  fast  indeed,  when  the 
faint  glimmer  of  an  expiring  candle  shone  before  his  eyes,  and 
a  voice  he  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  as  part  and  parcel 
of  Mr.  Squeers,  admonished  him  that  it  was  time  to  rise. 

"  Past  seven,  Nickleby,"  said  Mr.  Squeers. 

*'  Has  morning  come  already  .■'  "  asked  Nicholas,  sitting  up 
in  bed. 

"  Ah  !  that  has  it,"  replied  Squeers,  "  and  ready  iced  too. 
Now,  Nickleby,  come  ;  tumble  up,  will  you  ?  " 

Nicholas  needed  no  futher  admonition,  but  "  tumbled  up  " 
at  once,  and  proceeded  to  dress  himself  by  the  light  of  the 
taper,  which  Mr.  Squeers  carried  in  his  hand. 

"  Here's  a  pretty  go,"  said  that  gentleman  ;  "  the  pump's 
froze." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Nicholas,  not  much  interested  in  the  intel- 
ligence. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Squeers.  "  You  can't  wash  yourself  this 
morning." 

"  Not  wash  myself  !  "  exclaimed  Nicholas. 

"No,  not  a  bit  if  it,"  rejoined  Squeers  tartly.  "  So  you 
must  be  content  with  giving  yourself  a  dry  polish  till  we  break 
the  ice  in  the  well,  and  can  get  a  bucketful  out  for  the  boys. 
Don't  stand  staring  at  me,  but  do  look  sharp,  will  you  ? " 

Offering  no  further  observation,  Nicholas  huddled  on  his 
clothes.  Squeers,  meanwhile,  opened  the  shutters  and  blew 
the  candle  out ;  when  the  voice  of  his  amiable  consort  was 
heard  in  the  passage,  demanding  admittance. 

"  Come  in,  my  love,"  said  Squeers. 

Mrs.  Squeers  came  in,  still  habited  in  the  primitive  night- 
jacket  which  had  displayed  the  symmetry  of  her  figure  on  the 


go  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

previous  night,  and  futher  ornamented  with  a  beaver  bonnet 
of  some  antiquity,  which  she  wore  with  much  ease  and 
lightness,  on  the  top  of  the  nightcap  before  mentioned. 

"  Drat  the  things,"  said  the  lady,  opening  the  cupboard  ; 
"I  can't  find  the  school  spoon  anywhere."' 

"  Never  mind  it,  my  dear,"  observed  Squeers  in  a  soothing 
manner  ;  "  it's  of  no  consequence." 

"No  consequence,  why  how  you  talk !"  retorted  Mrs. 
Squeers  sharply  ;  "  isn't  it  brimstone  morning  ?  " 

"  I  forgot,  my  dear,"  rejoined  Squeers  ;  "yes,  it  certainly 
is.     We  purify  the  boys'  bloods  now  and  then,  Nickleby." 

"Purify  fiddlesticks'  ends,"  said  his  Indy.  "Don't  think, 
young  man,  that  we  go  to  the  expense  of  flower  of  brimstone 
and  molasses,  just  to  purify  them  ;  because  if  you  think  we 
carry  on  the  business  in  that  way,  you'll  find  yourself  mistaken, 
and  so  I  tell  you  plainly." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Squeers  frowning.     "  Hem  !  " 

"  Oh  !  nonsense,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Squeers.  "  If  the  young 
man  comes  to  be  a  teacher  here,  let  him  understand,  at  once, 
that  we  don't  want  any  foolery  about  the  boys.  They  have 
the  brimstone  and  treacle,  partly  because  if  they  hadn't  some- 
thing or  other  in  the  way  of  medicine  they'd  be  always  ailing 
and  giving  a  world  of  trouble,  and  partly  because  i-t  spoils 
their  appetites  and  comes  cheaper  than  breakfast  and  dinner. 
So,  it  does  them  good  and  us  good  at  the  same  time,  and 
that's  fair  enough,  I'm  sure." 

Having  given  this  exclamation,  Mrs.  Squeers  put  her 
hand  into  the  closet  and  instituted  a  stricter  search  after  the 
spoon,  in  which  Mr.  Squeers  assisted.  A  few  words  passed 
between  them  while  they  were  thus  engaged,  but  as  their 
voices  were  partially  stifled  by  the  cupboard,  all  that  Nicholas 
could  distinguish  was,  that  Mr.  Squeers  said  what  Mrs. 
Squeers  had  said,  was  injudicious,  and  that  Mrs.  Squeers  said 
what  Mr.  Squeers  said,  was  "  stuff." 

A  vast  deal  of  searching  and  rummaging  ensued,  and  it  prov- 
ing fruitless,  Smike  was  called  in,  and  pushed  by  Mrs.  Squeers 
and  bo.xed  by  Mr.  Squeers  ;  which  course  of  treatment  bright- 
ening his  intellects,  enabled  him  to  suggest  that  possibly 
Mrs.  Squeers  night  have  the  spoon  in  her  pocket,  as  indeed 
turned  out  to  be  the  case.  As  Mrs.  Squeers  had  previously 
protested,  however,  that  she  was  quite  certain  she  had  not  got 
it,  Smike  received  another  box  on  the  ear  for  presuming  to 
contradict  his   mistress,  together   with  a  promise  of  a  sound 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  gi 

thrashing  if  he  were  not  more  respectful  in   future  ;  so  that  he 
took  nothing  very  advantageous  by  his  motion. 

"  A  most  invaluable  woman,  that,  Nickleby,"  said  Squeers 
when  his  consort  had  hurried  away,  pushing  the  drudge  before 
her. 

"  Indeed,  sir  !  "  observed  Nicholas. 

"  I  don't  know  her  equal,"  said  Squeers  ;  "  I  do  not  know 
her  equal.  That  woman,  Nickleby,  is  always  the  same — 
always  the  same  bustling,  lively,  active,  saving  creetur  that 
you  see  her  now." 

Nicholas  sighed  involuntarily  at  the  thought  of  the  agreea- 
ble domestic  prospect  thus  opened  to  \\\\\\  ;  but  Squeers  was, 
fortunately,  too  much  occupied  with  his  own  reflections  to 
perceive  it. 

"  It's  my  way  to  say,  when  I  am  up  in  London,"  continued 
Squeers,  "  that  to  them  boys  she  is  a  mother.  But  she  is 
more  than  a  mother  to  them ;  ten  times  more.  She  does 
things  for  them  boys,  Nickleby,  that  I  don't  believe  half  the 
mothers  going,  would  do  for  their  own  sons." 

"I  should  think  they  would  not,  sir,"  answered  Nicholas. 

Now,  the  fact  was,  that  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Squeers  viewed 
the  boys  in  the  light  of  their  proper  and  natural  enemies  ;  or, 
in  other- words,  they  held  and  considered  that  their  business 
and  profession  was  to  get  as  much  from  every  boy  as  could 
by  possibility  be  screwed  out  of  him.  On  this  point  they 
were  both  agreed,  and  behaved  in  unison  accordingly.  The 
only  difference  between  them  was,  that  Mrs.  Squeers  waged 
war  against  the  enemy  openly  and  fearlessly,  and  that  Squeers 
covered  his  rascality,  even  at  home,  with  a  spice  of  his  habit- 
ual deceit ;  as  if  he  really  had  a  notion  of  some  day  or  other 
being  able  to  take  himself  in,  and  persuade  bis  own  mind  that 
he  was  a  very  good  fellow. 

"  But  come,"  said  Squeers,  interrupting  the  progress  of 
some  thoughts  to  this  effect  in  the  mind  of  his  usher,  "  let's 
go  to  the  school-room  ;  and  lend  me  a  hand  with  my  school 
coat,  will  vou  .''  " 

Nicholas  assisted  his  master  to  put  on  an  old  fustian  shoot- 
ing-jacket, which  he  took  down  from  a  peg  in  the  passage  ;  and 
Squeers,  arming  himself  with  his  cain,  led  the  way  across  a 
yard,  to  a  door  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 

"  There,"  said  the  schoolmaster  as  they  stepped  in  together  ; 
"  this  is  our  shop,  Nickleby  !  " 

It  was  such  a  crowded  scene,  and  there  were  so  many  cb- 


92 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEBY. 


jects  to  attract  attention,  that,  at  first,  Nicholas  stared  about 
him,  really  without  seeing  anything  at  all.  By  degrees,  how- 
ever, the  place  resolved  itself  into  a  bare  and  dirty  room,  with 
a  couple  of  windows,  whereof  a  tenth  part  might  be  of  glass, 
the  remainder  being  stopped  up  with  old  copybooks  and 
paper.  There  were  a  couple  of  long  old  rickety  desks,  cut 
and  notched,  and  inked,  and  damaged,  in  every  possible  way ; 
two  or  three  frames ;  a  detached  desk  for  Squeers  ;  and 
another  for  his  assistant.  The  ceiling  was  supported,  like  that 
of  a  barn,  by  cross  beams  and  rafters  ;  and  the  walls  were  so 
stained  and  discolored,  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  whether 
they  had  ever  been  touched  with  paint  or  whitewash. 

But  the  pupils — the  young  noblemen  !  How  the  last  faint 
traces  of  hope,  the  remotest  glimmering  of  any  good  to  be 
derived  from  his  efforts  in  this  den,  faded  from  the  mind  of 
Nicholas  as  he  looked  in  dismay  around  !  Pale  and  haggard 
faces,  lank  and  bony  figures,  children  with  the  countenances 
of  old  men,  deformities  with  irons  upon  their  limbs,  boys  of 
stunted  growth,  and  others  whose  long  meagre  legs  would 
hardly  bear  their  stooping  bodies,  all  crowded  on  the  view 
together  ;  there  w^ere  the  bleared  eye,  the  hare-lip,  the  crooked 
foot,  and  every  ugliness  or  distortion  that  told  of  unnatural 
aversion  conceived  by  parents  for  their  offspring,  or  of  young 
lives  which,  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  infancy,  had  been  one 
horrible  endurance  of  cruelty  and  neglect.  There  were  little 
faces  which  should  have  been  handsome,  darkened  with  the 
scowl  of  sullen,  dogged  suffering ;  there  was  childhood  with 
the  light  of  its  eye  quenched,  its  beauty  gone,  and  its  helpless- 
ness alone  remaining  ;  there  were  vicious-faced  boys,  bloom- 
ing with  leaden  eyes,  like  malefactors  in  a  jail ;  and  there 
were  young  creatures  on  whom  the  sins  of  their  frail  parents 
had  descended,  weeping  even  for  the  mercenary  nurses  they 
had  known,  and  lonesome  even  in  their  loneliness.  With 
every  kindly  sympathy  and  affection  blasted  in  its  birth,  with 
every  young  and  healthy  feelings  flogged  and  starved  down, 
with  every  revengeful  passion  that  can  fester  in  swollen  hearts, 
eating  its  evil  way  to  their  core  ni  silence,  what  an  incipient 
HelLwas  breedinir  here  ! 

And  yet  this  scene,  painful  as  it  was,  had  its  grotesque 
features,  which,  in  a  less  interested  observer  than  Nicholas, 
might  have  provoked  a  smile.  Mrs.  Squeers  stood  at  one  of 
the  desks,  presiding  over  an  immense  basin  of  brimstone  and 
treacle,  of  which  delicious  compound  she  administered  a  large 


NICHOLAS  mCKLEBY.  g, 

instalment  to  each  boy  in  succession  :  using  for  the  purpose  a 
common  wooden  spoon,  which  might  have  been  originally 
manufactured  for  some  gigantic  top,  and  which  widened  every 
young  gentleman's  mouth  considerably  :  they  being  all  obliged, 
under  heavy  corporal  penalties,  to  take  in  the  whole  of  the 
bowl  at  a  gasp.  In  another  corner,  huddled  together  for  com- 
panionship, were  the  little  boys  who  had  arrived  on  the  pre- 
ceding night,  three  of  them  in  very  large  leather  breeches,  and 
two  in  old  trousers,  a  something  tighter  fit  than  drawers  are 
usually  worn  ;  at  no  great  distance  from  these  was  seated  the 
juvenile  son  and  heir  of  Mr.  Squeers — a  striking  likeness  of 
his  father — kicking,  with  great  vigor,  under  the  hands  of 
Smike,  who  was  fatting  upon  him  a  pair  of  new  boots  that 
bore  a  most  suspicious  resemblance  to  those  which  the  least  of 
the  little  boys  had  worn  on  the  journey  down — as  the  little 
boy  himself  seemed  to  think,  for  he  was  regarding  the  appro- 
priation with  a  look  of  most  rueful  amazement.  Besides  these, 
there  was  a  long  row  of  boys  waiting,  with  countenances  of  no 
pleasant  anticipation,  to  be  treacled  ;  and  another  file,  who 
had  just  escaped  from  the  infliction,  making  a  variety  of  wry 
mouths  indicative  of  anything  but  satisfaction.  The  whole 
were  attired  in  such  motley,  ill-sorted,  extraordinary  garments, 
as  would  have  been  irresistibly  ridiculous,  but  for  the  foul  ap- 
pearance of  dirt,  disorder,  and  disease,  with  which  they  were 
associated. 

"Now,"  said  Squeers,  giving  the  desk  a  great  rap  with  his 
cane,  which  made  half  the  little  boys  nearly  jump  out  of  their 
boots,  "  is  that  physicking  over  ?  " 

•'Just  over,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers,  choking  the  last  boy  in 
her  hurry,  and  tapping  the  crown  of  his  head  with  the  wooden 
spoon  to  restore  him.  "  Here,  you  Smike  ;  take  away  now. 
Look  sharp  !  " 

Smike  shuffled  out  with  the  basin,  and  Mrs.  Squeers  having 
called  up  a  little  boy  with  a  curly  head,  and  wiped  her  hands 
upon  it,  hurried  out  ofter  him  into  a  species  of  wash-house, 
where  there  was  a  small  lire  and  a  large  kettle,  together  with 
a  number  of  little  wooden  bowls  which  were  arranged  upon  a 
board. 

Into  these  bowls,  Mrs.  Squeers,  assisted  by  the  hungry 
servant,  poured  a  brown  composition,  which  looked  like  diluted 
pincushions  without  the  covers,  and  was  called  porridge.  A 
minute  wedge  of  brown  bread  was  inserted  in  each  bowl,  and 
when  they  had  eaten  their  porridge  by  means  of  the  bread. 


c,4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

the  boys  ate  the  bread  itself,  and  had  finished  their  break- 
fast ;  whereupon  Mr.  Squeers  said,  in  a  solemn  voice,  '*  For 
what  we  have  received,  may  the  Lord  make  us  truly  thank- 
ful !  " — and  went  away  to  his  own. 

Nicholas  distended  his  stomach  with  a  bowl  of  porridge, 
for  much  the  same  reason  which  induces  some  savages  to 
swallow  earth — lest  they  should  be  inconveniently  hungr)'- 
when  there  is  nothing  to  eat.  Having  further  disposed  of  a 
slice  of  bread  and  butter,  allotted  to  him  in  virtue  of  his  office, 
he  sat  himself  down,  to  wait  for  school-time. 

He  could  not  but  observe  how  silent  and  sad  the  boys  all 
seemed  to  be.  There  was  none  of  the  noise  and  clamor  of  a 
school-room ;  none  of  its  boisterous  play,  or  hearty  mirth. 
The  children  sat  crouching  and  shivering  together,  and  seemed 
to  lack  the  spirit  to  move  about.  The  only  pupil  who  evinced 
the  slightest  tendency  towards  locomotion  or  playfulness  was 
Master  Squeers,  and  as  his  chief  amusement  was  to  tread  upon 
the  other  boys'  toes  in  his  new  boots,  his  flow  of  spirits  was 
rather  disgreeable  than  otherwise. 

After  some  half-hour's  delay,  Mr.  Squeers  reappeared,  and 
the  boys  took  their  places  and  their  books,  of  which  latter 
commodity  the  average  might  be  about  one  to  eight  learners. 
A  few  minutes  having  elapsed,  during  which  Mr.  Squeers 
looked  very  profound,  as  if  he  had  a  perfect  apprehension 
of  what  was  inside  all  the  books,  and  could  say  ever}^  word  of 
their  contents  by  heart  if  he  only  chose  to  take  the  trouble, 
that  gentleman  called  up  the  first  class. 

Obedient  to  this  summons  there  ranged  themselves  in  front 
of  the  schoolmaster's  desk,  half-a-dozen  scarecrows,  out  at 
knees  and  elbows,  one  of  whom  placed  a  torn  and  filthy  book 
beneath  his  learned  eye. 

"  This  is  the  class  in  English  spelling  and  philosophy, 
Nickleby,"  said  Squeers,  beckoning  Nicholas  to  stand  beside 
him.  "  We'll  get  up  a  Latin  one,  and  hand  that  over  to  you. 
Now,  then,  where's  the  first  boy  ?  " 

"  Please,  sir,  he's  cleaning  the  back  parlor  window,"  said 
the  temporary  head  of  the  philosophical  class. 

"  So  he  is,  to  be  sure,"  rejoined  Squeers.  "  We  go  upon  the 
practical  mode  of  teaching,  Nickleby  ;  the  regular  education 
system.  C-1-e-a-n,  clean,  verb  active,  to  make  bright,  to  scour. 
W-i-n,  win,  d-e-r,  der,  winder,  a  casement.  When  the  boy  knows 
this  out  of  book,  he  goes  and  does  it.  It's  just  the  same 
principle  as  the  use  of  the  globes.   Where's  the  second  boy  !" 


\ 


NICHOLAS  mCKLEBY.  K)^<)^ 

"  Please,  sir,  he's  weeding  the  garden,"  replied  a  small 
voice. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Squeers,  by  no  means  disconcerted. 
"  So  he  is.     B-o-t,  bot,  t-i-n,  tin,  bottin,  n-e-y,  ney,  bottinney,    , 
noun  substantive,  a  knowledge  of  plants.    When  he  has  learned    7 
that  bottiney  means  a  knowledge  of  plants,  he  goes  and  knows 
'em.     That  our  system,  Nickleby  ;  what  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  It's  a  very  useful  one,  at  any  rate,"  answered  Nicholas.  . 

"  I  believe  you,"  rejoined  Squeers,  not  remarking  the 
emphasis  of  his  usher.     "  Third  boy,  what's  a  horse  ?  " 

"  A  beast,  sir,"  replied  the  boy. 

,"  So  it  is,"  said  Squeers.     "  Ain't  it,  Nickleby  ?  " 

"  I  believe  there  is  no  doubt  of  that,  sir,"  answered 
Nicholas. 

"  Of  course  there  isn't,"  said  Squeers.  "  A  horse  is  a 
quadruped,  and  quadruped's  Latin  for  beast,  as  every  body 
that's  gone  through  the  grammar  knows,  or  else  where's  the 
use  of  having  grammars  at  all  ?  " 

"  Where,  indeed  !  "  said  Nicholas  abstractedly. 

"  As  you're  perfect  in  that,"  resumed  Squeers,  turning  to 
the  boy,  "  go  and  look  after  viy  horse,  and  rub  him  down  well, 
or  I'll  rub  you  down.  The  rest  of  the  class  go  and  draw 
water  up,  till  somebody  tells  you  to  leave  ofT,  for  it's  washing 
day  to-morrow,  and  they  want  the  coppers  filled." 

So  saying,  he  dismissed  the  first  class  to  their  experiments 
in  practical  philosophy,  and  eyed  Nicholas  with  a  look,  half 
cunning  and  half  doubtful,  as  if  he  were  not  altogether  certain 
what  he  might  think  of  him  by  this  time. 

"  That's  the  way  we  do  it,  Nickleby,"  he  said,  after  a 
pause. 

Nicholas  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  a  manner  that  was 
scarcely  perceptible,  and  said  he  saw  it  was. 

"  And  a  very  good  way  it  is,  too,"  said  Squeers.  "  Now, 
just  take  them  fourteen  little  boys  and  hear  them  some  read- 
ing, because,  you  know,  you  must  begin  to  be  useful.  Idling 
about  here,  won't  do." 

Mr.  Squeers  said  this,  as  if  it  had  suddenly  occurred  to 
him,  either  that  he  must  not  say  too  much  to  his  assistant,  or 
that  his  assistant  did  not  say  enough  to  him  in  praise  of  the 
establishment.  The  children  were  arranged  in  a  semicircle 
round  the  new  master,  and  he  was  soon  listening  to  their  dull, 
drawling,  hesitating  recital  of  those  stories  of  engrossing 
interest  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  more  antiquated  spelling 
books. 


g6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

In  this  exciting  occupation,  the  morning  lagged  heavily  on. 
At  one  o'clock,  the  boys,  having  previously  had  their  appetites 
thoroughly  taken  away  by  stir-about  and  potatoes,  sat  down 
in  the  kitchen  to  some  hard  salt  beef,  of  which  Nicholas  was 
graciously  permitted  to  take  his  portion  to  his  own  solitary 
desk,  to  eat  it  there  in  peace.  After  this,  there  was  another 
hour  of  crouching  in  the  school-room  and  shivering  with  cold, 
and  then  school  began  again. 

It  was  Mr.  Squeers's  custom  to  call  the  boys  together,  and 
make  a  sort  of  report,  after  every  half-yearly  visit  to  the  metro- 
polis, regarding  the  relations  and  friends  he  had  seen,  the 
news  he  had  heard,  the  letters  he  had  brought  down,  the  bills 
which  had  been  paid,  the  accounts  which  had  been  left  unpaid, 
and  so  forth.  This  solemn  proceeding  always  took  place  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  day  succeeding  his  return  ;  perhaps,  be- 
cause the  boys  acquired  strength  of  mind  from  the  suspense  of 
the  morning,  or  possibly,  because  Mr.  Squeers  himself  acquired 
greater  sternness  and  inflexibility  from  certain  warm  potations 
in  which  he  was  wont  to  indulge  after  his  early  dinner.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  the  boys  were  recalled  from  house-window, 
garden,  stable,  and  cow-yard,  and  the  school  were  assembled 
in  full  conclave,  when  Mr.  Squeers,  with  a  small  bundle  of 
papers  in  his  hand,  and  Mrs.  S.  following  with  a  pair  of  canes, 
entered  the  room  and  proclaimed  silence. 

"  Let    any  boy  speak  a  word   without   leave,"  said  Mr. 

Squeers  mildly,  "  and  I'll  take  the  skin  off  his  back." 

This  special  proclamation  had  the  desired  elTect,  and  a 
death-like  silence  nnmediately  prevailed,  in  the  midst  of  which 

Mr.  Squeers  went  on  to  say  : 

"  Boys,  I've  been  to  London,  and  have  returned  to  my 

family  and  you,  as  strong  and  well  as  ever." 

According  to  half-yearly  custom,  the  boys  gave  three  feeble 

cheers  at  this    refreshing  intelligence.     Such  cheers  !     Sighs 

of  e.xtra  strength  with  the  chill  on. 

"  I    have    seen    the    parents   of   some    boys,"    continued 

Squeers,  turning  over  his  papers,  "  and  they're  so  glad  to  hear 

how  their  sons  are  getting  on,  that  there's  no  prospect  at  all 

of  their  going  away,  which  of  course  is  a  very  pleasant  thing 

to  reflect  upon,  for  all  parties." 

Two  or  three  hands  went  to  two  or  three  eyes  when  Squeers 

said  this,  but  the  greater  jDart  of  the  young  gentlemen  having 

no  particular  parents  to  speak  of,  were  wholly  uninterested  in 

the  thing  one  way  or  other. 


NICHOLAS  NJCKLEB  Y 


97 


"  I  have  had  disappointments  to  contend  against,"  said 
Squeers,  looking  very  grim  ;  "  Bolder's  father  was  two  pound 
ten  short.     Where  is  Bolder?" 

"  Here  he  is,  please  sir,"  rejoined  twenty  officious  voices. 
Boys  are  very  like  men  to  be  sure. 

"  Come  here,  Bolder,"  said  Squeers. 

An  unhealthy-looking  boy,  with  warts  all  over  his  hands, 
stepped  from  his  place  to  the  master's  desk,  and  raised  his 
eyes  imploringly  to  Squeers's  face  ;  his  own  quite  white  from 
the  rapid  beating  of  his  heart. 

"  Bolder,"  said  Squeers,  speaking  very  slowly,  for  he  was 
considering,  as  the  saying  goes,  where  to  have  him.  "  Bolder, 
if  your  father  thinks  that  because — why,  what's  this,  sir?  " 

As  Squeers  spoke,  he  caught  up  the  boy's  hand  by  the  cuff 
of  his  jacket,  and  surveyed  it  with  an  edifying  aspect  of  horror 
and  disgust. 

"  What  do  you  -call  this,  sir  ?  "  demanded  the  school- 
master, administering  a  cut  with  the  cane  to  expedite  the 
reply. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  indeed,  sir,"  rejoined  the  boy,  crying. 
"  They  will  come  ;  it's  the  dirty  work  I  think,  sir — at  least  I 
don't  know  what  it  is,  sir,  but  it's  not  my  fault." 

"  Bolder,"  said  Squeers,  tucking  up  his  wristbands,  and 
moistening  the  palm  of  his  right  hand  to  get  a  good  grip  of 
the  cane,  "  you  are  an  incorrigible  young  scoundrel,  and  as 
the  last  thrashing  did  you  no  good,  we  must  see  what  another 
will  do  towards  beating  it  out  of  you." 

W^ith  this,  and  wholly  disregarding  a  piteous  cry  for  mercy, 
Mr.  Squeers  fell  upon  the  boy  and  caned  him  soundly  :  not 
leaving  off  indeed,  until  his  arm  was  tired  out. 

"  There,"  said  Squeers,  when  he  had  quite  done  ;  "  rub 
away  as  hard  as  you  like,  you  won't  rub  that  off  in  a  hurry. 
Oh !  you  won't  hold  that  noise,  won't  you  ?  Put  him  out, 
Smike.." 

The  drudge  knew  better  from  long  experience,  than  to 
hesitate  about  obeying,  so  he  bundled  the  victim  out  by  a  side 
door,  and  Mr.  Squeers  perched  himself  again  on  his  own  stool, 
supported  by  Mrs.  Squeers,  who  occupied  another  at  his  side. 
"  Now  let  us  see,"  said  Squeers.  "  A  letter  for  Cobbey. 
Stand  up,  Cobbey." 

Another  boy  stood  up,  and  eyed  the  letter  very  hard  while 
Squeers  made  a  mental  abstract  of  the  same. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Squeers  :  "  Cobbey's  grandmother  is   dead, 

7 


98 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


and  his  uncle  John  has  took  to  drinking,  which  is  all  the  news 
his  sister  sends,  except  eighteenpence,  which  will  just  pay  for 
that  broken  square  of  glass.  Mrs.  Squeers,  my  dear,  will  you 
take  the  money  ?  " 

The  worthy  lady  pocketed  the  eighteenpence  with  a  most 
business-iike  air,  and  Squeers  passed  on  to  the  next  boy,  as 
coolly  as  possible. 

"  Graymarsh,''  said  Squeers,  "  he's  the  next.  Stand  up, 
Graymarsh." 

Another  boy  stood  up,  and  the  schoolmaster  looked  over 
the  letter  as  before. 

"  Graymarsh's  maternal  aunt,"  said  Squeers,  when  he  had 
possessed  himself  of  the  contents,  "  is  very  glad  to  hear  he's 
so  well  and  happy,  and  sends  her  respectful  compliments  to 
Mrs.  Squeers,  and  thinks  she  must  be  an  angel.  She  likewise 
thinks  Mr.  Squeers  is  too  good  for  this  world;  but  hopes  he 
may  long  be  spared  to  carry  on  the  business.  Would  have 
sent  the  two  pair  of  stockings  as  desired,  but  is  short  of 
money,  so  forwards  a  tract  instead,  and  hopes  Graymarsh  will 
put  his  trust  in  Providence.  Hopes,  above  all,  that  he  will 
study  in  every  thing  to  please  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Squeers,  and  look 
upon  them  as  his  only  friends  ;  and  that  he  will  love  Master 
Squeers ;  and  not  object  to  sleeping  five  in  a  bed,  which  no 
Christian  should.  Ah!"  said  Squeers,  folding  it  up,  "  a  de- 
lightful letter.     Very  affecting  indeed." 

It  was  affecting  in  one  sense,  for  Graymarsh's  maternal 
aunt  was  strongly  supposed,  by  her  more  intimate  friends,  to 
be  no  other  than  his  maternal  parent ;  Squeers,  however, 
without  alluding  to  this  part  of  the  story  (which  would  have 
sounded  immoral  before  boys),  proceeded  with  the  business 
by  calling  out  "  Mobbs,"  whereupon  another  boy  rose,  and 
Graymarsh  resumed  his  seat. 

"  Mobbs's  mother-in-law,"  said  Squeers,  "  took  to  her  bed 
on  hearing  that  he  wouldn't  eat  fat,  and  has  been  very  jll  ever 
since.  She  wishes  to  know,  by  an  early  post,  where  he  ex- 
pects to  go  to,  if  he  quarrels  with  his  vittles  ;  and  with  what 
feelings  he  could  turn  up  his  nose  at  the  cow's  liver  broth, 
after  iiis  good  master  had  asked  a  blessing  on  it.  This  was 
told  her  in  the  London  newspapers — not  by  Mr.  Squeers,  for 
he  is  too  kind  and  too  good  to  set  anybody  against  anybody 
— and  it  has  vexed  her  so  much,  Mobbs  can't  think.  She  is 
sorry  to  find  he  is  discontented,  which  is  sinful  and  horrid, 
and  hopes  Mr.  Squeers  will  flog  him   into  a  happier  state  of 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  gg 

mind ;  with  this  view,  she  has  also  stopped  liis  halfpenny  a 
week  pocket-money,  and  given  a  double-bladed  knife  with  a 
corkscrew  in  it  to  the  Missionaries,  which  she  had  bought  on 
purpose  for  him." 

"  A  sulky  state  of  feeling,"  said  Squeers,  after  a  terrible 
pause,  during  which  he  had  moistened  the  palm  of  his  right 
hand  again,  "  won't  do.  Cheerfulness  and  contentment  must 
be  kept  up.     Mobbs,  come  to  me  !  " 

Mobbs  moved  slowly  towards  the  desk,  rubbing  his  eyes 
in  anticipation  of  good  cause  fordoing  so  ;  and  he  soon  after- 
wards retired  by  the  side  door,  with  as  good  a  cause  as  a 
boy  need  have. 

Mr.  Squeers  then  proceeded  to  open  a  miscellaneous  col- 
lection of  letters ;  some  enclosing  money,  which  Mrs.  Squeers 
"  took  care  of  ;"  and  others  referring  to  small  articles  of  ap- 
parel, as  caps  and  so  forth,  all  of  which  the  same  lady  stated 
to  be  too  large,  or  too  small,  and  calculated  for  nobody  but 
young  Squeers,  who  would  appear  indeed  to  have  had  most 
accommodating  limbs,  since  every  thing  that  came  into  the 
school  fitted  him  to  a  nicety.  His  head,  in  particular,  must 
have  been  singularly  elastic,  for  hats  and  caps  of  all  dimen- 
sions were  alike  to  him. 

This  business  despatched,  a  few  slovenly  lessons  were  per- 
formed, and  Squeers  retired  to  his  fireside,  leaving  Nicholas 
to  take  care  of  the  boys  in  the  school-room,  which  was  very 
cold,  and  where  a  meal  of  bread  and  cheese  was  served  out 
shortly  after  dark. 

There  was  a  small  stove  at  that  corner  of  the  room  which 
was  nearest  to  the  master's  desk,  and  by  it  Nicholas  sat  down, 
so  depressed  and  self-degraded  by  the  consciousness  of  his 
position,  that  if  death  could  have  come  upon  him  at  that  time, 
he  would  have  been  almost  happy  to  meet  it.  The  cruelty  of 
which  he  had  been  an  unwilling  witness,  the  coarse  and  ruf- 
fianly behavior  of  Squeers  even  in  his  best  mood?,  the  filthy 
place,  the  sights  and  sounds  about  him,  all  contributed  to  this 
state  of  feeling  ;  but  when  he  recollected  that,  being  there  as 
as  an  assistant,  he  actually  seemed— no  matter  what  unhappy 
train  of  circumstances  had  brought  him  to  that  pass — to  be 
the  aider  and  abettor  of  a  system  which  filled  him  with  honest 
disgust  and  indignation,  he  loathed  himself,  and  felt,  for  the 
moment,  as  though  the  mere  consciousness  of  his  present  sit- 
uation must,  through  all  time  to  come,  pre\ent  his  raising  his 
head  again. 


loo  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

But,  for  the  present,  his  resolve  was  taken,  and  the  reso- 
lution he  had  formed  on  the  preceding  night  remained  undis- 
turbed. He  had  written  to  his  mother  and  sister,  announcing 
the  safe  conclusion  of  his  journey,  and  saying  as  linle  about 
Dotheboys  Hall,  and  saying  that  little  as  cheerfully  as  he 
possibly  could.  He  hoped  that  by  remaining  where  he  was, 
he  might  do  some  good,  even  there  ;  at  all  events,  others  de- 
pended too  much  on  his  uncle's  favor,  to  admit  of  his  awaken- 
ing his  wrath  just  then. 

One  reflection  disturbed  him  far  more  than  any  selfish 
considerations  arising  out  of  his  own  position.  This  was  the 
probable  destination  of  his  sister  Kate.  His  uncle  had  de- 
ceived him,  and  might  he  not  consign  her  to  some  miserable 
place  where  her  youth  and  beauty  would  prove  a  far  greater 
curse  than  ugliness  and  decrepitude  ?  To  a  caged  man, 
bound  hand  and  foot,  this  was  a  terrible  idea  ; — but  no,  he 
thought,  his  mother  was  by ;  there  was  the  portrait-painter, 
too — simple  enough,  but  still  living  in  the  world,  and  of  it. 
He  was  willing  to  believe  that  Ralph  Nickleby  had  conceived 
a  personal  dislike  to  himself.  Having  pretty  good  reason,  by 
this  time,  to  reciprocate  it,  he  had  no  great  difificulty  in  arriv- 
ing at  this  conclusion,  and  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  the 
feeling  extended  no  farther  than  between  them. 

As  he  was  absorbed  in  these  meditations,  he  all  at  once 
encountered  the  upturned  face  of  Smike,  who  was  on  his 
knees  before  the  stove,  picking  a  few  stray  cinders  from  the 
hearth  and  planting  them  on  the  fire.  He  had  paused  to  steal 
a  look  at  Nicholas,  and  when  he  saw  that  he  was  obser\-ed, 
shrunk  back,  as  if  expecting  a  blow. 

"  You  need  not  fear  me,"  said  Nicholas  kindly.  "  Are 
you  cold? " 

"N-n-o." 

"  You  are  shivering." 

"  I  am  not  cold,"  replied  Smike  quickly.  "  I  am  used 
to  it." 

There  was  such  an  obvious  fear  of  giving  offence  in  his 
manner,  and  he  was  such  a  timid,  broken-spirited  creature, 
that  Nicholas  could  not  help  exclaiming,  "  Poor  fellow  !  " 

If  he  had  struck  the  drudge,  he  would  have  slunk  away 
without  a  word.     15ut,  now,  he  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear !  "  he  cried,  covering  his  face  with  his 
cracked  and  horny  hands.  "  My  heart  will  break.  It  will,  it 
will." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  i  o  i 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Nicholas,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  shoul- 
der. "  Be  a  man  ;  you  are  nearly  one  by  years,  God  help 
you." 

"  By  years  !  "  cried  Smike.  "  Oh  dear,  dear,  how  many  of 
them !  How  many  of  them  since  I  was  a  liule  child,  younger 
than  any  that  are  here  now  !     Where  are  they  all  !  " 

"  Whom  do  you  speak  of  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas,  wishing 
tj  rouse  the  poor  half-witted  creature  to  reason.  "Tell 
me." 

"My  friends,"  he  replied,  "myself — my — oh!  what  suf- 
ferinsrs  mine  have  been  !  " 

"  There  is  always  hope,"  said  Nicholas  ;  he  knew  not  what 
to  say. 

"  No,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  no ;  none  for  me.  Do  you  re- 
member the  boy  that  died  here  t  " 

"  I  was  not  here,  you  know,"  said  Nicholas  gently  ;  "  but 
what  of  him  ?  " 

"  Why,"  replied  the  youth,  drawing  closer  to  his  questioner's 
side.  "  I  was  with  him  at  night,  and  when  it  was  all  silent  he 
cried  no  more  for  friends  he  wished  to  come  and  sit  with  him, 
but  be^an  to  see  faces  round  his  bed  that  came  from  home  ; 
he  said  they  smiled  and  talked  to  him  ;  and  he  died  at  last  lift- 
in  r  his  head  to  kiss  them.     Do  vou  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  rejoined  Nicholas. 

"  What  faces  will  smile  on  me  when  I  die  !  "  cried  his 
companion,  shivering.  "  Who  will  talk  to  me  in  those  long 
nights  !  They  cannot  come  from  home  ;  they  would  frighten 
me,  if  they  did,  for  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  and  shouldn't 
know  them.  Pain  and  fear,  pain  and  fear  for  me,  alive  or 
dead.     No  hope,  no  hope  !  " 

The  bell  rang  to  bed  :  and  the  boy,  subsiding  at  the  sound 
into  his  usual  listless  state,  crept  away  as  if  anxious  to  avoid 
notice.  It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  Nicholas  soon  after- 
wards— no,  not  retired  ;  there  was  no  retirement  there — fol- 
lowed— to  his  dirty  and  crowded  dormitory. 


I02  NICHOLAS  XICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  MISS  SQUEERS,  MRS.  SQUEERS,  MASTER  SQUEERS,  AND  MR. 
SQUEERS  ;  AND  OF  VARIOUS  MATTERS  AND  PERSONS  CON- 
NECTED NO  LESS  WITH  THE  SQUEERSES  THAN  WITH  NICH- 
OLAS NICKLEBY. 

When  Mr.  Squeers  left  the  school-room  for  the  night,  he 
betook  himself,  as  has  been  before  remarked,  to  his  own  fire- 
side, which  was  situated — not  in  the  room  in  which  Nicholas 
had  supped  on  the  night  of  his  arrival,  but  in  a  smaller  depart- 
ment in  the  rear  of  the  premises,  where  his  lady  wife,  his  ami- 
able son,  and  accomplislied  daughter,  were  in  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  each  other's  society  ;  Mrs.  S  queers  being  engaged  in 
the  matronly  pursuit  of  stocking-dar  ling  ;  and  the  young  lady 
and  gentleman  being  occupied  in  the  adjustment  of  some 
youthful  differences,  by  means  of  pugilistic  contests  across  the 
table,  which,  on  the  approach  of  their  honored  parent,  sub- 
sided into  a  noiseless  exchange  of  kicks  beneath  it. 

And,  in  this  place,  it  may  be  as  well  to  apprise  the  reader, 
that  Miss  Fanny  Squeers  was  in  her  three-and-twentieth  year. 
If  there  be  any  one  grace  or  loveliness  inseparable  from  that 
particular  period  of  life,  Miss  Squeers  may  be  presumed  to 
have  been  possessed  of  it,  as  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  she  was  a  solitary  exception  to  an  universal  rule.  She 
was  not  tall  like  her  mother,  but  short  like  her  father  ;  from 
the  former  she  inherited  a  voice  of  harsh  quality  ;  from  the 
latter  a  remarkable  expression  of  the  right  eye,  something 
akin  to  having  none  at  all. 

Miss  Squeers  had  been  spending  a  few  days  with  a  neigh- 
boring friend,  and  had  only  just  returned  to  the  parental  roof. 
To  this  circumstance  may  be  referred,  her  having  heard  noth- 
ing of  Nicholas,  until  Mr.  Squeers  himself  now  made  him  the 
subject  of  conversation. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  Squeers,  drawing  up  his  chair, 
"what  do  you  think  of  him  by  this  time  ?" 

"Think  of  who .'"  inquired  Mrs.  Squeers;  who  (as  she 
often  remarked)\vas  no  grammarian,  thank  Heaven. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  103 

"  Of  the  young  man — the  new  teacher — who  else  could  I 
mean." 

"  Oh  !  that  Knuckleboy,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers  impatiently. 
"  I  hate  him." 

"  What  do  you  hate  him  for,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Squeers. 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?  "  retorted  Mrs.  Squeers.  "  If  I  hate 
him,  that's  enough  ain't  it." 

"  Quite  enough  for  him,  my  dear,  and  a  great  deal  too  much 
I  dare  say,  if  he  knew  it,"  replied  Squeers  in  a  pacific  tone.  "  I 
only  asked  from  curiosity,  my  dear." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  want  to  know,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Squeers, 
"  I'll  tell  you.  Because  he's  a  proud,  haughty  consequential, 
turned-up-nosed  peacock." 

Mrs.  Squeers,  when  excited,  was  accustomed  to  use  strong 
language,  and,  moreover,  to  make  use  of  plurality  of  epithets, 
some  of  which  was  of  a  figurative  kind,  as  the  word  peacock, 
and  furthermore  the  allusion  to  Nicholas's  nose,  which  was  not 
intended  to  be  taken  in  its  literal  sense,  but  rather  to  bear  a 
latitude  of  construction  according  to  the  fancy  of  the  hearers. 

Neither  were  they  meant  to  bear  reference  to  each  other, 
so  much  as  to  the  object  on  whom  they  were  bestowed,  as  will 
be  seen  in  the  present  case  :  a  peacock  with  a  turned-up-nose 
being  a  novelty  in  ornithology,  and  a  thing  not  commonly 
seen. 

"  Hem  !  "  said  Squeers,  as  if  in  mild  deprecation  of  this 
outbreak.  "  He  is  cheap,  my  dear  ;  the  young  man  is  very 
cheap." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  retorted  Mrs.  Squeers. 

"  Five  pound  a  year,"  said  Squeers. 

"  What  of  that ;  it's  dear  if  you  don't  want  him,  isn't  it  ?  " 
replied  his  wife. 

"  But  we  do  want  him,"  urged  Squeers. 

"  I  don't  see  that  you  want  him  any  more  than  the  dead," 
said  Mrs.  Squeers.  "  Don't  tell  me.  You  can  put  on  the 
cards  and  in  the  advertisements,  '  Education  by  Mr.  Wack- 
ford  Squeers  and  able  assistants,'  without  having  any  assistants 
can't  you  ?  Isn't  it  done  every  day  by  all  the  masters  about .'' 
I've  no  patience  with  you." 

"  Haven't  you  !  "  said  Squeers,  sternly.  "  Now  I'll  tell  you 
what  Mrs.  Squeers.  In  this  matter  of  having  a  teacher,  I'll 
take  my  own  way,  if  you  please.  A  slave  driver  in  the  West 
Indies  is  allowed  a  man  under  him,  to  see  that  his  blacks 
don't  run  away,  or  get  up  a  rebellion  ;  and  I'll  have  a  man 


I04  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

under  me  to  do  t4ie  same  with  our  blacks,  till  such  time  as 
little  Wackford  is  able  to  take  charge  of  the  school." 

"  Am  I  to  lake  care  of  the  school  when  I  grow  up  a  man, 
father  ? "  said  Wackford  junior,  suspending  in  the  excess  of 
his  delight,  a  vicious  kick  which  he  was  administering  to  his 
sister. 

"  You  are,  my  son,"  replied  Mr.  Squeers  in  a  sentimental 
voice. 

"  Oh  my  eye,  won't  I  give  it  to  the  boys  !  "  exclaimed  the 
interesting  child,  grasping  his  father's  cane.  "  Oh,  father, 
won't  I  make  'em  squeak  again  !  " 

.It  was  a  proud  moment  in  Mr.  Squeers's  life,  when  he 
witnessed  that  burst  of  enthusiasm  in  his  young  child's  mind, 
and  saw  in  it  a  foreshadowing  of  his  future  eminence.  He 
pressed  a  penny  into  his  hand,  and  gave  vent  to  his  feelings 
(as  did  his  exemplary  wife  also),  in  a  shout  of  approving  laugh- 
ter. The  infantine  appeal  to  their  common  sympathies,  at 
once  restored  cheerfulness  to  the  conversation  and  harmony 
to  the  company. 

"  He's  a  nasty  stuck-up  monkey,  that's  what  I  consider 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers  reverting  to  Nicholas. 

"  Supposing  he  is,"  said  Squeers,  "  he  is  as  well  stuck  up  in 
our  school-room  as  anywhere  else,  isn't  he  ? — ^especially  as  he 
don't  like  it." 

"Well,"  observed  Mrs.  Squeers,  "there's  something  in 
that.  I  hope  it'll  bring  his  pride  down,  and  it  shall  be  no 
fault  of  mine  if  it  don't." 

Now,  a  proud  usher  in  a  Yorkshire  school  was  such  a  very 
extraordinary  and  unaccountable  thing  to  hear  of, — any  usher 
at  all  being  a  novelty  ;  but  a  proud  one,  a  being  of  whose  ex- 
istence the  wildest  imagination  could  never  have  dreamed — 
that  Miss  Squeers,  who  seldom  troubled  herself  with  scholas- 
tic matters,  inquired  with  much  curiosity  who  this  Knuckle- 
boy  was,  that  gave  himself  such  airs. 

"Nickleby,"  said  Squeers,  spelling  the  name  according  to 
some  eccentric  system  which  prevailed  in  his  own  mind  ;  "  your 
motlier  always  calls  things  and  people  by  their  wrong  names." 

"  No  matter  for  that,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers,  "  I  see  them 
with  right  eyes,  and  that's  quite  enough  for  me.  I  watched 
him  when  you  were  laying  on  to  little  Bolder  this  afternoon. 
He  looked  as  black  as  thunder,  all  the  while,  and,  one  time 
started  up  as  if  he  had  more  than  made  up  his  mind  to  make 
a  rush  at  you.     /  saw  him  though  he  thought  I  didn't." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  1 05 

"  Never  mind  that,  father,"  said  Miss  Squeers,  as  the  head 
of  the  family  was  about  to  reply.     "  Who  is  the  man  ?  " 

"  Wiiy,  your  father  has  got  some  nonsense  in  his  head  that 
he's  the  son  of  a  poor  gentleman  that  died  the  other  day," 
said  Mrs.  Squeers. 

"  The  son  of  a  gentleman  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  If  he's  a  gentle- 
man's son  at  all,  he's  a  fondling,  that's  my  opinion." 

Mrs.  Squeers  intended  to  say  "  foundling,"  but,  as  she  fre- 
quently remarked  when  she  made  any  such  mistake,  it  would 
be  all  die  same  a  hundred  years  hence  ;  with  which  axiom  of 
philosophy,  she  was  in  the  constant  habit  of  consoling  the 
boys  when  they  labored  under  more  than  ordinary  ill  usage. 

"  He's  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Squeers,  in  answer  to 
the  above  remark,  "  for  his  father  was  married  to  his  mother 
years  before  he  was  born,  and  she  is  ali\  e  now.  If  he  was,  it 
would  be  no  business  of  ours,  for  we  make  a  very  good  friend 
by  having  him  here  ;  and  if  he  likes  to  learn  the  boys  any- 
thing besides  minding  them,  I  have  no  objection  I  am  sure." 

"  I  say  again,  I  hate  him  worse  than  poison,"  said  Mrs 
Squeers,  vehemently. 

"  If  you  dislike  him,  my  dear,"  returned  Squeers,  "  I 
don't  know  anybody  who  can  show  dislike  better  than  you, 
and  of  course  there's  no  occasion,  with  him,  to  take  the  trou- 
ble to  hide  it." 

"  I  don't  intend  to,  I  assure  you,"  interposed  Mrs.  S. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Squeers ;  "  and  if  he  has  a  touch  of 
pride  about  him,  as  I  think  he  has,  I  don't  believe  there's  a 
woman  in  all  England  that  can  bring  anybody's  spirit  down, 
as  quick  as  you  can,  my  love." 

Mrs.  Squeers  chuckled  vastly  on  the  receipt  of  these  com- 
pliments, and  said,  she  hoped  she  had  tamed  a  high  spirit  or 
two,  in  her  day.  It  is  but  due  to  her  character  to  say,  that  in 
conjunction  with  her  estimable  husband,  she  had  broken 
manv  and  many  a  one. 

Miss  Fanny  Squeers  carefully  treasured  up  this,  and  much 
more  conversation  on  the  same  subject,  until  she  retired  for 
the  ni'dit,  when  she  questioned  the  hungry  servant,  minutely, 
regarding  the  outward  appearance  and  demeanor  of  Nicholas  ; 
toVhich  queries  the  girl  returned  such  enthusiastic  replies, 
coupled  with  so  many  laudatory  remarks  touching  his  beauti- 
ful dark  eyes,  and  his  sweet  smile,  and  his  straight  legs — upon 
which  last-named  articles  she  laid  particular  stress  ;  the  gen- 


1 06  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

eral  run  of  legs  at  Dotheboys  Hall  being  crooked — that  Miss 
Squeers  was  not  long  in  arriving  at  the  conclusion  that  the  new 
usher  must  be  a  very  remarkable  person,  or,  as  she  herself 
significantly  phrased  it,  "  something  quite  out  of  the  com- 
mon." And  so  Miss  Squeers  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
would  take  a  personal  observation  of  Nicholas  the  very  next 
day. 

In  pursuance  of  this  design,  the  young  lady  watched  the 
opportunity  of  her  mother  being  engaged,  and  her  father  ab- 
sent, and  went  accidentally  into  the  school-room  to  get  a  pen 
mended  :  where,  seeing  nobody  but  Nicholas  presiding  over 
the  boys,  she  blushed  very  deeply,  and  exhibited  great  con- 
fusion. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  faltered  Miss  Squeers  ;  "  I  thought 
my  father  was — or  might  be — ^dear  me,  how  very  awkward  !  " 

"  Mr.  Squeers  is  out,"  said  Nicholas,  by  no  means  over- 
come by  the  apparition,  unexpected  though  it  was. 

'"  Do  you  know  will  he  be  long,  sir  ? "  asked  Miss  Squeers, 
with  bashful  hesitation. 

"  He  said  about  an  hour,"  replied  Nicholas — politely  of 
course  but  without  any  indication  of  being  stricken  to  the 
heart  by  Miss  Squeers's  charms. 

"  I  never  knew  anything  happen  so  cross,"  exclaimed  the 
young  lady.  "  Thank  you  !  I  am  veiy  sorry  I  intruded,  I 
am  sure.  If  I  hadn't  thought  my  father  was  here,  I  wouldn't 
upon  any  account  have — it  is  very  provoking — must  look  so 
very  strange,"  murmured  Miss  Squeers,  blushing  once  more, 
and  glancing  from  the  pen  in  her  hand,  to  Nicholas  at  his 
desk,  and  back  again. 

"  If  that  is  all  you  want,"  said  Nicholas,  pointing  to  the 
pen,  and  smiling,  in  spite  of  himself,  at  the  affected  embar- 
rassment of  the  schoolmaster's  daughter,  "  perhaps  I  can 
supply  his  place." 

Miss  Squeers  glanced  at  the  door,  as  if  dubious  of  the 
propriety  of  advancing  any  nearer  to  an  utter  stranger  ;  then 
round  the  school-room,  as  though  in  some  measure  reassured 
by  the  presence  of  forty  boys  ;  and  finally  sidled  up  to 
Nicholas  and  delivered  the  pen  into  his  hand,  with  a  most 
winning  mixture  of  reserve  and  condescension. 

"  Shall  it  be  a  hard  or  a  soft  nib  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas, 
smiling  to  prevent  himself  from  laughing  outright. 

"  He  /las  a  beautiful  smile,"  thought  Miss  Squeers. 

"  Which  did  you  say .?  "  asked  Nicholas. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y- 


107 


"  Dear  me,  I  was  thinking  of  something  else  for  the  mo- 
ment, I  declare,"  replied  Miss  Squeers — "Oh!  as  soft  as 
possible,  if  you  please."  With  which  words  Miss  Squeers 
sighed.  It  might  be  to  give  Nicholas  to  understand  that  her 
heart  was  soft,  and  that  the  pen  was  wanted  to  match. 

Upon  these  instructions  Nicholas  made  the  pen  ;  when  he 
gave  it  to  Miss  Squeers,  Miss  Squeers  dropped  it  ;  and  when 
he  stooped  to  pick  it  up  Miss  Squeers  stooped  also,  and  they 
knocked  their  heads  together  ;  whereat  five-and-twenty  little 
boys  laughed  aloud  ;  being  positively  for  the  first  and  only 
time  that  half  year. 

"  Very  awkward  of  me,"  said  Nicholas,  opening  the  door 
for  the  young  lady's  retreat. 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,"  replied  Miss  Squeers  ;  ''  it  was  my  fault. 
It  was  all  my  foolish — a — a — good-morning  !  " 

"Good-by,"  said  Nicholas.  "The  next  I  make  for  you 
I  hope  will  be  made  less  clumsily.  Take  care !  You  are 
biting  the  nib  off  now." 

"  Really,"  said  Miss  Squeers  ;  "  so  embarrassing  that  I 
scarcely  know  what  I — very  sorry  to  give  you  so  much 
trouble." 

"  Not  the  least  trouble  in  the  world,"  replied  Nicholas, 
closing  the  school-room  door. 

"  I  never  saw  such  legs  in  the  whole  course  of  my  life  !  " 
said  Miss  Squeers,  as  she  walked  away. 

In  fact.  Miss  Squeers  was  in  love  with  Nicholas  Nickleby. 

To  account  for  the  rapidity  with  which  this  young  lady 
had  conceived  a  passion  for  Nicholas,  it  may  be  necessary  to 
state,  that  the  friend  from  whom  she  had  so  recently  returned 
was  a  milter's  daughter  of  only  eighteen,  who  had  contracted 
herself  unto  the  son  of  a  small  corn-factor,  resident  in  the 
nearest  market  town.  Miss  Squeers  and  the  miller's  daugh- 
ter, being  fast  friends,  had  covenanted  together  some  two 
years  before,  according  to  a  custom  prevalent  among  young 
ladies,  that  whoever  was  first  engaged  to  be  married,  should 
straightway  confide  the  mighty  secret  to  the  bosom  of  the 
other,  before  communicating  it  to  any  living  soul,  and  bespeak 
her  as  bridesmaid  without  loss  of  time ;  in  fulfilment  of  which 
pledge  the  miller's  daughter,  when  her  engagement  was 
formed,  came  out  express,  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night  as  the 
corn-factor's  son  made  an  offer  of  his  hand  and  heart  at 
twenty-five  minutes  past  ten  by  the  Dutch  clock  in  the  kitchen, 
and  rushed  into  Miss  Squeers's  bed-room  with  the  gratifying 


lo8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

intelligence.  Now,  Miss  Squeers  being  five  years  older,  and 
out  of  her  teens  (which  is  also  a  great  matterj,  had,  since, 
been  more  than  commonly  anxious  to  return  the  compliment, 
and  possess  her  friend  with  a  similar  secret  ;  but,  either  in 
consequence  of  finding  it  hard  to  please  herself,  or  harder 
still  to  please  any  body  else,  had  never  had  an  opportunity 
so  to  do,  inasmuch  as  she  had  no  such  secret  to  disclose. 
The  little  interview  with  Nicholas  had  no  sooner  passed,  as 
above  described,  however,  than  Miss  Squeers,  putting  on 
her  bonnet,  made  her  way,  with  great  precipitation,  to  her 
friend's  house,  and,  upon  a  solemn  renewal  of  divers  old  vows 
of  secrecy,  revealed  how  that  she  was — not  exactly  engaged, 
but  going  to  be — to  a  gentleman's  son — (none  of  your  corn- 
factors,  but  a  gentleman's  son  of  high  descent) — who  had 
come  down  as  teacher  to  Dotheboys  Hall,  under  most  myste- 
rious and  remarkable  circumstances — indeed,  as  Miss  Squeers 
more  than  once  hinted  she  had  good  reason  to  believe,  in- 
duced, by  the  fame  of  her  many  charms,  to  seek  her  out,  and 
woo  and  win  her. 

"  Isn't  it  an  extraordinan,^  thing  ? "  said  Miss  Squeers, 
emphasizing  the  adjective  stronply. 

"  Most  extraordinary,"  replied  the  friend.  "  But  what 
has  he  said  to  you  ?  " 

"Don't  ask  me  what  he  said,  my  dear,"  rejoined  Miss 
Squeers.  "  If  you  had  only  seen  his  looks  and  smiles  !  I 
never  was  so  overcome  in  all  my  life." 

"  Did  he  look  in  this  way  ?  "  inquired  the  miller's  daugh- 
ter, counterfeiting,  as  nearly  as  she  could,  a  favorite  leer  of 
the  corn-factor. 

"  Very  like  that — only  more  genteel,"  replied  Miss 
Squeers. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  friends,  "  then  he  means  something, 
depend  on  it." 

Miss  Squeers,  having  slight  misgivings  on  the  subject, 
was  by  no  means  ill  pleased  to  be  confirmed  by  a  competent 
authority ;  and,  discovering,  on  further  conversation  and 
comparison  of  notes,  a  great  many  points  of  resemblance 
between  the  behavior  of  Nicholas,  and  that  of  the  corn-factor, 
grew  so  exceedingly  confidential,  that  she  intrusted  her  friend 
with  a  vast  number  of  things  Nicholas  had  7iot  said,  which 
were  all  so  very  complimentary  as  to  be  quite  conclusi\e. 
Then,  she  dilated  on  tlie  fearful  hardship  of  having  a  father 
and  mother  strenuously  opposed  to  her  intended   husband  ; 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  109 

on  which  unhappy  circumstances  she  dwelt  at  great  length  ; 
for  the  friend's  father  and  mother  were  quite  agreeable  to  her 
being  married,  and  the  whole  courtship  was  in  consequence 
as  fiat  and  common-place  an  affair  as  it  was  possible  to 
imagine. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  see  him !  "  exclaimed  the  friend. 

"  So  you  shall,  'Tilda,"  replied  Miss  Squeers.  "  I  should 
consider  myself  one  of  the  most  ungrateful  creatures  alive,  if 
I  denied  you.  I  think  mother's  going  away  for  two  days  to 
fetch  some  boys  ;  and  when  she  does,  I'll  ask  you  and  John 
up  to  tea,  and  have  him  to  meet  you." 

This  was  a  charming  idea,  and  having  fully  discussed  it, 
the  friends  parted. 

It  so  fell  out,  that  Mrs.  Squeers's  journey,  to  some  dis- 
tance, to  fetch  three  new  boys,  and  dun  the  relations  of  two 
old  ones  for  the  balance  of  a  small  account,  was  fixed,  that 
very  afternoon,  for  the  next  day  but  one  ;  and  on  the  next 
day  but  one,  Mrs.  Squeers  got  outside  the  coach,  as  it  stopped 
to  change  at  Greta  Bridge,  laking  with  her  a  small  bundle 
containing  something  in  a  bottle,  and  some  sandwiches,  and 
carrying  besides  a  large  white  top  coat  to  wear  in  the  night- 
time ;  with  which  baggage  she  went  her  way. 

Whenever  such  opportunities  as  these  occurred,  it  was 
Squeers's  custom  to  drive  over  to  the  market  town,  e\  ery 
evening,  on  pretence  of  urgent  business,  and  stop  till  ten  or 
eleven'o'clock  at  a  tavern  he  much  affected.  As  the  party 
was  not  in  his  way,  therefore,  but  rather  afforded  a  means  of 
compromise  with  Miss  Squeers,  he  readily  yielded  his  full 
assent  thereunto,  and  willingly  communicated  to  Nicholas 
that  he  was  expected  to  take  his  tea  in  the  parlor  that  even- 
ing, at  five  o'clock. 

To  be  sure  Miss  Squeers  was  in  a  desperate  flutter  as  the 
time  approached,  and  to  be  sure  she  was  dressed  out  to  the 
best  advantage  :  with  her  hair— it  had  more  than  a  tinge  of 
red,  and  she  wore  it  in  a  crop— curled  in  five  distinct  rows, 
up  to  the  very  top  of  her  head,  and  arranged  dexterously  over 
the  doubtful  eye  ;  to  say  nothing  of  the  blue  sash  which  floated 
down  her  back,  or  the  worked  apron,  or  the  long  gloves,  or 
the  green  scarf,  worn  over  one  shoulder  and  under  the  other ; 
or  any  of  the  numerous  devices  which  were  to  be  as  so  many 
arrows  to  the  heart  of  Nicholas.  She  had  scarcely  completed 
these  arrangements  to  her  entire  satisfaction,  when  the 
friend  arrived  with  a  whitey-brown  parcel — flat  and  three- 


1 1  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

cornered — containing  sundry  small  adornments  which  were 
to  be  put  on  up  stairs,  and  which  the  friend  put  on,  talking 
incessantly.  When  Miss  Squeers  had  "  done"  the  friend's  hair, 
the  friend  "  did  "  Miss  Squeers's  hair,throwingin  some  striking 
improvements  in  the  way  of  ringlets  down  the  neck  ;  and  then, 
when  they  were  both  touched  up  to  their  entire  satisfaction, 
they  went  down  stairs  in  full  state  with  the  long  gloves  on, 
all  ready  for  company. 

"  Where's  John,  'Tilda  ?  "  said  Miss  Squeers. 

"  Only  gone  home  to  clean  himself,"  replied  the  friend. 
"  He  will  be  here  by  the  time  the  tea's  drawn." 

"  I  do  so  palpitate,"  observed  Miss  Squeers. 

"Ah  !   I  know  what  it  is,"  replied  .the  friend. 

"  I  have  not  been  used  to  it,  you  know,  'Tilda,"  said  Miss 
Squeers,  applying  her  hand  to  the  left  side  of  her  sash. 

"  You'll  soon  get  the  better  of  it,  dear,"  rejoined  the 
friend.  While  they  were  talking  thus,  the  hungr}'  servant 
brought  in  the  tea  things,  and,  soon  afterwards,  somebody 
tapped  at  the  room  door. 

"  There  he  is  !  "  cried  Miss  Squeers.     "  Oh  'Tilda  !  " 

"  Hush  !  "  said  'Tilda.     "  Hem  !     Say,  come  in." 

"  Come  in,"  cried  Miss  Squeers  faintly.  And  in  walked 
Nicholas. 

"Good  evening,"  said  that  young  gentleman,  all  uncon- 
scious of  Lis  conquest.  "  I  understood  from  Mr.  Squeers 
that " 

"  Oh  yes  ;  it's  all  right,"  interposed  Miss  Squeers.  "  Father 
don't  tea  with  us,  but  you  won't  mind  that,  I  dare  say." 
(This  was  said  archly.) 

Nicholas  opened  his  eyes  at  this,  but  he  turned  the  matter 
off  very  coolly — not  caring,  particularly,  about  anything  just 
then — and  went  through  the  ceremony  of  introduction  to  the 
miller's  daughter,  with  so  much  grace,  that  that  young  lady 
was  lost  in  admiration. 

"  We  are  only  waiting  for  one  more  gentleman,"  said 
Miss  Squeers,  taking  off  the  tea-pot  lid,  and  looking  in,  to  see 
how  the  tea  was  getting  on. 

It  was  matter  of  equal  moment  to  Nicholas  wliether  the) 
were  waiting  for  one  gentleman  or  twenty,  so  he  recei\  ed  the 
intelligence  with  perfect  unconcern  ;  and  being  out  of  spirits, 
and  not  seeing  any  especial  reason,  why  he  should  make  him- 
self agreeable,  looked  out  of  the  window  and  sighed  involun- 
tarily. 


NICHOLAS  lYICKLEBY.  m 

As  luck  would  have  it,  Miss  Squeers's  friend  was  of  a  play- 
ful turn,  and  hearing  Nicholas  sigh,  she  took  it  into  her  head 
to  rally  the  lovers  on  their  lowness  of  spirits. 

"  But  if  it's  caused  by  my  being  here,"  said  the  young  lady, 
"  don't  mind  me  a  bit,  for  I'm  quite  as  bad.  You  may  go  on 
just  as  you  would  if  you  were  alone.'' 

"  'Tilda,"  said  Miss  Squeers,  coloring  up  to  the  top  row  of 
curls,  "  I  am  ashamed  of  you ;  "  and  here  the  two  friends 
burst  into  a  variety  of  giggles,  and  glanced,  from  time  to  time, 
over  the  tops  of  their  pocket-handkerchiefs,  at  Nicholas,  who 
from  a  state  of  unmixed  astonishment,  gradually  fell  into  one 
of  irrepressible  laughter —  occasioned,  partly  by  the  bare  no- 
tion of  his  being  in  love  with  Miss  Squeers,  and  partly  by 
the  preposterous  appearance  and  behaviour  of  the  two  girls. 
These  two  causes  of  merriment,  taken  together,  struck  him  as 
being  so  keenly  ridiculous,  that,  despite  his  miserable  con- 
dition, he  laughed  till  he  was  thoroughly  exhausted. 

"  Well,"  thought  Nicholas,  "  as  I  am  here,  and  seem 
expected,  for  some  reason  or  other,  to  be  amiable,  it's  of  no 
use  looking  like  a  goose.  I  may  as  well  accommodate  myself 
to  the  company." 

We  blush  to  tell  it  ;  but  his  youthful  spirits  and  vivacity, 
getting,  or  a  time,  the  better  of  his  sad  thoughts,  he  no  sooner 
formed  this  resolution  than  he  saluted  Miss  Squeers  and 
the  friend,  with  great  gallantr)-,  and  drawing  a  chair  to  the 
tea-table,  began  to  make  himself  more  at  home  than  in  all 
probability  an  usher  has  ever  done  in  his  employer's  house 
since  ushers  were  first  invented. 

The  ladies  were  in  the  full  delight  of  this  altered  behaviour 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Nickleby,  when  the  expected  swain  arrived, 
with  his  hair  x&xy  damp  from  recent  washing,  and  a  clean 
shirt,  whereof  the  collar  might  have  belonged  to  some  giant 
ancestor,  forming,  together  with  a  white  waistcoat  of  similar 
dimensions,  the  chief  ornament  of  his  person. 

"Well,  John,"  said  Miss  Matilda  Price  (which,  by  the  bye, 
was  the  name  of  the  miller's  daughter). 

"Week"  said  John  with  a  grin  that  even  the  collar  could 
not  conceal. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Miss  Squeers,  hastening 
to  do  the  honors,  "  Mr.  Nickleby — Mr.  John  Browdie." 

"  Servant,  sir,"  said  John,  who  was  something  over  six 
feet  high,  with  a  face  and  body  rather  above  the  due  propor- 
tion than  below  it. 


1 1 2  NICHOLAS  mCKLEB  Y. 

"  Yours  to  command,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas,  making  fear- 
ful ravages  on  the  bread  and  butter. 

Mr.  Browdie  was  not  a  gentleman  of  great  conversational 
powers,  so  he  grinned  twice  more,  and  having  now  bestowed 
his  customary  mark  of  recognition  on  every  person  in  com- 
pany, grinned  at  nothing  particular,  and  helped  himself  to 
food. 

"  Old  wooman  awa',  bean't  she  ?  "  said  Mr,  Browdie,  with 
his  mouth  full. 

Miss  Squeers  nodded  assent. 

Mr.  Browdie  gave  a  grin  of  special  width,  as  if  he  thought 
that  really  was  something  to  laugh  at,  and  went  to  work  at 
the  bread  and  butter  with  increased  vigor.  It  was  quite  a 
sight  to  behold  how  he  and  Nicholas  emptied  the  plate  be- 
tween them. 

"  Ye  wean't  get  bread  and  butther  ev'ry  neight,  I  expect, 
mun,"  said  Mr.  Browdie,  after  he  had  sat  staring  at  Nicholas 
a  long  time  over  the  empty  plate. 

Nicholas  bit  his  lip,  and  colored,  but  affected  not  to  hear 
the  remark. 

"  Ecod,"  said  Mr.  Browdie,  laughing  boisterously.  "  they 
dean't  put  too  much  intiv'em.  Ye'U  be  nowt  but  skeen  and 
boans  if  you  stop  here  long  eneaf.  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  " 
"  You  are  facetious,  sir,"  said  Nicholas,  scornfully. 
"  Na  ;  I  dean't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Browdie,  "but  t'oother 
teacher,  'cod  he  wur  a  lean  'un,  he  wur."  The  recollection  of 
the  last  teacher's  leanness  seemed  to  afford  Mr.  Browdie  the 
most  exquisite  delight,  for  he  laughed  until  he  found  it  neces- 
sary to  apply  his  coat-cuffs  to  his  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  your  perceptions  are  quite  keen 
enough,  Mr.  Browdie,  to  enable  you  to  understand  that  your 
remarks  are  offensive,"  said  Nicholas  in  a  towering  passion, 
"  but  if  they  are,  have  the  goodness  to — " 

"  If  you  say  another  word,  John,"  shrieked  Miss  Price, 
stopping  her  admirer's  mouth  as  he  was  about  to  interrupt, 
"only  half  a  word,  I'll  never  forgive  you,  or  speak  to  you 
again." 

"  Weel,  my  lass,  I  dean't  care  aboot  'un,"  said  the  corn- 
factor,  bestowing  a  hearty  kiss  on  Miss  Matilda  ;  "  let  'un 
gang  on,  let  'un  gang  on." 

It  now  became  Miss  Squeers's  turn  to  intercede  with  Nich- 
olas, which  she  did  with  many  symptoms  of  alarm  and  hor- 
ror ;  the  effect  of  the   double  intercession,  was,  that  he  and 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


"3 


John  Browdie  shook  hands  across  the  table  with  much  grav- 
ity ;  and  such  was  the  imposing  nature  of  the  ceremonial, 
thac  Miss  Squeers  was  overcome  and  shed  tears. 

"  What's  the  matter,  P'anny  ?  "  said  Miss  Price. 

"  Nothing,  'Tilda,"  replied  Miss  Squeers,  sobbing. 

"  There  never  was  any  danger,"  said  Miss  Price,  "  was 
there,  Mr.  Nickleby  .?  " 

"  None  at  all,"  replied  Nicholas.     "  Absurd." 

"  That's  right,"  whispered  Miss  Price,  "  say  something 
kind  to  her,  and  she'll  soon  come  round.  Here  !  Shall  John 
and  I  go  into  the  little  kitchen,  and  come  back  presently  ?  " 

"  Not  on  any  account,"  rejoined  Nicholas,  quite  alarmed 
at  the  proposition.  "  'V\^hat  on  earth  should  you  do  that 
for .?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Price,  beckoning  him  aside,  and  speak- 
ing with  some  degree  of  contempt — "  you  are  a  one  to  keep 
company." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Nicholas  ;  "  I  am  not  a  one 
to  keep  company  at  all — here  at  all  events.  I  can't  make 
this  out." 

"No,  nor  I  neither,"  rejoined  Miss  Price;  "but  men  are 
always  fickle,  and  always  were,  and  always  will  be  ;  that  I  can 
make  out,  very  easily." 

"  Fickle  !  "  cried  Nicholas  ;  "what  do  you  suppose  ?  You 
don't  mean  to  say  that  you  think — " 

"Oh  no,  I  think  nothing  at  all,"  retorted  Miss  Price,  pet- 
tishly. "  Look  at  her,  dressed  so  beautiful  and  looking  so 
well — really  almost  handsome.     I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

"  My  dear  girl,  what  have  I  got  to  do  with  her  dressing 
beautifully  or  looking  well  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas. 

"  Come,  don't  call  me  a  dear  girl,"  said  Miss  Price — smil- 
ing a  little  though,  for  she  was  pretty,  and  a  coquette  too  in 
her  small  way,  and  Nicholas  was  gooO-looking,  and  she  sup- 
posed him  the  property  of  somebody  else,  which  were  all 
reasons  why  she  should  be  gratified  to  think  she  had  made 
an  impression  on  him, — "  or  Fanny  will  be  saying  it's  my 
fault.  Come  ;  we're  going  to  have  a  game  at  cards."  Pro- 
nouncing these  last  words  aloud,  she  tripped  away  and  re- 
joined the  big  Yorkshireman. 

This  was  wholly  unintelligible  to  Nicholas,  who  had  no 
other  distinct  impression  on  his  mind  at  the  moment,  than 
that  Miss  Squeers  was  an  ordinary-looking  girl,  and  her  friend 
Miss  Price   a  pretty  one  ;  but  he  had  not  time  to  enlighten 

8 


1 1 4  NICHOLAS  mCKLEB  V. 

himself  by  reflection,  for  the  hearth  being  by  this  time  swept 
up,  and  the  candle  snuffed,  they  sat  down  to  play  speculation. 

"There  are  only  four  of  us,  'Tilda,"  said  Miss  Squeers, 
looking  slyly  at  Nicholas  ;  "  so  we  had  better  go  partners,  two 
against  two." 

"What  do  you  say,  Mr.  Nickleby  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Price. 

"  With  all  the  pleasure  in  life,"  replied  Nicholas.  And  so 
saying,  quite  unconscious  of  his  heinous  offence,  he  amalga- 
mated into  one  common  heap  those  portions  of  a  Dotheboys 
Hall  card  of  terms,  which  represented  his  own  counters,  and 
those  allotted  to  Miss  Price,  respectively. 

"  Mr.  Browdie,"  said  Miss  Squeers  hysterically,  "  shall 
we  make  a  bank  against  them  ?  " 

The  Yorkshireman  assented — apparently  quite  over- 
whelmed by  the  new  us'ier's  impudence — and  Miss  Squeers 
darted  a  spiteful  look  at  her  friend,  and  giggled  convulsively. 

The  deal  fell  to  Nicholas,  and  the  hand  prospered. 

"We  intend  to  win  everything,"  said  he. 

"  'Tilda  //<7S  won  something  she  didn't  expect,  I  think, 
haven't  you,  dear  ?  "  said  Miss  Squeers,  maliciously. 

"Only  a  dozen  and  eight,  love,"  rejDlied  Miss  Price,  af- 
fecting to  take  the  question  in  a  literal  sense. 

"  How  dull  you  are  to-night !  "  sneered  Miss  Squeers. 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Miss  Price,  "I  am  in  excellent 
spirits.     I  was  thinking  ji'^?^  seemed  out  of  sorts." 

"  Me  !  "  cried  Miss  Squeers,  biting  her  lips,  and  trembling 
with  very  jealousy  ;  "  oh  no  !  " 

"  That's  well,"  remarked  Miss  Price.  "  Your  hair's  coming 
out  of  curl,  dear." 

"Never  mind  me,"  tittered  Miss  Squeers;  "you  had 
better  attend  to  your  partner." 

"  Thank  you  for  reminding  her,"  said  Nicholas.  "  So  she 
had." 

The  Yorkshireman  flattened  his  nose,  once  or  twice,  with 
his  clenched  fist,  as  if  to  keep  his  hand  in,  till  he  had  an 
opportunity  of  exercising  it  upon  the  features  of  some  other 
gentleman  ;  and  Miss  Squeers  tossed  her  head  with  such 
indignation,  that  the  gust  of  wind  raised  by  the  multitudinous 
curls  in  motion,  nearly  blew  the  candle  out. 

"  I  never  had  such  luck,  really,"  exclaimed  coquettish 
Miss  Price,  after  another  hand  or  two.  "  It's  all  along  of 
you,  Mr.  Nickleby,  I  think.  I  should  like  to  have  you  for  a 
partner  always." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  115 

"  I  wish  you  had." 

"  You'll  have  a  bad  wife,  though,  if  you  always  win  at 
cards,"  said  Miss  Price. 

"Not  if  your  wish  is  gratified,"  replied  Nicholas.  "I  am 
sure  I  shall  have  a  good  one  in  that  case." 

To  see  how  Miss  Squeers  tossed  her  head,  and  the  corn 
factor  flattened  his  nose,  while  this  conversation  was  carrying 
on !  It  would  have  been  worth  a  small  annuity  to  have 
beheld  that ;  let  alone  Miss  Price's  evident  joy  at  making 
them  jealous,  and  Nicholas  Nickleby's  happy  unconscious- 
ness of  making  anybody  uncomfortable. 

"We  have  all  the  talking  to  ourselves,  it  seems,"  said 
Nicholas,  looking  good-humoredly  round  the  table  as  he  took 
up  the  cards  for  a  fresh  deal. 

"  You  do  it  so  well,"  tittered  Miss  Squeers,  that  it  would 
be  a  pity  to  interrupt,  wouldn't  it,  Mr.  Browdie  ?  He  !  he  ! 
he  !  " 

"  Nay,"  said  Nicholas,  "  we  do  it  in  default  of  having  any- 
body else  to  talk  to." 

"  We'll  talk  to  you,  you  know,  if  you'll  say  anything,"  said 
Miss  Price. 

"Thank  you,  'Tilda,  dear,"  retorted  Miss  Squeers,  majes- 
tically. 

"  Or  you  can  talk  to  each  other,  if  you  don't  choose  to 
talk  to  us,"  said  Miss  Price,  rallying  her  dear  friend.  "  John, 
why  don't  you  say  something  ?  " 

"Say  summat?"  repeated  the  Yorkshireman. 

"  Ay,  and  not  sit  there  so  silent  and  glum." 

"  Weel,  then  !  "  said  the  Yorkshireman,  striking  the  table 
heavily  with  his  fist,  "  what  I  say's  this — Dang  my  boans  and 
boddy,  if  I  stan'  this  ony  longer.  Do  ye  gang  whoam  wi'  me, 
and  do  you  loight  an'  t'oight  young  whipster,  look  sharp  out 
for  a  brokken  head,  next  time  he  cums  under  my  bond." 

"  Mercy  on  us,  what's  all  this  ?  "  cried  Miss  Price,  in  af- 
fected astonishment. 

"  Cum  whoam,  tell'e,  cum  whoam,"  replied  the  Yorkshire- 
man,  sternly.  And  as  he  delivered  the  reply.  Miss  Squeers 
burst  into  a  shower  of  tears  ;  arising  in  part  from  desperate 
vexation,  and  in  part  from  an  impotent  desire  to  lacerate 
somebody's  countenance  with  her  fair  finger-nails. 

This  state  of  things  had  been  brought  about  by  divers 
means  and  workings.  Miss  Squeers  had  brought  it  about, 
by  aspiring  to  the  high  state  and  condition  of  being  matrimo- 


1 1 6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

nially  engaged,  without  good  grounds  for  so  doing ;  Miss 
Price  had  brought  it  about,  by  indulging  in  three  motives  of 
action  ;  first,  a  desire  to  punish  her  friend  for  laying  claim  to 
a  rivalship  in  dignity,  having  no  good  title  ;  secondly,  the 
gratification  of  her  own  vanity,  in  receiving  the  compliments 
of  a  smart  young  man  ;  and  thirdly,  a  wish  to  convince  the 
corn-factor  of  the  great  danger  he  ran,  in  deferring  the  cele- 
bration of  their  expected  nuptials  ;  while  Nicholas  had  brought 
it  about,  by  half  an  hour's  gayety  and  thoughtlessness,  and  a 
very  sincere  desire  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  inclining  at  all 
to  Miss  Squeers.  So  the  means  employed,  and  the  end  pro- 
duced, were  alike  the  most  natural  in  the  world  ;  for  young 
ladies  will  look  forward  to  being  married,  and  will  jostle  each 
other  in.  the  race  to  the  altar,  and  will  avail  themselves  of  all 
opportunities  of  displaying  their  own  attractions  to  the  best 
advantage,  down  to  the  very  end  of  time,  as  they  have  done 
from  its  beginning. 

"  Why,  and  here's  Fanny  in  tears  now  !  "  exclaimed  Miss 
Price,  as  if  in  fresh  amazement.     "  What  can  be  the  matter  ?  " 

''  Oh  !  you  don't  know.  Miss,  of  course  you  don't  know 
Pray  don't  trouble  yourself  to  inquire,"  said  Miss  Squeers, 
producing  that  change  of  countenance  which  children  call, 
making  a  face. 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Price. 

"  And  who  cares  whether  you  are  sure  or  not,  ma'am .-'  " 
retorted  Miss  Squeers  making  another  face. 

"  You  are  monstrous  polite,  ma'am,"  said  Miss  Price. 

"  I  shall  not  come  to  you  to  take  lessons  in  the  art, 
ma'am  !  "  retorted  Miss  Squeers. 

"  You  needn't  take  the  trouble  to  make  yourself  plainer 
than  you  are,  ma'am,  however,"  rejoined  Miss  Price,  "because 
that's  quite  unnecessary." 

Miss  Squeers,  in  reply,  turned  very  red,  and  thanked  God 
that  she  hadn't  got  the  bold  faces  of  some  people.  Miss 
Price,  in  rejoinder,  congratulated  herself  upon  not  being  pos- 
sessed of  the  envious  feeling  of  other  people  ;  whereupon 
Miss  Squeers  made  some  general  remark  touching  the  daiiger 
of  associating  with  low  persons  ;  in  which  Miss  Price  entirely 
coincided  :  observing  that  it  was  very  true  indeed,  and  she 
had  tliought  so  a  long  time. 

'"Tilda,"  exclaimed  Miss  Squeers  with  dignity,  "  I  hate 
you." 

"  Ah  !     There's  no  love  lost  between  us,  I  assure  you," 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  117 

said  Miss  Price,  tying  her  bonnet  strings  with  a  jerk.  "  You'll 
cry  your  eyes  out,  when  I'm  gone  \  you  know  you  will." 

"  I  scorn  your  words,  Minx,"  said  Miss  Squeers. 

"You  pay  me  a  great  compHment  when  you  say  so," 
answered  the  miller's  daughter,  curtseying  very  low.  "  Wish 
you  a  very  good-night,  ma'am,  and  pleasant  dreams  attend 
your  sleep !  " 

With  this  parting  benediction,  Miss  Price  swept  from  the 
room,  followed  by  the  huge  Yorkshireman,  who  exchanged 
with  Nicholas,  at  parting,  that  peculiarly  expressive  scowl 
with  which  the  cut-and-thrust  counts,  in  melo-dramatic  per- 
formances, inform  each  other  they  will  meet  again. 

They  were  no  sooner  gone,  than  Miss  Squeers  fulfilled 
the  prediction  of  her  quondam  friend  by  giving  vent  to  a 
most  copious  burst  of  tears,  and  uttering  various  dismal 
lamentations  and  incoherent  words.  Nicholas  stood  lookins: 
on  for  a  few  seconds,  rather  doubtful  what  to  do,  but  feeling 
uncertain  whether  the  fit  would  end  in  his  being  embraced, 
or  scratched,  and  considering  that  either  infliction  would  be 
equally  agreeable,  he  walked  off  very  quietly  while  Miss 
Squeers  was  moaning  in  her  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  This  is  one-  consequence,"  thought  Nicholas,  when  he 
had  groped  his  way  to  this  dark  sleeping-room,  "of  my  cursed 
readiness  to  adapt  myself  to  any  society  in  which  chance 
carries  me.  If  I  had  sat  mute  and  motionless,  as  I  miirht 
have  done,  this  would  not  have  happened." 

He  listened  for  a  few  minutes,  but  all  was  quiet. 

"  I  was  glad,"  he  murmured,  "to  grasp  at  any  relief  from 
the  sight  of  this  dreadful  place,  or  the  presence  of  its  vile 
master.  I  have  set  these  people  by  the  ears,  and  made  two 
new  enemies,  where.  Heaven  knows,  I  needed  none.  Well, 
it  is  a  just  punishment  for  having  forgotten,  even  for  an  hour, 
what  is  around  me  now  !  " 

So  saying,  he  felt  his  way  among  the  throng  of  weary- 
hearted  sleepers,  and  crept  into  his  poor  bed. 


^i8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOW    MR.    RALPH     NICKLEBY     PROVIDED     FOR     HIS     NIECE    AND 

SISTER-IN-LAW. 

On  the  second  morning  after  the  departure  of  Nicholas 
for  Yorkshire,  Kate  Nickleby  sat  in  a  very  faded  chair  raised 
upon  a  very  dusty  throne  in  Miss  La  Creevy's  room,  giving 
that  lady  a  sitting  for  the  portrait  upon  wliich  she  was  en- 
gaged ;  and  towards  the  full  perfection  of  which.  Miss  La 
Creevy  had  had  the  street-door  case  brought  up-stairs,  in 
order  that  she  might  be  the  better  able  to  infuse  into  the 
counterfeit  countenance  of  Miss  Nickleby,  a  bright  salmon 
flesh-tint  which  she  had  originally  hit  upon  while  executing 
the  miniature  of  a  young  officer  therein  contained,  and  which 
bright  salmon  flesh-tint  was  considered  by  Miss  La  Creevy's 
chief  friends  and  patrons,  to  be  quite  a  novelty  in  art :  as 
indeed  it  was. 

"  I  think  I  have  caught  it  now,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy. 
"  The  \ery  shade  !  This  will  be  the  sweetest  portrait  I  have 
ever  done,  certainly." 

"It  will  be  your  genius  that  makes  it  so,  then,  I  am  sure," 
replied  Kate,  smiling. 

"No,  no,  I  won't  allow  that,  my  dear,"  rejoined  Miss  La 
Creevy.  "  It's  a  very  nice  subject — a  very  nice  subject,  in- 
deed— though  of  course,  something  depends  upon  the  mode 
of  treatment." 

"  And  not  a  little,"  observed  Kate. 

"  Why,  my  dear,  you  are  right  there,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy, 
"  in  the  main  you  are  right  there  ;  though  I  don't  allow  that 
it  is  of  such  very  great  importance  in  the  present  case.  Ah  ! 
The  difficulties  of  Art,  my  dear,  are  great." 

"They  must  be,  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  Kate,  humoring 
her  good-natured  little  friend. 

"  They  are  beyond  anything  you  can  form  the  faintest 
conception  of,"  replied  Miss  La  Creevy.  "What  with  bring- 
ing out  eyes  with  all  one's  power,  and  keeping  down  noses 
with  all  one's  force,  and  adding  to  heads,  and  taking  away 
teeth  altogether,  you  have  no  idea  of  the  trouble  one  little 
miniature  is." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  119 

"  The  remuneration  can  scarcely  repay  you,"  said  Kate. 

"Why,  it  does  not,  and  that's  the  truth,"  answered  Miss 
La  Creevy  ;  "  and  then  people  are  so  dissatisfied  and  unrea- 
sonable, that,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  there's  no  pleasure  in 
painting  them.  Sometimes  they  say,  '  Oh,  how  very  serious 
you  have  made  me  look,  Miss  La  Creevy ! '  and  at  others, 
'  La,  Miss  La  Creevy,  how  very  smirking !  '  when  the  very 
essence  of  a  good  portrait  is,  that  it  niust  be  either  serious  or 
smirking,  or  it's  no  portrait  at  all." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Kate,  laughing. 

"Certainly,  my  dear;  because  the  sitters  are  always  either 
the  one  or  the  other,"  replied  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  Look  at 
the  Royal  Academy  !  All  those  beautiful  shiny  portraits  of 
gentlemen  in  black  velvet  waistcoats,  with  their  fists  doubled 
up  on  round  tables,  or  marble  slabs,  are  serious,  you  know  ; 
and  all  the  ladies  who  are  playing  with  little  parasols,  or  little 
dogs,  or  little  children — it's  the  same  rule  in  art,  only  varj'ing 
the  objects — are  smirking.  In  fact,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy, 
sinking  her  voice  to  a  confidential  whisper,  "  there  are  only 
two  styles  of  portrait  painting  ;  the  serious  and  the  smirk ; 
and  we  always  use  the  serious  for  professional  people  (except 
actors  sometimes),  and  the  smirk  for  private  ladies  and  gentle- 
men who  don't  care  so  much  about  looking  clever." 

Kate  seemed  highly  amused  by  this  information,  and  Miss 
La  Creevy  went  on  painting  and  talking,  with  immovable 
complacency. 

"  What  a  number  of  officers  you  seem  to  paint !  "  said 
Kate,  availing  herself  of  a  pause  in  the  discourse,  and  glanc- 
ing round  the  room. 

"Number  of  what,  child.?"  inquired  Miss  La  Creevy, 
looking  up  from  her  work.  "  Character  portraits,  oh  yes — 
they're  not  real  military  men,  you  know." 

"  No  !  " 

"  Bless  your  heart,  of  course  not  ;  only  clerks  and  that, 
who  hire  a  uniform  coat  to  be  painted  in  and  send  it  here  in 
a  carpet  bag.  Some  artists,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  "keep  a 
red  coat,  and  charge  seven-and-sixpence  extra  for  hire  and 
carmine  ;  but  I  don't  do  that  myself,  for  I  don't  consider  it 
legitimate." 

Drawing  herself  up,  as  though  she  plumed  herself  greatly 
upon  not  resorting  to  these  lures  to  catch  sitters.  Miss  La 
Creevy  applied  herself,  more  intently,  to  her  task  :  only  rais- 
ing her  head  occasionally,  to  look  with  unspeakable  satisfac- 


1 2  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

tion  at  some  touch  she  had  just  put  in  :  and  now  and  then 
giving  Miss  Nickleby  to  understand  what  particular  features 
she  was  at  work  upon,  at  the  moment ;  "  not,"  she  expressly- 
observed,  "  that  you  should  make  it  up  for  painting,  my  dear, 
but  because  it's  our  custom  sometimes,  to  tell  sitters  what 
part  we  are  upon,  in  order  that  if  there's  any  particular  ex- 
pression they  want  introduced,  they  may  throw  it  in,  at  the 
time,  you  know." 

*'  And  when,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  after  a  long  silence, 
to  wit,  an  interval  of  full  a  minute  and  a  half,'  "when  do  you 
expect  to  see  your  uncle  again  ?  " 

"  I  scarcely  know  ;  I  had  expected  to  have  seen  him  be- 
fore now,"  replied  Kate.  "  Soon  I  hope,  for  this  state  of 
uncertainty  is  worse  than  anvthing." 

"I  suppose  he  has  moi.cy,  hasn't  he  ?"  inquired  Miss  La 
Cree\'y. 

"  He  is  very  rich,  I  have  heard,"  rejoined  Kate.  "  I  don't 
know  that  he  is,  but  I  believe  so." 

"  Ah,  you  may  depend  upon  it  he  is,  or  he  wouldn't  be  so 
surly,"  remarked  Miss  La  Creevy,  who  was  an  odd  little  mix- 
ture of  shrewdness  and  simplicity.  "  When  a  man's  a  bear, 
he  is  generally  pretty  independent." 

"  His  manner  is  rough,"  said  Kate. 

"  Rough  !  "  cried  Miss  La  Creevy,  "  a  porcupine's  a  feather- 
bed to  him  !  I  never  met  with  such  a  cross-grained  old  sav- 
age." 

"  It  is  only  his  manner,  I  believe,"  observed  Kate,  timidly  : 
"he  was  disappointed  in  early  life,  I  think  I  have  heard,  or 
has  had  his  temper  soured  by  some  calamity.  I  should  be 
sorry  to  think  ill  of  him  until  I  knew  he  deserved  it." 

"  Well  ;  that's  very  right  and  proper,"  observed  the  minia- 
ture painter,  "  and  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  be  the  cause  of 
your  doing  so  !  But,  now,  mightn't  he,  without  feeling  it  him- 
self, make  you  and  your  mama  some  nice  little  allowance 
that  would  keep  you  both  comfortable  until  you  were  well 
married,  and  be  a  little  fortune  to  her  afterwards  ?  What 
would  a  hundred  a  year,  for  instance,  be  too  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  would  be  to  him,"  said  Kate,  with 
energy,  "  but  it  would  be  that  to  me  I  would  rather  die  than 
take/' 

"  Heyday  !  "  cried  Miss  La  Creevy. 

"A  dependence  upon  him,"  said   Kate,  "would  embitter 
my  whole  life.     I  should  feel  begging,  a  far  less  degradation." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  1 2 1 

"  WelM  "  exclaimed  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  This  of  a  relation 
whom  you  will  not  hear  an  indifferent  person  speak  ill  of,  my 
dear,  sounds  oddly  enough,  I  confess." 

"  I  dare  say  it  does,"  replied  Kate,  speaking  more  gently, 
"  indeed  I  am  sure  it  must.  I — I — only  mean  that  with  the 
feelings  and  recollection  of  better  times  upon  me,  I  could 
not  bear  to  live  on  anybody's  bounty — not  his  particularly, 
but  anybody's." 

Miss  La  Creevy  looked  slyly  at  her  companion,  as  if  she 
doubted  whether  Ralph  himself  were  not  the  subject  of  dis- 
like, but  seeing  that  her  young  friend  was  distressed,  made  no 
remark. 

*'  I  only  ask  of  him,"  continued  Kate,  whose  tears  fell 
while  she  spoke,  "  that  he  will  move  so  little  out  of  his  way, 
in  my  behalf,  as  to  enable  me  by  his  recommendation — only 
by  his  recommendation — to  earn,  literally,  my  bread  and 
remain  with  my  mother.  Whether  we  shall  ever  taste  happi- 
ness again,  depends  upon  the  fortunes  of  my  dear  brother  \ 
but  if  he  will  do  this,  and  Nicholas  only  tells  us  that  he  is 
well  and  cheerful,  I  shall  be  contented." 

As  she  ceased  to  speak,  there  was  a  rustling  behind  the 
screen  which  stood  between  her  and  the  door,  and  some  per- 
son knocked  at  the  wainscot. 

"  Come  in,  whoever  it  is  !  "  cried  Miss  La  Creevy. 

The  person  complied,  and,  coming  forward  at  once,  gave 
to  view  the  form  and  features  of  no  less  an  individual  than 
Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  himself. 

"  Your  ser\'ant,  ladies,"  said  Ralph,  looking  sharply  at  them 
by  turns.  "  You  were  talking  so  loud,  that  I  was  unable  to 
make  you  hear." 

When  the  man  of  business  had  a  more  than  commonly 
vicious  snarl  lurking  at  his  heart,  he  had  a  trick  of  almost 
concealing  his  eyes  under  their  thick  and  protruding  brows, 
for  an  instant,  and  then  displaying  them  in  their  full  keenness. 
As  he  did  so  now,  and  tried  to  keep  down  the  smile  which 
parted  his  thin  compressed  lips,  and  puckered  up  the  bad 
lines  about  his  mouth,  they  both  felt  certain  that  some  part, 
if  not  the  whole,  of  their  recent  conversation,  had  been  over- 
heard. 

"  I  called  in,  on  my  way  up  stairs,  more  than  half  expect- 
ing to  find  you  here,"  said  Ralph,  addressing  his  niece,  and 
looking  contemptuously  at  the  portrait.  "  Is  that  my  niece's 
portrait,  ma'am  .?  " 


122  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Yes  it  is,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  with  a 
very  sprightly  air,  "  and  between  you  and  me  and  the  post, 
sir,  it  will  be  a  very  nice  portrait  too,  though  I  say  it  who  am 
the  painter." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  to  show  it  to  me,  ma'am,"  cried 
Ralph,  moving  away,  "  I  have  no  eye  for  likenesses.  Is  it 
nearly  finished  .-"  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  Miss  La  Creevy,  considering  with  the 
pencil  end  of  her  brush  in  her  mouth.  "  Two  sittings  more 
will " 

"  Have  them  at  once,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph.  "  She'll  have 
no  time  to  idle  over  fooleries  after  to-morrow.  Work,  ma'am, 
work ;  we  must  all  work.  Have  you  let  your  lodgings, 
ma'am  .'''**  ' 

"  I  have  not  put  a  bill  up  yet,  sir." 

"  Put  it  up  at  once,  ma'am  ;  they  won't  want  the  rooms 
after  this  week,  or  if  they  do,  can't  pay  for  them.  Now,  my 
dear,  if  you're  ready,  we'll  lose  no  more  time." 

With  an  assumption  of  kindness  which  sat  worse  upon 
him,  even  than  his  usual  manner,  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  mo- 
tioned to  the  young  lady  to  precede  huii,  and  bowing  gravely 
to  Miss  La  Creevy,  closed  the  door  and  followed  up  stairs, 
where  Mrs.  Nickleby  received  him  with  many  expressions  of 
regard.  Stopping  them  somewhat  abruptly,  Ralph  waived 
his  hand  with  an  impatient  gesture,  and  proceeded  to  the  ob- 
ject of  his  visit. 

"  I  have  found  a  situation  for  your  daughter,  ma'am,"  said 
Ralph.  ^ — ^-.^ --" 

"  Well,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Now,  I  will  say  that 
that  is  only  just  what  I  have  expected  of  you.  '  Depend  upon 
it,'  I  said  to  Kate,  only  yesterday  morning  at  breakfast,  '  that 
after  your  uncle  has  provided,  in  that  most  ready  manner,  for 
Nicholas,  he  will  not  leave  us  until  he  has  done  at  least  the 
same  for  you.'  These  were  my  very  words,  as  near  as  I  re- 
member.    Kate,  my  dear,  why  don't  you  thank  your " 

"Let  me  proceed,  ma'am,  pray,"  said  Ralph,  interrupting 
his  sister-in-law  in  the  full  torrent  of  her  discourse. 

"  Kate,  my  love,  let  your  uncle  proceed,"  said  Mrs.  Nick- 
leby. 

"I  am  most  anxious  that  he  should, mamma,"  rejoined 
Kate. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  if  you  are  anxious  that  he  should,  you 
had  better  allow  your  uncle  to  say  what  he  has  to  say,  without 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


123 


interruption,"  observed  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  many  small  nods 
and  frowns.  "  Your  uncle's  time  is  very  valuable,  my  dear  ; 
and  however  desirous  you  may  be — and  naturally  desirous,  as 
1  am  sure  any  affectionate  relations  who  have  seen  so  little  of 
your  uncle  as  we  have,  must  naturally  be — to  protract  the 
pleasure  of  having  him  among  us,  still,  we  are  bound  not  to 
be  selfish,  but  to  take  into  consideration  the  important  nature 
of  his  occupations  in  the  city." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph  with 
a  scarcely  perceptible  sneer.  "  An  absence  of  business  hab- 
its in  this  family  leads,  apparently,  to  a  great  waste  of  words 
before  business — when  it  does  come  under  consideration — is 
arrived  at,  at  all." 

"  I  fear  it  is  so  indeed,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby  with  a  sigh. 
*'  Your  poor  brother " 

"  My  poor  brother,  ma'am,"  interposed  Ralph  tartly,  "  had 
no  idea  what  business  was — was  unacquainted,  I  verily  be- 
Ueve,  with  the  very  meaning  of  the  word." 

"  I  fear  he  was,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  her  handker- 
chief to  her  eyes.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for  me,  I  don't  know 
what  would  have  become  of  him." 

What  strange  creatures  we  are  !  The  slight  bait  so  skil- 
fully thrown  out  by  Ralph,  on  their  first  interview,  was  dang- 
ling on  the  hook  yet.  At  every  small  deprivation  or  discom- 
fort which  presented  itself  in  the  course  of  the  four-and- 
twenty  hours  to  remind  her  of  her  straitened  and  altered  cir- 
cumstances, peevish  visions  of  her  dower  of  one  thousand 
pounds  had  arisen  before  Mrs.  Nickleby's  mind,  until,  at  last, 
she  had  come  to  persuade  herself  that  of  all  her  late  husband's 
creditors  she  was  the  worst  used  and  the  most  to  be  pitied. 
And  yet,  she  had  loved  him  dearly  for  many  years,  and  had 
no  greater  share  of  selfishness  than  is  the  usual  lot  of  mortals. 
Such  is  the  irritability  of  sudden  poverty.  A  decent  annuity 
would  have  restored  her  thoughts  to  their  old  train,  at  once. 

"  Repining  is  of  no  use,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph.  "  Of  all 
fruitless  errands,  sending  a  tear  to  look  after  a  day  that  is 
gone,  is  the  most  fruitless.'' 

"  So  it  is,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Nickleby.     "  So  it  is." 

"  As  you  feel  so  keenly,  in  your  own  purse  and  person,  the 
consequences  of  inattention  to  business,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph, 
"  I  am  sure  you  will  impress  upon  your  children  the  necessity 
of  attaching  themselves  to  it,  early  in  life." 

"  Of   course    I    must  see  that,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Nickleby. 


124  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY 

"  Sad  experience,  you  know,  brother-in-law — .  Kate,  my  clear, 
put  that  clown  in  the  next  letter  to  Nicholas,  or  remind  me  to 
do  it  if  I  write." 

Ralph  paused,  for  a  few  moments,  and  seeing  that  he  had 
now  made  pretty  sure  of  the  mother,  in  case  the  daughter  ob- 
jected to  his  proposition,  went  on  to  say : 

"  The  situation  that  I  have  made  interest  to  procure,  ma'am, 
is  with — with  a  milliner  and  dress-maker,  in  short." 

"  A  milliner  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickieby. 

"  A  milliner  and  dress-maker,  ma'am,"  replied  Ralph. 
"Dress-makers  in  London,  as  I  need  not  remind  you,  ma'am, 
who  are  so  well  acquainted  with  all  matters  in  the  ordinary 
routine  of  life,  make  large  fortunes,  keep  equipages,  and  be- 
come persons  of  great  wealth  and  fortune." 

Now,  the  first  ideas  called  up  in  Mrs.  Nickleby's  mind  by 
the  words  milliner  and  dress-maker  were  connected  with  cer- 
tain wicker  baskets  lined  with  black  oil-skin,  which  she  re- 
membered to  have  seen  carried  to  and  fro  in  the  streets  ;  but, 
as  Ralph  proceeded,  these  disappeared,  and  were  replaced  by 
visions  of  large  houses  at  the  west  end,  neat  private  carriages, 
and  a  banker's  book  ;  all  of  which  images  succeeded  each 
other,  with  such  rapidity,  that  he  had  no  sooner  finished  speak- 
ing, than  she  nodded  her  head  and  said  "  Veiy  true,"  with 
great  appearance  of  satisfaction. 

"  What  your  uncle  says,  is  very  true,  Kate,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Nickieby.  "  I  recollect  when  your  poor  papa  and  I  came 
to  town  after  we  were  married,  that  a  young  lady  brought  me 
home  a  chip  cottage-bonnet,  with  while  and  green  trimming, 
and  green  persian  lining,  in  her  own  carriage,  which  drove  up 
to  the  door  full  gallop  ; — at  least,  I  am  not  quite  certain 
whether  it  was  her  own  carriage  or  a  hacknev  chariot,  but  I 
remember  very  well  that  the  horse  dropped  down  dead  as  he 
was  turning  round,  and  that  your  poor  papa  said  he  hadn't 
had  any  corn  for  a  fortnight." 

This  anecdote,  so  strikingly  illustrative  of  the  opulence  of 
milliners,  was  not  received  with  any  great  demonstration  of 
feeling,  inasmuch  as  Kate  hung  down  her  head  while  it  was 
relating,  and  Ralph  manifested  very  intelligible  symptoms  of 
extreme  iinpatieficev 

"  Th&'iady's  name,"  said  Ralph,  hastily  striking  in,  "is 
Mantalini — Madame  Mantalini.  I  know  her.  She  lives  near 
Cavendish  Square.  If  your  daughter  is  disposed  to  try  after 
the  situation,  I'll  take  her  there,  directly." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


125 


"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  your  uncle,  my  love  ?  "  in- 
quired Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"A  great  deal,"  replied  Kate;  "but  not  now.  I  would 
rather  speak  to  him  when  we  are  alone  ; — it  will  save  his  time 
if  I  thank  him  and  say  what  I  wish  to  say  to  him,  as  we  walk 
along." 

With  these  words,  Kate  hurried  away,  to  hide  the  traces 
of  emotion  that  were  stealing  down  her  face,  and  to  prepare 
herself  for  the  walk,  while  Mrs.  Nickleby  amused  her  brother- 
in-law  by  giving  him,  with  many  tears,  a  detailed  account  of 
the  dimensions  of  a  rosewood  cabinet  piano  they  had  pos- 
sessed in  their  days  of  affluence,  together  with  a  minute  de- 
scription of  eight  drawing-room  chairs,  with  turned  legs  and 
green  chintz  squabs  to  match  the  curtains,  which  had  cost  two 
pounds  fifteen  shillings  apiece,  and  had  gone  at  the  sale  for 
a  mere  nothing. 

These  reminiscences  were  at  length  cut  short  by  Kate's  re- 
turn in  her  walking  dress,  when  Ralph,  who  had  been  fretting 
and  fuming  during  the  whole  time  of  her  absence,  lost  no  time, 
and  used  very  little  ceremony,  in  descending  into  the  street. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  taking  her  arm,  "  walk  as  fast  as  you  can, 
and  you'll  get  into  the  step  that  you'll  have  to  wallv.,t;9Jpji5i.ue§s. 
with.  e\^BTy-TrrOTTrtlir^r'''''"~^o^a^^^^^^^  at  a  good 

round  pace,  towards  Cavendish  Square. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  uncle,"  said  the  young 
lady,  after  they  had  hurried  on  in  silence  for  some  time  ; 
"  very." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Ralph.  "  I  hope  you'll  do 
your  duty." 

"I  will  try  to  please,  uncle,"  replied  Kate:  "indeed 
I—" 

"  Don't  bedn^to  cry-,"  growled  Ralph  ;  "  I  hate  crying." 

"  ItTVerytooirsli,ilcnow,  uncle;"  began'poor  Kate.  " 

"It  is,"  replied  Ralph,  stopping  her  short,  "and  very 
affected  besides.     Let  me  see  no  more  of  it." 

Perhaps  this  was  not  the  best  way  to  dry  the  tears  of  a 
young  and  sensitive  female,  about  to  make  her  first  entry  on 
an  entirely  new  scene  of  life,  among  cold  and  uninterested 
strangers  ;  but  it  had  its  effect  notwithstanding.  Kate  colored 
deeply,  breathed  quickly  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
walked  on  with  a  firmer  and  more  determined  step. 

It  was  a  curious  contrast  to  see  how  the  timid  countn,'-  girl 
shrunk  through  the  crowd  that  hurried  up  and  down  the  streets, 


1 2  6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

giving  way  to  the  press  of  people,  and  clinging  closely  to 
Ralph  as  though  she  feared  to  lose  him  in  the  throng  ;  and 
how  the  stern  and  hard-featured  man  of  business  went  dog- 
gedly on7eTbowing  the  passengers  aside,  and  how  and  then  ex- 
changing a  gruff  salutation  with  some  passing  acquaintance, 
who  turned  to  look  back  upon  his  pretty  charge,  with  looks  ex- 
pressive of  surprise,  and  seemed  to  wonder  at  the  ill-assorted 
companionship.  But,  it  would  have  been  a  stranger  contrast 
still,  to  have  read  the  hearts  that  were  beating  side  by  side  ; 
to  have  laid  bare  the  gentle  innocence  of  the  one,  and  the 
ruggedLyjllainy  of  the  other ;  to  have  hung  upon  the  guileless 
thoughts  oF"tlie  affectionate  girl,  and  been  amazed  that,  among 
all  the  wily  plots  and  calculations  of  the  old  man,  there  should 
not  be  one  word  or  figure  denoting  thought  of  death  or  of  the 
grave.  But  so  it  was  ;  and  stranger  still — though  this  is  a 
thing  of  every  day — the  warm  young  heart  palpitated  with  a 
thousand  anxieties  and  apprehensions,  while  that  of  the  old 
worldly  man  lay  rusting  in  its  cell,  beating  only  as  a  piece  of 
cunning  mechanism,  and  yielding  no  one  throb  of  hope,  or 
fear,  or  love,  or  care,  for  any  living  thing. 

"  Uncle,''  said  Kate,  when  she  judged  they  must  be  near 
their  destination.  "  I  must  ask  one  question  of  you.  I  am 
to  live  at  home  ?  " 

"  At  home  !  "  replied  Ralph  ;  "  where's  that .'  " 

"  I  mean  with  my  mother — Ihe  widow"  said  Kate  emphat- 
ically. 

"You  will  live,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  here,"  rejoined 
Ralph  ;  "  for  here  you  will  take  your  meals  and  here  }'ou  will  be 
from  morning  till  night — occasionally  perhaps  till  morning 
again." 

"But  at  night,  I  mean,"  said  Kate;  "  I  cannot  leave  her, 
uncle.  I  must  have  some  place  that  I  can  call  a  home  ;  it 
will  be  wherever  she  is,  you  know,  and  may  be  a  very  humble 
one." 

"  May  be  !  "  said  Ralph,  walking  faster,  in  the  impatience 
provoked  by  the  remark,  "  must  be,  you  mean.  May  be  a 
humble  one  !    Is  the  girl  mad  ?  " 

"  The  word  slijoped  from  my  lips,  I  did  not  mean  it  in- 
deed," urged  Kate. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Ralph. 

"  But  my  question,  uncle  ;  you  have  not  answered  it." 

"  Why,  [  anticipated  something  of  the  kind,"  said  Ralph  ; 
"  and — though  I   object  very  strongly,  mind — have   provided 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  127 

against  it.  I  spoke  of  you  as  an  out-of-door  worker  ;  so  you 
will  go  to  this  home  that  may  be  humble,  every  night." 

There  was  comfort  in  this.  Kate  poured  forth  many 
thanks  for  her  uncle's  consideration,  which  Ralph  received  as 
if  he  had  deserved  them  all,  and  they  arri\ed  without  any 
further  conversation  at  the  dress-maker's  door,  which  dis- 
played a  very  large  plate,  with  Madame  Alantalini's  name 
and  occupation,  and  was  approached  by  a  handsome  flight  of 
steps.  There  was  a  shop  to  the  house,  but  it  was  let  off  to 
an  importer  of  otto  of  roses.  Madame  Mantalini's  show-rooms 
were  on  the  first  floor :  a  fact  which  was  notified  to  the  no- 
bility and  gentrv^,  by  the  casual  exhibition,  near  the  hand- 
somely curtained  windows,  of  two  or  three  elegant  bonnets  of 
the  newest  fashion,  and  some  costly  garments  in  the  most 
approved  taste. 

A  liveried  footman  opened  the  door,  and  in  reply  to 
Ralph's  inquiry'  whether  Madame  Mantalini  was  at  home, 
ushered  them,  through  a  handsome  hall  and  up  a  spacious 
staircase,  into  the  show  saloon,  which  comprised  two  spacious 
drawing-rooms,  and  exhibited  an  immense  variety  of  superb 
dresses  and  materials  for  dresses  :  some  arranged  on  stands, 
others  laid  carelessly  on  sofas,  and  others  again,  scattered 
over  the  carpet,  hanging  on  the  cheval  glasses,  or  mingling, 
in  some  other  way,  with  the  rich  furniture  of  various  descrip- 
tions, which  was  profusely  displayed. 

They  waited  here,  a  much  longer  time  than  was  agreeable 
to  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby,  who  eyed  the  gaudy  frippery  about 
him  with  very  little  concern,  and  was  at  length  about  to  pull 
the  bell,  when  a  gentleman  suddenly  popped  his  head  into 
the  room,  and,  seeing  somebody  there,  as  suddenly  popped  it 
out  again. 

"  Here.     Hollo  !  "  cried  Ralph.     "  Who's  that  t  " 

At  the  sound  of  Ralph's  voice,  the  head  reappeared,  and 
the  mouth,  displaying  a  veiy  long  row  of  very  white  teeth, 
uttered  in  a  mincing  tone  the  words,  "  Demmit.  What,  Nick- 
leby !  oh,  demmit  !"  Having  uttered  which  ejaculations,  the 
gentleman  advanced,  and  shook  hands  with  Ralph,  with  great 
warmth.  He  was  dressed  in  a  gorgeous  morning  gown,  with 
a  waistcoat  and  Turkish  trousers  of  the  same  pattern,  a  pink 
silk  neckerchief,  and  bright  green  slippers,  and  had  a  \  ery 
copious  watch-chain  wound  round  his  body.  Moreover,  he 
had  whiskers  and  a  moustache,  both  dyed  black  and  grace- 
fully curled. 


128  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

*'  Demmit,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  want  me,  do  you, 
demmit  ?  "  said  this  gentleman,  smiting  Ralph  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Ralph,  sarcastically. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  demmit,"  cried  the  gentleman  ;  when,  wheeling 
round  to  laugh  with  greater  elegance,  he  encountered  Kate 
Nickleby,  who  was  standing  near. 

"  My  niece,"  said  Ralph. 

"  I  remember,"  said  the  gentleman,  striking  his  nose  with 
the  knuckle  of  his  forefinger  as  a  chastening  for  his  forgetful- 
ness.  "  Demmit,  I  remember  what  you  come  for.  Step  this 
way,  Nickleby ;  my  dear,  will  you  follow  me  .-'  Ha  !  ha  ! 
They  all  follow  me,  Nickleby ;  always  did,  demmit,  always." 

Giving  loose  to  the  playfulness  of  his  imagination,  after 
this  fashion,  the  gentleman  led  the  way  to  a  private  sitting- 
room  on  the  second  floor,  scarcely  less  elegantly  furnished 
than  the  apartment  below,  where  the  presence  of  a  silver 
coffee-pot,  an  egg-shell,  and  sloppy  china  for  one,  seemed  to 
show  that  he  had  just  breakfasted. 

"  Sit  down,  my  dear,"  said  the  gentleman  :  first  staring 
Miss  Nickleby  out  of  countenance,  and  then  grinning  in 
de-light  at  the  achievement.  "This  cursed  high  room  takes 
one's  breath  away.  These  infernal  sky  parlors — I'm  afraid  I 
must  move,  Nickleby." 

"  I  would,  by  all  means,"  replied  Ralph,  looking  bitterly 
round. 

"  What  a  demd  rum  fellow  you  are,  Nickleby,"  said  the 
gentleman,  "  the  demdest,  longest-headed,  queerest-tempered 
old  coiner  of  gold  and  silver  ever  was — demmit." 

Having  complimented  Ralph  to  this  effect,  the  gentleman 
rang  the  bell,  and  stared  at  Miss  Nickleby  until  it  was 
answered,  when  he  left  off  to  bid  the  man  desire  his  mistress 
to  come  directly  ;  after  which,  he  began  again,  and  left  off  no 
more  until  Madame  Mantalini  appeared. 

Tlie  dress-maker  was  a  buxom  person,  handsomely  dressed 
and  rather  good  looking,  but  much  older  than  the  gentleman 
in  the  Turkish  trousers,  whom  she  had  w-edded  some  six 
months  before.  His  name  was  originally  Muntle  ;  but  it  had 
been  converted,  by  an  easy  transition,  into  Mantalini :  the 
lady  rightly  considering  that  an  English  appellation  would  be 
of  serious  injury  to  the  business.  He  hatl  married  on  his 
whiskers  ;  upon  which  property  he  had  previously  subsisted, 
in  a  genteel  manner,  for  some  years  ;  and  which  he  had  re- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


129 


cently  improved,  after  patient  cultivation,  by  the  addition  of  a 
moustache,  which  promised  to  secure  him  an  easy  independ- 
ence ;  his  share  in  the  labors  of  the  business  being  at  present 
confined  to  spending  the  money,  and  occasionally,  when  that 
ran  short,  driving  to  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  to  procure  discount 
— at  a  percentage — for  the  customers'  bills. 

"  My  life,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  '  what  a  demd  devil  of  a 
time  you  have  been  !  " 

"  I  didn't  even  know  Mr.  Nickleby  was  here,  my  love," 
said  Madame  Mantalini. 

"  Then  what  a  doubly  demd  infernal  rascal  that  footman 
must  be,  my  soul,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Mantalini. 

'■  My  dear,"  said  Madame,  "  that  is  entirely  your  fault." 

"  My  fault,  my  heart's  joy  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  returned  the  lady;  "what  can  you  expect, 
dearest,  if  you  will  not  correct  the  man  .?  " 

"  Correct  the  man,  my  soul's  delight !  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  sure  he  wants  speaking  to,  badly  enough," 
said  Madame,  pouting. 

"Then  do  not  vex  itself,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini ;  "he  shall 
be  horse-whipped  till  he  cries  out  demnebly."  With  this 
promise  Mr.  Mantalini  kissed  Madame  Mantalini,  and,  after 
that  performance,  Madame  Mantalini  pulled  Mr.  Mantalini 
playfully  by  the  ear:  which  done,  they  descended  to  busi- 
ness. 

"  Now,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph,  who  had  looked  on,  at  all 
this,  with  such  scorn  as  few  men  can  express  in  looks,  "  this 
is  my  niece." 

"Just  so,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  replied  Madame  Mantalini,  sur- 
veying Kate  from  head  to  foot,  and  back  again.  "  Can  you 
speak  French,  child  1  " 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  replied  Kate,  not  daring  to  look  up;  for 
she  felt  that  the  eyes  of  the  odious  man  in  the  dressing-gown 
were  directed  towards  her. 

"  Like  a  demd  native  ? "  asked  the  husband. 

Miss  Nickleby  offered  no  reply  to  this  inquiry,  but  turned 
her  back  upon  the  questioner,  as  if  addressing  herself  to  make 
answer  to  what  his  wife  might  demand. 

"We  keep  twenty  young  women  constantly  employed  in 
the  establishment,"  said  Madame. 

"  Indeed,  ma'am  !  "  replied  Kate,  timidly. 

"  Yes  ;  and  some  of  'em  demd  handsome,  too,"  said  the 
master. 

9 


I20  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Mantalini !  "  exclaimed  his  wife,  in  an  awful  voice. 
*'My  senses'  idol !"  said  Mantalini. 
*'  Do  you  wish  to  break  my  heart  ?  " 

"  Not  for  twenty  thousand  hemispheres  populated  with — 
with — with  little  ballet-dancers,"  replied  Mantalini  in  a  poeti- 
cal strain. 

"  Then  you  will,  if  you  persevere  in  that  mode  of  speak- 
ing," said  his  wife.  "  What  can  Mr.  Nickleby  think  when  he 
hears  you  ? " 

"Oh!  Nothing,  ma'am,  nothing,"  replied  Ralph.  "I 
know  his  amiable  nature,  and  yours, — mere  little  remarks 
that  give  a  zest  to  your  daily  intercourse — lovers'  quarrels 
that  add  sweetness  to  those  domestic  joys  which  promise  to 
last  so  long — that's  all ;  that's  all." 

If  an  iron  door  could  be  supposed  to  quarrel  with  its 
hinges,  and  to  make  a  firm  resolution  to  open  with  slow  obsti- 
nacy, and  grind  them  to  powder  in  the  process,  it  would  emit 
a  pleasanter  sound  in  so  doing,  then  did  these  words  in  the 
rough  and  bitter  voice  in  which  they  were  uttered  by  Ralph. 
Eveii  Mr.  Mantalini  felt  their  influence,  and  turning  affright- 
ed round,  exclaimed  :   "  What  a  demd  horrid  croaking  !  " 

"  You  will  pay  no  attention,  if  you  please,  to  what  Mr. 
Mantalini  says,"  observed  his  wife,  addressing  Miss  Nickleby. 

"I  do  not,  ma'am,"  said  Kate,  with  quiet  contempt. 

"  Mr.  Mantalini  knows  nothing  whatever  about  any  of  the 
young  women,"  continued  Madame,  looking  at  her  husband, 
and  speaking  to  Kate.  "  If  he  has  seen  any  of  them,  he  must 
have  seen  them  in  the  street,  going  to,  or  returning  from,  their 
work,  and  not  here.  He  was  never  even  in  the  room.  I  do 
not  allow  it.  What  hours  of  work  have  you  been  accustomed 
to?" 

"  I  have  never  yet  been  accustomed  to  work  at  all,  ma'am," 
replied  Kate,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  For  which  reason  she'll  work  all  the  better  now,"  said 
Ralph,  putting  in  a  word,  lest  this  confession  should  injure  the 
negotiation. 

"  I  hope  so,"  returned  Madame  Mantalini  ;  "  our  hours 
are  from  nine  to  nine,  with  extra  work  when  we're  very  full  of 
business,  for  which  I  allow  payment  as  over-time." 

Kate  bowed  her  head,  to  intimate  that  she  heard,  and  was 
satisfied. 

"Your  meals,"  continued  Madame  Mantalini,  "that  is, 
dinner  and  tea,  you  will  take  here.     I  should  think  your-wages 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  131 

would  average  from  five  to  seven  shillings  a  week  ;  but  I  can't 
give  you  any  certain  information  on  that  point,  until  I  see 
what  you  can  do." 

Kate  bowed  her  head  again. 

"  If  you're  ready  to  come,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  "  you 
had  better  begin  on  Monday  morning  at  nine  exactly,  and 
Miss  Knag  the  forewoman  shall  then  have  directions  to  try 
you  with  some  easy  work  at  first.  Is  there  anything  more, 
Mr.  Nickleby  t  " 

"  Nothing  more,  ma'am,"  replied  Ralph,  rising. 

"  Then  I  believe  that's  all,"  said  the  lady.  Having  arrived 
at  this  natural  conclusion,  she  looked  at  the  door,  as  if  she 
wished  to  be  gone,  but  hesitated  notwithstanding,  as  though 
unwillinGf  to  leave  to  Mr.  Mantalini  the  sole  honor  of  showing 
them  down  stairs.  Ralph  relieved  her  from  her  perplexity  by 
taking  his  departure  without  delay  :  Madame  Mantalini  mak- 
ing many  gracious  inquiries  why  he  never  came  to  see  them  ; 
and  Mr.  Mantalini  anathematizing  the  stairs  with  great  volu- 
bility as  he  followed  them  down,  in  the  hope  of  inducing 
Kate  to  look  round, — a  hope,  however,  which  was  destined  to 
remain  ungratified. 

"There!"  said  Ralph  when  they  got  into  the  street; 
"  now,  yQu're  provided  for."  Kate  was  about  to  thank  him 
agam,  but  he  slopped  her. 

"  I  had  some  idea,"  he  said,  "  of  providing  for  your  mother 
in  a  pleasant  part  of  the  country — (he  had  a  presentation  to 
some  alms-houses  on  the  borders  of  Cornwall,  which  had 
occurred  to  him  more  than  once) — but  as  you  want  to  be  to- 
gether, I  must  do  something  else  for  her.  She  has  a  little 
money  ?  " 

"A  very  little,"  replied  Kate. 

"  A  little  will  go  a  long  way  if  it's  used  sparingly,"  said 
Ralph.  "  She  must  see  how  long  she  can  make  it  last,  living 
rent  free.     You  leave  your  lodgings  on  Saturday  ?  " 

"  You  told  us  to  do  so,  uncle." 

"  Yes  ;  there  is  a  house  empty  1;hatbelQn2-s  to  me,  which 
I  can  put  you  into,  frtTTt  isTet,  and  then,  if  nothing  else  turns 
up,  perhaps  I  shall  have  another.     You  must  live  there." 

"  Is  it  far  from  here,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Kate. 

"Pretty  well,"  said  Ralph;  "in  another  quarter  of  the 
town — at  the  East  end,  but  I'll  send  my  clerk  down  to  you,  at 
five  o'clock  on  Saturday,  to  take  you  there.  Good-by.  You 
know  your  way?     Straighten." 


1,2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Coldly  shaking  his  niece's  hand,  Ralph  left  her  at  the  top 
of  Regent  Street,  and  turned  down  a  by-thoroughfare,  intent 
on  schemes  of  monev:getting.  Kate  walked  sadly  back  to 
theirJo  agings  in  tne  Strand. 

•4 


CHAPTER  XI. 


NEWMAN     NOGGS     INDUCTS      MRS.     AND    MISS     NICKLEBY     INTO 
THEIR    NEW    DWELLING    IN    THE    CITY, 

Miss  Nickleby's  reflections,  as  she  wended  her  way  home- 
wards, were  of  that  desponding  nature  which  the  occurrences 
of  the  morning  had  been  sufficiently  calculated  to  awaken. 
Her  uncle's  was  not  a  manner  likely  to  dispel  any  doubts  or 
apprehensions  she  might  have  formed,  in  the  outset,  neither 
was  the  glimpse  she  had  had  of  Madame  Mantalini's  establish- 
ment, by  any  means  encouraging.  It  was  with  many  gloomy 
forebodings  and  misgivings,  therefore,  that  she  looked  for- 
ward, with  a  heavy  heart,  to  the  opening  of  her  new  career. 

If  her  mother's  consolations  could  have  restored  her  to  a 
pleasanter  and  more  enviable  state  of  mind,  there  were  abun- 
dance of  them  to  produce  the  effect.  By  the  time  Kate 
reached  home,  the  good  lady  had  called  to  mind,  two  authentic 
cases  of  milliners  who  had  been  possessed  of  considerable 
property,  though  whether  they  had  acquired  it  all  in  business, 
or  had  had  a  capital  to  start  with,  or  had  been  lucky  and  mar- 
ried to  advantage,  she  could  not  exactly  remember.  How- 
ever, as  she  very  logically  remarked,  there  must  have  been 
some  young  person  in  that  way  of  business  who  had  made  a 
fortune  without  having  anything  to  begin  with,  and  that  being 
taken  for  granted,  why  should  not  Kate  do  the  same  ?  Miss 
La  Creevy,  who  was  a  member  of  the  little  council,  ventured 
to  insinuate  some  doubts  relative  to  the  probability  of  Miss 
Nickleby's  arriving  at  this  happy  consummation  in  the  com- 
pass of  an  ordinar}'  lifetime ;  but  the  good  lady  set  that  ques- 
tion entirely  at  rest,  by  informing  them  that  she  had  a  pre- 
sentiment on  the  subject — a  species  of  second-sight  with  which 
she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  clenching  every  argument  with 
the  deceased  Mr.  Nickleby,  and,  in  nine  cases  and  three  quar- 
ters out  of  every  ten,  determining  in  the  wrong  way. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


^ZZ 


"  I  am  afraid  it  is  an  unhealthy  occupation,"  said  Miss  La 
Creevy.  "  I  recollect  getting  three  young  milliners  to  sit  to 
me,  when  I  first  began  to  paint,  and  I  remember  that  they 
were  all  very  pale  and  sickly." 

"  Oh  !  that's  not  a  general  rule  by  any  means,"  observed 
Mrs.  Nickleby ;  "  for  I  remember,  as  well  as  if  it  was  only 
yesterday,  employing  one  that  I  was  particularly  recom- 
mended to,  to  make  me  a  scarlet  cloak  at  the  time  when  scar- 
let cloaks  were  fashionable,  and  she  had  a  very  red  face — a- 
very  red  face,  indeed." 

"  Perhaps  she  drank,"  suggested  Miss  La  Creevy. 

"  I  don't  know  how  that  may  have  been,"  returned  Mrs. 
Nickleby  :  "  but  I  know  she  had  a  very  red  face,  so  your  argu- 
ment goes  for  nothing." 

In  this  manner,  and  with  like  powerful  reasoning,  did  the 
worthy  matron  meet  every  little  objection  that  presented  itself 
to  the  new  scheme  of  the  morning.  Happy  Mrs.  Nickleby ! 
A  project  had  but  to  be  new,  and  it  came  home  to  her  mind, 
brightly  varnished  and  gilded  as  a  glittering  toy. 

This  question  disposed  of,  Kate  communicated  her  uncle's 
desire  about  the  empty  house,  to  which  Mrs.  Nickleby  assented 
with  equal  readiness,  characteristically  remarking,  that,  on  the 
fine  evenings,  it  would  be  a  pleasant  amusement  for  her  to  walk 
to  the  West  end  to  fetch  her  daughter  home ;  and  no  less 
characteristically  forgetting,  that  there  were  such  things  as 
wet  nights  and  bad  weather  to  be  encountered  in  almost  every 
week  of  the  year. 

"  I  shall  be  sorry — truly  sorr}'  to  leave  you,  my  kind  friend," 
said  Kate,  on  whom  the  good  feeling  of  the  poor  miniature- 
painter  had  made  a  deep  impression. 

"  You  shall  not  shake  me  off,  for  all  that,"  replied  Miss  La 
Creevy,  with  as  much  spiightliness  as  she  could  assume.  "  I 
shall  see  you  very  often,  and  come  and  hear  how  you  get  on  ; 
and  if,  in  all  London,  or  all  the  wide  world  besides,  there  is  no 
other  heart  that  takes  an  interest  in  your  welfare,  there  will 
be  one  little  lonely  woman  that  prays  for  it  night  and  day." 

With  this,  the  poor  soul,  who  had  a  heart  big  enough  for 
Gog,  the  guardian  genius  of  London,  and  enough  to  spare  for 
Magog  to  boot,  after  making  a  great  many  extraordinary  faces 
which  would  have  secured  her  an  ample  fortune,  could  she 
have  transferred  them  to  ivo^  or  canvass,  sat  down  in  a  cor- 
ner, and  had  what  she  termed  "  a  real  good  cr}-." 

But  no  crying,  or  talking,  or  hoping,  or  fearing,  could  keep 


134 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


off  the  dreaded  Saturday  afternoon,  or  Newman  Noggs  either  ; 
who,  punctual  to  his  time,  Hmped  up  to  the  door,  and  breathed 
a  whiff  of  cordial  gin  through  the  keyhole,  exactly  as  such  of 
the  church  clocks  in  the  ncicihborhood  as  ag^reed  amonc:  them- 
selves  about  the  time,  struck  fiv'e.  Newman  waited  for  the 
last  stroke,  and  then  knocked. 

"  From  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby,"  said  Newman,  announcing 
his  errand,  when  he  got  up  stairs,  with  all  possible  brevity. 

"We  shall  be  ready  directly,"  said  Kate.  "We  have  not 
much  to  carry,  but  I  fear  we  must  have  a  coach." 

"  I'll  get  one,"  replied  Newman. 

"  Indeed  you  shall  not  trouble  yourself,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

"  I  will,"  said  Newman. 

"  I  can't  suffer  you  to  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

"  You  can't  help  it,"  said  Newman. 

"Not  help  it!" 

"  No  ;  I  thought  of  it  as  I  came  along  ;  but  didn't  get  one, 
thinking  you  mightn't  be  ready.  I  think  of  a  great  many 
things.     Nobody  can  prevent  that." 

"  O  yes,  I  understand  you,  Mr.  Noggs,"  said  Mrs.  Nickle- 
by. "  Our  thoughts  are  free,  of  course.  Everybody's  thoughts 
are  their  own,  clearly." 

"They  wouldn't  be,  if  some  people  had  their  way,"  mut- 
tered Newman. 

"  Well,  no  more  they  would,  Mr.  Noggs,  and  that's  very 
true,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Some  people  to  be  sure  are 
such — how's  your  master  ?  " 

Newman  darted  a  meaning  glance  at  Kate,  and  replied 
with  a  strong  emphasis  on  the  last  word  of  his  answer,  that 
Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  was  well,  and  sent  his  love. 

"  I  am  sure  we  are  very  much  obliged  to  him,"  observed 
Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  Very,"  said  Newman.     "  I'll  tell  him  so." 

It  was  no  ver}'  easy  matter  to  mistake  Newman  Noggs, 
after  having  once  seen  him,  and  as  Kate,  attracted  by  the 
singularity  of  his  manner  (in  which  on  this  occasion,  however, 
there  was  something  respectful  and  even  delicate,  notwith- 
standing the  abruptness  of  his  speech),  looked  at  him  more 
r'osely,  she  recollected  having  caught  a  passing  glimpse  of 
that  strange  figure  before. 

"Excuse  my  curiosity,"  she  said,  "but  did  I  not  see  you  in 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  135 

the  coachyard,  on  the  morning  my  brother  went  away  to  York- 
shire ? " 

Newman  cast  a  wistful  glance  on  Mrs.  Nickleby,  and  said 
"No,"  most  unblushingly. 

"  No  ! "    exclaimed  Kate,   "  I  should  have  said  so   any- 
where." 

"  You'd  have  said  wrong,"  rejoined  Newman.  "  It's  the 
first  time  I've  been  out  for  three  weeks.     I've  had  the  gout." 

Newman  was  ver)%  very  far  from  having  the  appearance  of 
a  gouty  subject,  and  so  Kate  could  not  help  thinking  ;  but  the 
conference  was  cut  short  by  Mrs.  Nickleby's  insisting  on  hav- 
ing the  door  shut,  lest  Mr.  Noggs  should  take  cold,  and  further 
persisting  in  sending  the  servant  girl  for  a  coach,  for  fear  he 
should  bring  on  another  attack  of  his  disorder.  To  both  con- 
ditions, Newman  was  compelled  to  yield.  Presently,  the  coach 
came ;  and,  after  many  sorrowful  farewells,  and  a  great  deal 
of  running  backwards  and  forwards  across  the  pavement  on 
the  part  of  Miss  La  Creevy,  in  the  course  of  which  the  yellow 
turban  came  into  violent  contact  with  sundry  foot  passengers, 
it  (that  is  to  say  the  coach,  not  the  turban)  went  away  again, 
with  the  two  ladies  and  their  luggage  inside  ;  and  Newman, 
despite  all  Mrs.  Nickleby's  assurances  that  it  would  be  his 
death — on  the  box  beside  the  driver. 

They  went  into  the  City,  turning  down  by  the  river  side  ; 
and,  after  a  long  and  very  slow  drive,  the  streets  being  crowded 
at  that  hour  with  vehicles  of  every  kind,  stopped  in  front  of  a 
large  old  dingy  house  in  Thames  Street :  the  door  and  windows 
of  which  we're  so  bespattered  with  mud,  that  it  would  have 
appeared  to  have  been  uninhabited  for  years. 

The  door  of  this  deserted  mansion  Newman  opened  with 
a  key  which  he  took  out  of  his  hat — in  which,  by  the  bye,  in 
consequence  of  the  dilapidated  state  of  his  pockets,  he  de- 
posited ever>'thing,  and  would  most  likely  have  carried  his 
money  if  he  had  had  any — and  the  coach  being  discharged, 
he  led  the  way  into  the  interior  of  the  mansion. 

Old,  and  gloomy,  and  black,  in  truth  it  was,  and  sullen  and 
dark  were  the  rooms,  once  so  bustling  with  life  and  enterprise. 
There  was  a  wharf  behind,  opening  on  the  Thames.  An 
empty  dog-kennel,  some  bones  of  animals,  fragments  of  iron 
hoops,  and  staves  of  old  casks,  lay  strewn  about,  but  no  life 
was  stirring  there.     It  was  a  picture  of  cold,  silent  decay. 

"  This  house  depresses  and  chills  one,"  said  Kate,  '•  and 
seems  as  if  some  blight  had  fallen  on  it.     If  I  were  supersti- 


136  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

tious,  I  should  be  almost  inclined  to  believe  that  some  dread- 
ful crime  had  been  perpetrated  within  these  old  walls,  and 
that  the  place  had  never  prospered  since.  How  frowning  and 
how  dark  it  looks  !  " 

"  Lord,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  don't  talk  in 
that  way,  or  you'll  frighten  me  to  death." 

"  It  is  only  my  foolish  fancy,  mama,"  said  Kate,  forcing  a 
smile. 

"  Well,  then,  my  love,  I  wish  you  would  keep  your  foolish 
fancy  to  yourself,  and  not  wake  up  my  foolish  fancy  to  keep 
it  company,"  retorted  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Why  didn't  you  think 
of  all  this  before — you  are  so  careless — we  might  have  asked 
Miss  La  Creevy  to  keep  us  company  or  borrowed  a  dog,  or  a 
thousand  things — but  it  always  was  the  way,  and  was  just  the 
same  with  your  poor  dear  father.  Unless  I  thought  of  every- 
thing  "  This  was  Mrs.  Nickleby's  usual  commencement  of 

a  general  lamentation,  running  through  a  dozen  or  so  of  com- 
plicated sentences  addressed  to  nobody  in  particular,  and  into 
which  she  now  launched  until  her  breath  was  exhausted. 

Newman  appeared  not  to  hear  these  remarks,  but  preceded 
them  to  a  couple  of  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  which  some  kind 
of  attempt  had  been  made  to  render  habitable.  In  one,  were 
a  few  chairs,  a  table,  an  old  hearth-rug,  and  some  faded  baize  ; 
and  a  fire  was  ready  laid  in  the  grate.  In  the  other,  stood  an 
old  tent  bedstead,  and  a  few  scanty  articles  of  chamber  furni- 
ture. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  trying  to  be  pleased, 
"  now  isn't  this  thoughtful  and  considerate  of  your  uncle  ? 
Why,  we  should  not  have  had  anything  but  the  bed  we  bought 
yesterday,  to  lie  down  upon,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  his  thought- 
fulness  !  " 

"  Veiy  kind,  indeed,"  replied  Kate,  looking  round. 

Newman  Noggs  did  not  say  that  he  had  hunted  up  the  old 
furniture  they  saw,  from  attic  and  celler  ;  or  that  he  had  taken 
in  the  halfpenny-worth  of  milk  for  tea  that  stood  upon  a 
shelf,  or  filled  the  rusty  kettle  on  the  hob,  or  collected  the 
wood  chips  from  the  wharf,  or  begged  the  coals.  But  the  no- 
tion of  Ralph  Nickleby  having  directed  it  to  be  done,  tickled 
his  fancy  so  much,  that  he  could  not  refrain  from  cracking  all 
his  ten  fingers  in  succession  ;  at  which  performance  Mrs. 
Nickleby  was  rather  startled  at  first,  but  supposing  it  to  be  in 
some  remote  manner  connected  with  the  gout,  did  not  remark 
upon. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  137 

"  We  need  detain  you  no  longer,  I  think,"  said  Kate. 

"  Is  there  nothing  1  can  do  ?  "  asked  Newman. 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,"  rejoined  Miss  Nickleb3\ 

"Perhaps,  my  dear,  Mr.  Noggs  would  like  to  drink  our 
healths,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  fumbling  in  her  reticule  for 
some  small  coin. 

"  I  think,  mama,"  said  Kate,  hesitating  and  remarking 
Newman's  averted  face,  "  you  would  hurt  his  feelings  if  you 
offered  it." 

Newman  Noggs,  bowing  to  the  young  lady  more  like  a 
gentleman  than  the  miserable  wretch  he  seemed,  placed  his 
hand  upon  his  breast,  and,  pausing  for  a  moment,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  struggles  to  speak  but  is  uncertain  what  to  say, 
quitted  the  room. 

As  the  jarring  echoes  of  the  heavy  house-door,  closing  on 
its  latch,  reverberated  dismally  through  the  building,  Kate  felt 
half  tempted  to  call  him  back,  and  beg  him  to  remain  a  little 
while  ;  but  she  was  ashamed  to  own  her  fears,  and  Newman 
Noggs  was  on  his  way  homewards. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHEREBY  THE  READER  WILL  BE  ENABLED  TO  TRACE  THE 
FURTHER  COURSE  OF  MISS  FANNY  SQUEERS'S  LOVE,  AND 
TO    ASCERTAIN    WHETHER    IT    RAN    SMOOTH    OR    OTHERWISE. 


It  was  5  fortunate  circumstance  for  Miss  Fanny  Squeers 
that  when  her  worthy  papa  returned  home  on  the  night  of  the 
small  tea-party,  he  was  what  the  initiated  term  "  too  far  gone  " 
to  observe  the  numerous  tokens  of  extreme  vexation  of  spirit 
which  were  plainly  visible  in  her  countenance.  Being,  how- 
ever, of  a  rather  violent  and  quarrelsome  mood  in  his  cups,  it 
is  not  impossible  that  he  might  have  fallen  out  with  her,  either 
on  this  or  some  imaginary  topic,  if  the  young  lady  had  not, 
with  a  foresight  and  prudence  highly  commendable,  kept  a 
boy  up,  on  purpose,  to  bear  the  first  brunt  of  the  good  gentle- 
man's anger;  which,  having  vented  itself  in  a  variety  of  kicks 
and  cuffs,  subsided  sufficiently  to  admit  of  his  being  per- 
suaded to  go  to  bed.  Which  he  did  with  his  boots  on,  and  an 
umbrella  under  his  arm. 


I3S 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


The  hungry  serv^ant  attended  Miss  Squeers  in  her  own 
room  according  to  custom,  to  curl  her  hair,  perform  the  other 
little  offices  of  her  toilet,  and  administer  as  much  flattery  as 
she  could  get  up,  for  the  purpose  \  for  Miss  Squeers  was  quite 
lazy  enough  (and  sufficiently  vain  and  frivolous  withal)  to 
have  been  a  fine  lady  ;  and  it  was  only  the  arbitrary  distinctions 
of  rank  and  station  which  prevented  her  from  being  one. 

"  How  lovely  your  hair  do  curl  to-night,  miss  !  "  said  the 
handmaiden.  "  I  declare  if  it  isn't  a  pity  and  a  shame  to 
brush  it  out  !  " 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  replied  Miss  Squeers,  wrathfully. 

Some  considerable  experience  prevented  the  girl  from  be- 
ing at  all  surprised  at  any  outbreak  of  ill-temper  on  the  part 
of  Miss  Squeers.  Having  a  half  preception  of  what  had  oc- 
curred in  the  course  of  the  evening,  she  changed  her  mode  of 
making  herself  agreeable,  and  proceeded  on  the  indirect  tack. 

"  Well,  I  couldn't  help  saying,  miss,  if  you  was  to  kill  me 
for  it,"  said  the  attendant,  "that  I  never  see  nobody  look  so 
vulgar  as  Miss  Price  this  night." 

Miss  Squeers  sighed,  and  composed  herself  to  listen. 
*^"  I  know  it's  very  wrong  in  me  to  say  so,  miss,"  continued 
the  girl,   delighted  to  see  the    impression"  she  was  making, 
*'  Miss  Price  being  a  friend  of  your'n,  and  all  ;  but   she  do  7 
dress  herself  out  so,  and  go  on  in  such  a  manner  to  get  no- 
ticed, that — oh — well,  if  people  only  saw  themselves  !  'T"" 

^"What  do  you  mean,  Phib  ?  "  a<;].-pd_Mjt;q  Sg^i^^pr'^  ^r^r.LM1■.fr 
iQj:tr  own  little  glass,  where,  like  most  of  uSiXhe._sa\it=-not 
herself,  but  the  reflection  of  some  pleasant  image  in  her  own 
brain.     "  How  you  talk  !  "  ^ 

"Talk,  miss  !  It's  enough  to  make  a  Tom  cat  talk  French 
grammar,  only  to  see  how  she  tosses  her  head,"  replied  the 
handmaid. 

"  She  does  toss  her  head,"  observed  Miss  Squeers,  with  an 
air  of  abstraction. 

"  So  vain,  and  so  very — very  plain,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Poor  'Tilda  !  "  sighed  Miss  Squeers,  compassionately. 

"  And  always  laying  herself  out  so,  to  get  to  be  admired," 
pursued  the  servant.     "Oh,  dear!     It's  positive  indelicate." 

"  I  can't  al'ow  you  to  talk  in  that  way,  Phib,"  said  Miss 
Squeers.  "  Tilda's  friends  are  low  people,  and  if  she  don't 
know  any  better,  it's  their  fault,  and  not  hers." 

"  Well,  but  you  know,  miss,"  said  Phoebe,  for  which  name 
"  Phib  "  was  used  as  a  patronizing  abbreviation,  "  if  she  was 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


139 


only  to  take  copy  by  a  friend — oh  !  if  she  only  knew  how 
wrong  she  was,  and  would  but  set  herself  right  by  you,  what  a 
nice  young  woman  she  might  be  in  time  !  " 

"Phib,"  rejoined  Miss  Squeers,  with  a  stately  air,  "it's 
not  proper  for  me  to  hear  these  comparisons  drawn ;  they 
make  'I'ilda  look  a  coarse  improper  sort  of  person,  and  it 
seems  unfriendly  in  me  to  listen  to  them.  I  would  rather  you 
dropped  the  subject,  Phib  ;  at  the  same  time,  I  must  say,  that 
if  'Tilda  Price  would  take  pattern  by  somebody — not  me  par- 
ticularly  " 

"  O  yes  ;  you,  miss,"  interposed  Phib. 
"  Well,  me,  Phib,  if  you  will  have  it  so,"  said  Miss  Squeers. 
"  I  must  say,  that  if  she  would,  she  would  be  all  the  better  for 
it." 

"  So  somebody  else  thinks,  or  I  am  much  mistaken,"  said 
the  girl  mysteriously. 

"What  do  you  mean  t  "  demanded  Miss  Squeers. 
"Never  mind,   miss,"    replied  the  girl;  "/ know  what  I 
know  ;  that's  all." 

"  Phib,"  said  Miss  Squeers  dramatically,  "  I  insist  upon 
your  explaining  yourself.  What  is  this  dark  mystery  .■'  Speak." 
"  Why,  if  you  will  have  it,  miss,  it's  this,"  said  the  servant 
girl.  "  Mr.  John  Browdie  thinks  as  you  think  ;  and  if  he 
wasn't  too  far  gone  to  do  it  creditable,  he'd  be  very  glad  to  be 
off  with  Miss  Price,  and  on  with  Miss  Squeers." 

"Gracious  Heavens  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Squeers,  clasping 
her  hands  with  great  dignity.     "  What  is  this  }  " 

"Truth,  ma'am,  and  nothing  but  truth,"  replied  the  artful 
Phib. 

"  What  a  situation  !  "  cried  Miss  Squeers  ;  "  on  the  brink 
of  unconsciously  destroying  the  peace  and  happiness  of  my 
own  'Tilda.  What  is  the  reason  that  men  fall  in  love  with 
me,  whether  I  like  it  or  not,  and  desert  their  chosen  intendeds 
for  my  sake  I  " 

"  Because  they  can't  help  it,  miss,"  replied  the  girl ;  "  the 
reason's  plain."  (If  Miss  Squeers  were  the  reason,  it  was 
very  plain.) 

"  Never  let  me  hear  of  it  again,"  retorted  Miss  Squeers. 
"  Never  !  Do  you  hear  ?  'Tilda  Price  has  faults — many 
faults — but  I  wish  her  well,  and  above  all  I  wish  her  married  ; 
for  I  think  it  highly  desirable — most  desirable  from  the  very 
nature  of  her  failings — that  she  should  be  married  as  soon  as 
possible.     No,  Phib.     Let  her  have  Mr.  Browdie.     I  may  pity 


I40  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

hvn,  poor  fellow  :  but  I  have   a  great  regard  for  'Tilda,  and 
only  hope  she  may  make  a  better  wife  than  I  think  she  will." 

With  this  effusion  of  feeling,  Miss  Squeers  went  to  bed. 

Spite  is  a  little  word  ;  but  it  represents  as  strange  a  jumble 
of  feelings,  and  compound  of  discords,  as  any  polysyllable  in 
the  language.  Miss  Squeers  knew  as  well  in  her  heart  of 
hearts,  that  what  the  miserable  serving  girl  had  said  was  sheer, 
coarse,  lying  flattery,  as  did  the  girl  herself ;  yet  the  mere 
opportunity  of  venting  a  little  ill-nature  against  the  offending 
Miss  Price,  and  affecting  to  compassionate  her  weaknesses 
and  foibles,  though  only  in  the  presence  of  a  solitary  depen- 
dant, was  almost  as  great  a  relief  to  her  spleen  as  if  the  whole 
had  been  gospel  truth.  Nay,  more.  We  have  such  extraor- 
dinary powers  of  persuasion  when  they  are  exerted  over  our- 
selves, that  Miss  Squeers  felt  quite  high-minded  and  great 
after  her  noble  renunciation  of  John  Browdie's  hand,  and 
looked  down  upon  her  rival  with  a  kind  of  holy  calmness  and 
tranquillity,  that  had  a  mighty  effect  in  soothing  her  ruffled 
feelino^s. 

This  happy  state  of  mind  had  some  influence  in  bringing 
about  a  reconciliation  ;  for,  when  a  knock  came  at  the  front 
door  next  day,  and  the  miller's  daughter  was  announced,  Miss 
Squeers  betook  herself  to  the  parlor  in  a  Christian  frame  of 
spirit,  perfectly  beautiful  to  behold. 

"  Well,  Fanny,"  said  the  miller's  daughter,  "  you  see  I 
have  come  to  see  you,  although  we  had  some  words  last 
night." 

"  I  pity  your  bad  passions,  'Tilda,"  replied  Miss  Squeers  ; 
"  but  I  bear  no  malice.     I  am  above  it." 

"  Don't  be  cross,  Fanny,"  said  Miss  Price.  "  I  have  come 
to  tell  you  something  that  I  know  will  please  you." 

"  What  may  that  be,  'Tilda  ?  "  demanded  Miss  Squeers ; 
screwing  up  her  lips,  and  looking  as  if  nothing  in  earth,  air, 
fire,  or  water,  could  afford  her  the  slightest  gleam  of  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  This,"  rejoined  Miss  Price.  "  After  we  left  here  last 
night,  John  and  I  had  a  dreadful  quarrel." 

"  That  doesn't  please  me,"  said  Miss  Squeers — relaxing 
into  a  smile  though. 

"  Lor  !  I  wouldn't  think  so  bad  of  you  as  to  suppose  it 
it  did,"  rejoined  her  companion.     "That's  not  it." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Miss  Squeers,  relapsing  into  melancholy. 
"  Go  on." 


NICHOLAS  NrCKLEBY.  141 

After  a  great  deal  of  wrangling,  and  saying  we  would 
never  see  each  other  any  more,"  continued  Miss  Price,  "we 
made  it  up,  and  this  morning  John  went  and  wrote  our  names 
down  to  be  put  up,  for  the  first  time,  next  Sunday,  so  we  shall 
be  married  in  three  weeks,  and  I  give  you  notice  to  get  your 
frock  made." 

There  was  mingled  gall  and  honey  in  this  intelligence. 
The  prospect  of  the  friend's  being  married  so  soon,  was  the 
gall,  and  the  certainty  of  her  not  entertaining  serious  designs 
upon  Nicholas  was  the  honey.  Upon  the  whole,  the  sweet 
greatly  preponderated  over  the  bitter,  so  Miss  Squeers  said 
she  would  get  the  frock  made,  and  that  she  hoped  'Tilda  might 
be  happy,  though  at  the  same  time  she  didn't  know,  and  would 
not  have  her  build  too  much  upon  it,  for  men  were  strange 
creatures,  and  a  great  many  married  women  were  very  miser- 
able, and  wished  themselves  single  again  with  all  their  hearts  ; 
to  which  condolences  Miss  Squeers  added  others  equally  cal- 
culated to  raise  her  friend's  spirits  and  promote  her  cheerful- 
ness of  mind. 

"  But  come  now,  Fanny,"  said  Miss  Price.  "  I  want  to 
have  a  word  or  two  with  you  about  young  Mr.  Nickleby." 

"  He  is  nothing  to  me,"  interrupted  Miss  Squeers,  with 
hysterical  symptoms.     "  I  despise  him  too  much  1 " 

"  Oh,  you  don't  mean  that,  I  am  sure  ?  "  replied  her  friend. 
"Confess,  Fanny;  don't  you  like  him  now?" 

Without  returning  any  direct  reply.  Miss  Squeers,  all  at 
once,  fell  into  a  paroxysm  of  spiteful  tears,  and  exclaimed  that 
she  was  a  wretched,  neglected,  miserable,  castaway. 

"  I  hate  everybody,"  said  Miss  Squeers,  "and  I  wish  that 
everybody  was  dead — that  I  do." 

"Dear,  dear,"  said  Miss  Price,  quite  moved  by  this  avowal 
of  misanthropical  sentiments.  "You  are  not  serious,  I  am 
sure." 

"Yes,  I  am,"  rejoined  Miss  Squeers,  tying  tight  knots  in 
her  pocket-handkerchief,  and  clenching  her  teeth.  "  And  I 
wish  /was  dead  too.     There  !  " 

"  Oh  !  you'll  think  very  differently  in  another  five  min- 
utes," said  Matilda.  "  How  much  better  to  take  him  into 
favor  again,  than  to  hurt  yourself  by  going  on  in  that  way. 
Wouldn't  it  be  much  nicer,  now,  to  have  him  all  to  yourself 
on  good  terms,  in  a  company-keeping,  love-making,  pleasant 
sort  of  manner .'"' 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  it  wOuld,"  sobbed  Miss  Squeers. 


142 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  Oh  !  'Tilda  how  could  j^ou  have  acted  so  mean  and  dis- 
honorable !  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  you,  if  anybody 
had  told  me." 

"  Heyday  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Price,  giggling.  "  One  would 
suppose  I  had  been  murdering  somebody  at  least." 

"  Very  nigh  as  bad,"  said  Miss  Squeers  passionately. 

"  And  all  this,  because  I  happen  to  have  enough  of  good 
looks  to  make  people  civil  to  me,"  cried  Miss  Price.  "  Persons 
don't  make  their  own  faces,  and  it's  no  more  my  fault  if  mine 
is  a  good  one  than  it  is  other  people's  fault  if  theirs  is  a  bad 
one." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  shrieked  Miss  Squeers,  in  her 
shrillest  tone  ;  "or  you'll  make  me  slap  you,  'Tilda,  and  after- 
wards I  should  be  sorry  for  it !  " 

It  is  needless  to  say,  that,  by  this  time,  the  temper  of  each 
young  lady  was  in  some  slight  degree  affected  by  the  tone  of 
her  conversation,  and  that  a  dash  of  personality  was  infused 
into  the  altercation,  in  consequence.  Ind^d,  the  quarrel, 
from  slight  beginnings,  rose  to  a  considerable  height,  and  was 
assuming  a  very  violent  complexion,  when  both  parties,  fall- 
ing into  a  great  passion  of  tears,  exclaimed  simultaneously, 
that  they  had  never  thought  of  being  spoken  to  in  that  way  : 
which  explanation,  leading  to  a  remonstrance,  gradually 
brought  on  an  explanation  ;  and  the  upshot  was,  that  they  fell 
into  each  other's  arms  and  vowed  eternal  friendship ;  the 
oocasion  in  question,  making  the  fifty-second  time  of  repeating 
the  same  impressive  ceremony  within  a  twelvemonth. 

Perfect  amicability  being  thus  restored,  a  dialogue  natur- 
ally ensued  upon  the  number  and  nature  of  the  garments 
which  would  be  indispensable  for  Miss  Price's  entrance  into 
the  holy  state  of  matrimony,  when  Miss  Squeers  clearly  showed 
that  a  great  many  more  than  the  miller  could,  or  would, 
afford,  were  absolutely  necessar)',  and  could  not  decently  be 
dispensed  with.  The  young  lady  then,  by  an  easy  digression, 
led  the  discourse  to  her  own  wardrobe,  and  after  recounting 
its  principal  beauties,  at  some  length,  took  her  friend  up  stairs 
to  make  inspection  thereof.  The  treasures  of  two  drawers 
and  a  closet  having  been  displayed,  and  all  the  smaller  articles 
tried  on,  it  was  time  for  Miss  Price  to  return  home  ;  and  as 
she  had  been  in  raptures  with  all  the  frocks,  and  had  been 
stiicken  quite  dumb  with  admiration  of  a  new  pink  scarf,  Miss 
Squeers  said  in  high  good  humor,  that  she  would  walk  part  of 
the  way  with  her,  for  the  pleasure  of  her  company  3  and  ofE 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


143 


they  went  together :  Miss  Squeers  dilating,  as  they  walked 
along,  upon  her  father's  accomplishments,  and  multiplying 
his  income  by  ten,  to  give  her  friend  some  faint  notion  of  the 
vast  importance  and  superiority  cf  her  family. 

It  happened  that  that  particular  time,  comprising  the  short 
daily  interval  which  was  suffered  to  ela]Dse  between  what  was 
pleasantly  called  the  dinner,  of  Mr.  Squeers's  pupils,  and  their 
return  to  the  pursuit  of  useful  knowledge,  was  precisely  the 
hour  when  Nicholas  was  accustomed  to  issue  forth  for  a 
melancholy  walk,  and  to  brood,  as  he  sauntered  listlessly 
through  the  village,  upon  his  miserable  lot.  Miss  Squeers 
knew  this,  perfectly  well,  but  had  perhaps  forgotten  it,  for 
when  she  caught  sight  of  that  young  gentleman  advancing  to- 
wards them,  she  evinced  many  symptoms  of  surprise  and  con- 
sternation, and  assured  her  friend  that  she  "  felt  fit  to  drop 
into  the  earth." 

"  Shall  we  turn  back,  or  run  into  a  cottage  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Price.     "  He  don't  see  us  yet." 

"  No,  'Tilda,"  replied  Miss  Squeers,  "  it  is  my  duty  to  go 
through  with  it,  and  i  will !  " 

As  Miss  Squeers  said  this,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  has 
made  a  high  moral  resolution,  and  was,  besides,  taken  with 
one  or  two  chokes  and  catchings  of  breath,  indicative  of  feel- 
ings at  a  high  pressure,  her  friend  made  no  farther  remark, 
and  they  bore  straight  down  upon  Nicholas,  who,  walking  with 
his  eyes  bent  upon  the  ground,  was  not  aware  of  their  approach 
until  they  were  close  upon  him,  otherwise  he  might,  perhaps, 
have  taken  shelter  himself. 

"Good-morning,"  said  Nicholas,  bowing  and  passing  by. 

"  He  is  going,"  murmured  Miss  Squeers.  "  I  shall  choke, 
'Tilda." 

"  Come  back,  Mr.  Nickleby,  do  !  "  cried  Miss  Price,  affect- 
ing alarm  at  her  friend's  threat,  but  really  actuated  by  a  mali- 
cious wish  to  hear  what  Nicholas  would  say  ;  "  come  back, 
Mr.  Nickleby  !  " 

Mr.  Nickleby  came  back,  and  looked  as  confused  as  might 
be,  as  he  inquired  whether  the  ladies  had  any  commands  for 
him. 

"  Don't  stop  to  talk,"  urged  Miss  Price,  hastily,  "  but  sup- 
port her  on  the  other  side.     How  do  you  feel  now,  dear  ?  " 

"  Better,"  sighed  Miss  Squeers,  laying  a  beaver  bonnet  of 
a  reddish  brown  with  a  green  veil  attached,  on  Mr.  Nickleby's 
shoulder.     "  This  foolish  faintness  !  " 


144  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"Don't  call  it  foolish,  dear,"  said  Miss  Price,  her  bright 
eye  dancing  with  merriment  as  she  saw  the  perplexity  of 
Nicholas;  "you  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  it.  It's 
those  who  are  too  proud  to  come  round  again,  without  all  this 
to-do,  that  ought  to  be  ashamed." 

"  You  are  resolved  to  fix  it  upon  me,  I  see,"  said  Nicholas, 
smiling,  "  although  I  told  you,  last  night,  it  was  not  my  fault." 

"  There  ;  he  says  it  was  not  his  fault,  my  dear,"  remarked 
the  wicked  Miss  Price.  "  Perhaps  you  were  too  jealous,  or 
too  hasty  with  him  ?  He  says  it  was  not  his  fault.  You  hear  ; 
I  think  that's  apology  enough." 

"You  will  not  understand  me,"  said  Nicholas.  "Pray 
dispense  with  this  jesting,  for  I  have  no  time,  and  really  no 
inclination,  to  be  the  subject  or  promoter  of  mirth  just  now." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Miss  Price,  affecting  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Don't  ask  him,  'Tilda,"  cried  Miss  Squeers  ;  "  I  forgive 
him." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Nicholas,  as  the  brown  bonnet  went  down 
on  his  shoulder  again,  "  this  is  more  serious  than  I  supposed. 
Allow  me  !     Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  hear  me  speak  ?  " 

Here  he  raised  up  the  brown  bonnet,  and  regarding  with^ 
most  unfeigned  astonishment  a  look  of  tender  reproach  from 
Miss  Squeers,  shrunk  back  a  few  paces  to  be  out  of  the  reach 
of  the  fair  burden,  and  went  on  to  say  : 

"  I  am  very  sorry — truly  and  sincerely  sorry — for  having 
been  the  cause  of  any  difference  among  you,  last  night.  I 
reproach  myself,  most  bitterly,  for  having  been  so  unfortunate 
as  to  cause  the  dissension  that  occurred,  although  I  did  so,  I 
assure  you,  most  unwittingly  and  heedlessly." 

"  Well  ;  that's  not  all  you  have  got  to  say  surely,"  ex- 
claimed Miss  Price  as  Nicholas  paused. 

"  I  fear  there  is  something  more,"  stammered  Nicholas 
with  a  half  smile,  and  looking  towards  Miss  Squeers,  "it  is  a 
most  awkward  thing  to  say — but — the — very  mention  of  such 
a  supposition  makes  one  look  like  a  pupjjy — still — may  I  ask 
if  that  lady  supposes  that  I  entertain  any — in  short,  does  she 
think  that  I  am  in  love  with  her  ? " 

"Delightful  embarrassment,"  thought  Miss  Squeers,"! 
have  brought  him  to  it,  at  last.  Answer  for  me,  dear,"  she 
whispered  to  her  friend. 

"  Does  she  think  so  .'  "  rejoined  Miss  Price  ;  "  of  course 
she  does." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  ^1457 

She  does  !  "  exclaimed  Nicholas  with  such  energy  of 
utterance  as  might  have  been,  for  the  moment,  mistaken  for 
rapture. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Miss  Price. 

"  If  Mr.  Nickleby  has  doubted  that,  'Tilda,"  said  the 
blushing  Miss  Squeers  in  soft  accents,  "he  may  set  his  mind 
at  rest.     His  sentiments  are  recipro — " 

"  Stop,"  cried  Nicholas  hurriedly  ;  "pray  hear  me.  This 
is  the  grossest  and  wildest  delusion,  the  completest  and  most 
signal  mistake,  that  ever  human  being  labored  under,  cr  ccm- 
miited.  I  have  scarcelv  seen  the  young  lady  half  a  dozen 
times,  but  if  I  had  seen  her  sixty  times,  or  am  destined  to  see 
her  sixty  thousand,  it  would  be,  and  will  be,  precisely  the 
same.  I  have  not  one  thought,  wish  or  hope,  connected  with 
her,  unless  it  be— ;and  I  say  this,  not  to  hurt  her_ feelings,  but  to 
impress  her  with  tlie  real  staTe~of  my  own — unless^it'  be  the 
one  object,  dear  to  my  heart  as  life  itself,  of  being  one  day 
a,bl_e  to  turn  my  back  upon  this  accursed  place,  never  to  set 
foot  in  it  again,  or  think  of  it — even  think  of  it — but  with 
loathing  and  disgust." 

With  this  particularly  plain  and  straight-forward  declara- 
tion, which  he  made  with  all  the  vehemence  that  his  indignant 
and  excited  feelings  could  bring  to  bear  upon  it,  Nicholas, 
waiting  to  hear  no  more,  retreated. 

But  poor  Miss  Squeers  !  Her  anger,  rage,  and  vexation  ; 
the  rapid  succession  of  bitter  and  passionate  feelings  that 
whirled  through  her  mind  ;  are  not  to  be  described.  Refused  ! 
refused  by  a  teacher,  picked  up  by  advertisement,  at  an  annual 
salary  of  five  pounds  payable  at  indefinite  periods,  and  "  found  " 
in  food  and  lodging  like  the  very  boys  themselves  ;  and  this 
too  in  the  presence  of  a  little  chit  of  a  miller's  daughter  of 
eighteen,  who  was  going  to  be  married,  in  three  weeks'  time, 
to  a  man  who  had  gone  down  on  his  very  knees  to  ask  !  She 
could  have  choked  in  right  good  earnest,  at  the  thought  of 
being  so  humbled. 

But  there  was  one  thing  clear  in  the  midst  of  her  mortifi- 
cation  ;  and  that  was,  that  she  hated  and  detested  Nicholas 
with  all  the  narrowness  of  mind  and  littleness  of  purpose 
worthy  a  descendant  of  the  house  of  Squeers.  And  there  was 
one  comfort  too  ;  and  that  was,  that  every  hour  in  every  day 
she  could  wound  his  pride,  and  goad  him  with  the  infliction 
of  some  slight,  or  insult,  or  deprivation,  which  could  not  but 
have  some  effect  on  the  most  insensible  person,  and  must  be 

10 


146  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

acutely  felt  by  one  so  sensitive  as  Nicholas.  With  these  two 
reflections  uppermost  in  her  mind,  Miss  Squeers  made  the 
best  of  the  matter  to  her  friend,  by  observing  that  Mr.  Nickleby 
was  such  an  odd  creature,  and  of  such  a  violent  temper,  that 
she  feared  that  she  should  be  obliged  to  give  him  up  ;  and 
parted  from  her. 

And  here  it  may  be  remarked,  that  Miss  Squeers,  having 
bestowed  her  affections  (or  whatever  it  might  be  that,  in  the 
absence  of  anything  better,  represented  them)  on  Nicholas 
Nickleby,  had  never  once  seriously  contemplated  the  possi- 
bility of  his  being  of  a  different  opinion  from  herself  in  the 
business.  Miss  Squeers  reasoned  that  she  was  prepossessing 
and  beautiful,  and  that  her  father  was  master,  and  Nicholas 
man,  and  that  her  father  had  saved  money,  and  Nicholas  had 
none,  all  of  which  seemed  to  her  conclusive  arguments  why 
the  young  ijoap  should  feel  only  too  much  honored  by  her 
preference.  |  She  had  not  failed  to  recollect,  either,  how  much 
more  agreeable  she  could  render  his  situation  if  she  were  his 
friend,  and  how  much  more  disagreeable  if  she  were  his  enemy  ; 
and,  doubtless,  many  less  scrupulous  young  gentlemen  than 
Nicholas  would  have  encouraged  her  extravagance  had  it  been 
only  for  this  very  obvious  and  intelligible  reason.  However, 
he  had  thought  proper  to  do  otherwise,  and  Miss  Squeers  was 
outrageouai 

"Let  me  see,"  said  the  irritated  young  lady,  when  she  had 
regained  her  own  room,  and  eased  her  mind  by  committing 
an  assault  on  Phib,  "  if  I  don't  set  mother  against  him  a 
little  more  when  she  comes  back  !  " 

It  was  scarcely  necessary  to  do  this,  but  Miss  Squeers  was 
as  good  as  her  word  ;  and  poor  Nicholas,  in  addition  to  bad 
foo:l,  dirty  lodging,  and  the  being  compelled  to  w-itness  one 
dull  unvarying  round  of  squalid  misery,  was  treated  with 
every  special  indignity  that  malice  could  suggest,  or  the  most 
grasping  cupidity  put  upon  him. 

Nor  was  this  all.  lliere  was  another  and  deeper  system 
of  annoyance  which  made  his  heart  sink,  and  nearly  drove 
him  wild,  by  its  injustice  and  cruelty. 

T.ie  wretched  creature,  Smike,  since  the  night  Nicholas 
had  spoken  kindly  to  him  in  the  school-room,  had  followed 
him  to  and  fro,  with  an  ever  restless  desire  to  serve  or  help 
him  ;  anticipating  such  little  wants  as  his  humble  ability  could 
supply,  and  content  only  to  be  near  him.  He  would  sit  be- 
side  him  for  hours,  looking   patiently  into  his  face  ;  and  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


»47 


word  would  brighten  up  his  care-worn  visage,  and  call  into  it 
a  passing  gleam,  even  of  happiness.  He  was  an  altered  being ; 
he  had  an  object  now ;  and  that  object  was,  to  show  hi;i  at- 
tachment to  the  only  person — that  person  a  stranger — who 
had  treated  him,  not  to  say  with  kindness,  but  like  a  human 
creature. 

Upon  this  poor  being,  all  the  spleen  and  ill-humor  that 
could  not  be  vented  on  Nicholas  were  unceasingly  bestowed. 
Drudgery  would  have  been  nothing — Smike  was  well  used  to 
that,  Buffetings  inflicted  without  cause,  would  have  been 
equally  a  matter  of  course  ;  for  to  them  also,  he  had  served  a 
long  and  weary  apprenticeship  ;  but  it  was  no  sooner  observed 
that  he  had  become  attached  to  Nicholas,  than  stripes  and 
blows,  stripes  and  blows,  morning,  noon,  and  night,  were  his 
only  portion.  Squeers  was  jealous  of  the  influence  which  his 
man  had  so  soon  acquired,  and  his  family  hated  him,  and 
Smike  paid  for  both.  Nicholas  saw  it,  and  ground  his  teeth 
at  every  repetition  of  the  savage  and  cowardly  attack. 

He  had  arranged  a  few  regular  lessons  for  the  boys ;  and 
one  night  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the  dismal  school-room, 
his  swollen  heart  almost  bursting  to  think  that  his  protection 
and  countenance  should  have  increased  the  misery  of  the 
wretched  being  whose  peculiar  destitution  had  awakened  his 
pity,  he  paused  mechanically  in  a  dark  corner  where  sat  the 
object  of  his  thoughts. 

The  poor  soul  was  poring  hard  over  a  tattered  book  with 
the  traces  of  recent  tears  still  upon  his  face ;  vainly  endeavor- 
ing to  master  some  task  which  a  child  of  nine  years  old,  pos- 
sessed of  ordinary  powers,  could  have  conquered  with  ease, 
but  which,  to  the  addled  brain  of  the  crushed^  boy  of  nine- 
teen, was  a  sealed  and  hopeless  myster}^  Yet  "there  he  sat, 
patiently  conning  the  page  again  and  again,  stimulated  by 
no  boyish  ambition,  for  he  was  the  common  jest  and  scoff 
even  of  the  uncouth  objects  that  congregated  about  him, 
but  inspired  by  the  one  eager  desire  to  please  his  solita-y 
friend. 

Nicholas  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"I  can't  do  it,"  said  the  dejected  creature,  looking  up 
with  bitter  disappointment  in  every  feature.     "  No,  nc." 

"  Do  not  try,"  replied  Nicholas. 

The  boy  shook  his  head,  and  closing  the  book  with  a  sigh, 
looked  vacantly  round,  and  laid  his  head  upon  his  arm.  Ha 
was  weeping. 


1 48  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V- 

"  Do  not  for  God's  sake,"  said  Nicholas,  in  an  agitated 
voice  ;  "  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you." 

"They  are  more  hard  with  me  than  ever,"  sobbed  the 
boy. 

"  I  know  it,"  rejoined  Nicholas,     *'  They  are." 

"  But  for  you,"  said  the  outcast,  "  I  should  die.  They 
would  kill  me  ;  they  would  ;  I  know  they  would." 

"  You  will  do  better,  poor  fellow,"  replied  Nicholas,  shak- 
ing his  head  mournfully,  "when  I  am  gone." 

"  Gone  !  "  cried  the  other,  looking  intently  in  his  face. 

"  Softly  !  "  rejoined  Nicholas.     "Yes." 

"  Are  you  going } "  demanded  the  boy,  in  an  earnest 
whisper. 

"I  cannot  say,"  replied  Nicholas.  "I  was  speaking 
more  to  my  own  thoughts,  than  to  you." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  the  boy  imploringly,  "  Oh  do  tell  me,  wi// 
you  go — w///  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  driven  to  that  at  last !  "  said  Nicholas.  "  The 
world  is  before  me,  after  all." 

"Tell  me,"  urged  Smike,  "  is  the  world  as  bad  and  dismal 
as  this  place  ?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid,"  replied  Nicholas,  pursuing  the  train  of 
his  own  thoughts,  "  its  hardest,  coarsest  toil,  were  happiness 
to  this." 

"  Should  I  ever  meet  you  there  ?  "  demanded  the  boy 
speaking  with  unusual  wildness  and  volubility. 

"Yes,"  replied  Nicholas,  willing  to  soothe  him. 

"  No.  no !  "  said  the  other,  clasping  him  by  the  hand. 
"  Should  I — should  I — tell  me  that  again.  Say  I  should  be 
sure  to  fin, I  you." 

"  You  would,"'  replied  Nicholas,  with  the  same  humane  in- 
tention, "  antl  I  would  help  and  aid  you,  and  not  bring  fresh 
sorrow  on  you  as  I  have  done  here." 

The  boy  caught  both  the  young  man's  hands  passionately 
i:i  his,  an  !,  hugging  them  to  hi;  breast,  uttered  ?.  few  broken 
sound  ;  which  were  unintelligible.  Squeers  entered,  at  the 
moment,  and  he  shrunk  back  into  his  old  corner. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  149 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

NICHOLAS  VARIES  THE  MONOTONY  OF  DOTHEBOYS  HALL  BY  A 
MOST  VIGOROUS  AND  REMARKABLE  PROCEEDING,  WHICH 
LEADS    TO    CONSEQUENCES    OF    SOME    IMPORTANCE. 

The  cold,  feeble,  dawn  of  a  January  morning  was  stealing 
in  at  the  windows  of  the  common  sleeping-room,  when  Nich- 
olas, raising  himself  on  his  arm,  looked  among  the  prostrate 
forms  which  on  every  side  surrounded  him,  as  though  in  search 
of  some  particular  object. 

It  needed  a  quick  eye  to  detect,  from  among  the  huddled 
mass  of  sleepers,  the  form  of  any  given  individual.  As  they 
lay  closely  packed  together,  covered,  for  warmth's  sake,  with 
their  patched  and  ragged  clothes,  little  could  be  distinguished 
but  the  sharp  outlines  of  pale  faces,  over  which  the  sombre 
light  shed  the  same  dull  heavy  color  ;  with,  here  and  there,  a 
gaunt  arm  thrust  forth ;  its  thinness  hidden  by  no  covering, 
but  fully  exposed  to  view,  in  all  its  shrunken  ugliness.  There 
were  some  who,  lying  on  their  backs  with  upturned  faces  and 
clenched  hands,  just  visible  in  the  leaden  light,  bore  more  the 
aspect  of  dead  bodies  than  of  li\ing  creatures  ;  and  there  were 
others  coiled  up  into  strange  and  fantastic  postures,  such  as 
might  have  been  taken  for  the  uneasy  efforts  of  pain  to  gain 
some  temporary  relief,  rather  than  the  freaks  of  slumber.  A 
few — and  these  were  among  the  youngest  of  the  children — 
slept  peacefully  on,  with  smiles  upon  their  faces,  dreaming 
perhaps  of  home  ;  but  ever  and  again  a  deep  and  heavy  sigh, 
breaking  the  stillness  of  the  room,  announced  that  some  new 
sleeper  had  awakened  to  the  misery  of  another  day  ;  and,  as 
morning  took  the  place  of  night,  the  smiles  gradually  faded 
away,  with  the  friendly  darkness  which  had  given  them  birth. 

Dreams  are  the  bright  creatures  of  poem  and  legend,  who 
sport  on  earth  in  the  night  season,  and  melt  away  in  the  first 
beam  of  the  sun,  which  lights  grim  care  and  stern  reality  on 
their  daily  pilgrimage  through  the  world. 

Nicholas  looked  upon  the  sleepers  ;  at  first,  with  the  air 
of  one  who  gazes  upon  a  scene  which,  though  familiar  to  him, 
has  lost  none  of  its  sorrowful  effect  in  consequence  ;  and, 
afterwards,  with  a  more  intense  and  searching  scrutiny,  as  a 


1 2 o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

man  would,  who  missed  something  his  eye  was  accustomed  to 
meet,  and  had  expected  to  rest  upon.  He  was  still  occupied 
in  this  search,  and  had  half  risen  from  his  bed  in  the  eager- 
ness of  his  quest,  when  the  voice  of  Squeers  was  heard,  call- 
ing from  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 

"Now  then,"  cried  that  gentleman,  "are  you  going  to 
sleep  all  day,  up  there — " 

"  You  lazy  hounds  ?  "  added  Mrs.  Squeers,  finishing  the 
sentence,  and  producing  at  the  same  time,  a  sharp  sound,  like 
that  which  is  occasioned  by  the  lacing  of  stays. 

"  We  shall  be  down  directly,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Down  directly  !  "  said  Squeers.  "  Ah  !  you  had  better 
be  down  directly,  or  I'll  be  down  upon  some  of  you  in  less. 
Where's  that  Smike  .?  " 

Nicholas  looked  hurriedly  round  again,  but  made  no 
answer. 

"  Smike  !  "  shouted  Squeers. 

"  Do  you  want  your  head  broke  in  a  fresh  place,  Smike  "i " 
demanded  his  amiable  lady  in  the  same  key. 

Still  there  was  no  reply,  and  still  Nicholas  stared  about 
him,  as  did  the  greater  part  of  the  boys,  who  were  by  this  time 
roused, 

"  Confound  his  impudence  !  "  muttered  Squeers,  rapping 
the  stair-rail  impatiently  with  his  cane.     "  Nickleby  !  " 

"Well,  sir." 

"  Send  that  obstinate  scoundrel  down  ;  don't  you  hear  me 
calling  ?  " 

"  He  is  not  here,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Don't  tell  me  a  lie,"  retorted  the  schoolmaster.  "  He 
is." 

"  He  is  not,"  retorted  Nicholas  angrily,  "  don't  tell  me 
one." 

"  We  shall  soon  see  that,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  rushing  up 
stairs.     "  I'll  find  him,  I  warrant  you." 

With  which  assurance,  Mr.  Squeers  bounced  into  the 
dormitory,  and,  swinging  his  cane  in  the  air  ready  for  a  blow, 
darted  into  the  corner  where  the  lean  body  of  the  drudge  was 
usually  stretched  at  night.  The  cane  descended  harmlessly 
upon  the  ground.     There  was  nobody  there. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  said  Squeers,  turning  round 
with  a  very  pale  face     "  Where  have  you  hid  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  nothing  of  him,  since  last  night,"  replied 
Nicholas. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


151 


"Come,"  said  Squeers,  evidently  frightened,  though  he 
endeavored  to  look  otherwise,  "you  won't  save  him  this  way. 
Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  At  the  bottom  of  the  nearest  pond  for  aught  I  know,"  re- 
joined Nicholas  in  a  low  voice,  and  fixing  his  eyes  full  on  the 
master's  face. 

'•  D — n  you,  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  retorted  Squeers 
in  great  perturbation.  WiLhout  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  in- 
quired of  the  boys  whether  any  one  among  them  knew  any 
thing  of  their  missing  schoolmate. 

There  was  a  general  hum  of  anxious  denial,  in  the  midst 
of  which,  one  shrill  voice  was  heard  to  say  (as,  indeed,  every- 
body thought)  : 

"  Please,  sir,  I  think  Smike's  run  away,  sir." 

"  Ha  !  "  cried  Squeers,  turning  sharp  round  ;  "  Who  said 
that?" 

"  Tomkins,  please  sir,"  rejoined  a  chorus  of  voices.  Mr. 
Squeers  made  a  plunge  into  the  crowd,  and  at  one  dive, 
caught  a  very  little  boy,  habited  still  in  his  night  gear,  and  the 
perplexed  expression  of  whose  countenance  as  he  was  brought 
forward,  seemed  to  intimate  that  he  was  as  yet  uncertain 
whether  he  was  about  to  be  punished  or  rewarded  for  the  sug- 
gestion.    He  was  not  long  in  doubt. 

"You  think  he  has  run  away,  do  you,  sir?"  demanded 
Squeers. 

"  Yes,  please  sir,"  replied  the  little  boy. 

"And  what,  sir,"  said  Squeers,  catching  the  little  boy 
suddenly  by  the  arms  and  whisking  up  his  drapery  in  a  most 
dexterous  manner,  "  what  reason  have  you  to  suppose  that 
any  boy  would  want  to  run  away  from  this  establishment  ? 
Eh,  sir?" 

The  child  raised  a  dismal  cry,  by  way  of  answer,  and  Mr. 
Squeers,  throwing  himself  into  the  most  favorable  attitude  for 
exercising  his  strength,  beat  him  until  the  little  urchin  in  his 
writhings  actually  rolled  out  of  his  hands,  when  he  mercifully 
allowed  him  to  roll  away  as  he  best  could. 

"  There,"  said  Squeers.  "  Now  if  any  other  boy  thinks 
Smike  has  run  away,  I  should  be  glad  to  ha\-e  a  talk  with 
him." 

There  was,  of  course,  a  profound  silence  during  which 
Nicholas  showed  his  disgust  as  plainly  as  looks  could  show  it. 

"Well,  Nickleby,"  said  Squeers,  eyeing  him  maliciously. 
"  You  think  he  has  run  away,  I  suppose  ? " 


1^2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  I  think  it  extremely  likely,"  replied  Nicholas,  in  a  quiet 
manner. 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you  ?  "  sneered  Squeers.  "  Maybe  you 
know  he  has  ?  "  • 

"  I  know  nothins:  of  the  kind." 

"  He  didn't  tell  you  he  was  going,  I  suppose,  did  he }  " 
sneered  Squeers. 

'•  He  did  not,"  replied  Nicholas ;  "  I  am  very  glad  he  did 
not,  for  it  would  then  have  been  my  duty  to  have  warned  you, 
in  time." 

'•  Which  no  doubt  you  would  ha\-e  been  devilish  soxvj  to 
do,"  said  Squeers  in  a  taunting  fashion. 

"I  should  indeed,"  replied  Nicholas.  "You  interpret 
my  feelings  with  great  accuracy." 

Mrs.  Squeers  had  listened  to  this  conversation,  from  the 
bottom  of  the  stairs  ;  but,  now  losing  all  patience,  she  hastily 
assumed  her  night-jacket,  and  made  her  way  to  the  scene  of 
action. 

"  What's  all  this  here  to  do?  "  said  the  lady,  as  the  boys 
fell  off  right  and  left,  to  save  her  the  trouble  of  clearing  a 
passage  with  her  brawny  arms.  "  What  on  earth  are  you 
talking  to  him  for,  Squeery  !  " 

"  Why,  my  dear,"  said  Squeers,  "  the  fact  is,  that  Smike 
is  not  to  be  found  !  " 

"Well,  I  know  that,"  said  the  lady,  "and  where's  the 
wonder  ?  If  you  get  a  parcel  of  proud-stomached  teachers 
that  set  the  young  dogs  a  rebelling,  what  else  can  you  look 
for?  Now,  young  man,  you  just  have  the  kindness  to  take 
yourself  off  to  the  school-room,  and  take  the  boys  off  with 
you,  and  don't  you  stir  out  of  there  'till  you  have  leave  given 
you,  or  you  and  I  may  fall  out  in  a  way  that'll  spoil  your 
beauty,  handsome  as  you  think  yourself,  and  so  I  tell  you." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Yes  ;  and  indeed  and  indeed  again.  Mister  Jackanapes," 
said  the  e.Kcited  lady ;  "  and  I  wouldn't  keep  such  as  you  in 
the  house,  another  hour,  if  I  had  my  way." 

"  Nor  would  you  if  I  had  mine,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  Now, 
bovs !  " 

"Ah!  Now  boys,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers,  mimicking,  as 
nearly  as  she  could,  the  voice  and  manner  of  the  usher.  "  Fol- 
low your  leader,  bovs,  and  take  pattern  by  Smike  if  you  dare. 
See  what  he'll  get  for  himself,  when  he  is  brought  back  ;  and, 
mind  !  I  tell  you  that  you  shall  have  as  bad,  and  twice  as  bad, 
if  you  so  much  as  open  your  mouths  about  him." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY  153 

"  If  I  catch  him,"  said  Squeers,  "I'll  only  stop  short  of 
flaying  him  alive.     I  give  you  notice,  boys." 

"^you  catch  him,"  retorted  Mrs.  Squeers,  contemptu- 
ously, "you  are  sure  to ;  you  can't  help  it,  if  you  go  the  right 
way  to  work.     Come  !     Away  with  you  !  " 

With  these  words,  Mrs.  Squeers  dismissed  the  boys,  and 
after  a  little  light  skirmishing  with  those  in  the  rear  who  were 
pressing  forward  to  get  out  of  the  way,  but  were  detained  for 
a  few  moments  by  the  throng  in  front,  succeeded  in  clearing 
the  room,  when  she  confronted  her  spouse  alone. 

"He  is  off,"  said  Mrs.  Squeers.  "The  cow-house  and 
the  stable  are  locked  up,  so  he  can't  be  there  ;  and  he's  not 
down  stairs  anywhere,  for  the  girl  has  looked.  He  must  have 
gone  York  way,  and  by  a  public  road  too." 

"  Why  must  he  ?  "  inquired  Squeers. 

"  Stupid  !  "  said  Mrs.  Squeers  angrily  "  He  hadn't  any 
money,  had  he  ?  " 

"  Never  had  a  penny  of  his  own  in  his  whole  life,  that  I 
know  of,"  replied  Squeers. 

"  To  be  sure,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Squeers,  "  and  he  didn't 
take  anything  to  eat  with  him  ;  that  I'll  answer  for.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
ha  !  " 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  Squeers, 

"Then,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  S.,  "he  must  beg  his  way,* 
and  he  could  do  that  nowhere,  but  on  the  public  road." 

"That's  true,"  exclaimed  Squeers,  clapping  his  hands. 

"  True  !  Yes  ;  but  you  would  never  have  thought  of  it, 
for  all  that,  if  I  hadn't  said  so,"  replied  his  wife.  "Now,  if 
you  take  the  chaise  and  go  one  road,  and  I  borrow  Swallow's 
chaise,  and  go  the  other,  what  with  keeping  our  eyes  open 
and  asking  questions,  one  or  the  other  of  us  is  pretty  certain 
to  lay  hold  of  him." 

The  worthy  lady's  plan  was  adopted  and  put  in  execution 
without  a  moment's  delay.  After  a  very  hasty  breakfast,  and 
the  prosecution  of  some  inquiries  in  the  village,  the  result  of 
which  seemed  to  show  that  he  was  on  the  right  track,  Squeers 
started  forth  in  the  poney-chaise,  intent  upon  discovery  and 
vengeance.  Shortly  afterwards,  Mrs.  Squeers,  arrayed  in  the 
white  top-coat,  and  tied  up  in  various  shawls  and  handker- 
chiefs, issued  forth  in  another  chaise  and  another  direction, 
taking  with  her  a  good-sized  bludgeon,  several  odd. pieces  of 
strong  cord,  and  a  stout  laboring  man  :  all  provided  and  car- 
ried upon  the  expedition   with  the  sole  object  of  assisting  in 


1 5 4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

the  capture,  and  (once  caught)  insuring  the   safe  custody  of 
the  untortunate  Smike. 

Nicholas  remained  behind,  in  a  tumult  of  feeling,  sensible 
that  whatever  might  be  the  upshot  of  the  boy's  flight,  nothing 
but  painful  and  deplorable  consequences  were  likely  to  ensue 
from  it.  Death,  from  want  and  exposure  to  the  weather,  was 
the  best  that  could  be  expected  from  the  protracted  wander- 
ing of  so  poor  and  helpless  a  creature,  alone  and  unfriended, 
through  a  country  of  which  he  was  wholly  ignorant.  There 
was  little,  perhaps,  to  choose  between  this  fate  and  a  return 
to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Yorkshire  school  ;  but  the  un- 
happy being  had  established  a  hold  upon  his  sympathy  and 
compassion,  which  made  his  heart  ache  at  the  prospect  of 
the  suffering  he  was  destined  to  undergo.  He  lingered  on, 
in  restless  anxiety,  picturing  a  thousand  possibilities,  until  the 
evening  of  next  day,  when  Squeers  returned,  alone,  a.nd  un- 
successful. 

"  No  news  of  the  scamp  !  "  said  the  schoolmaster,  who 
had  evidently  been  stretching  his  legs,  on  the  old  principle, 
not  a  few  times  during  the  journey.  "  I'll  have  consolation 
for  this  out  of  somebody,  Nickleby,  if  Mrs.  Squeers  don't  hunt 
him  down  ;  so  I  give  you  warning." 

"It  is  not  in  my  power  to  console  you,  sir,"  said  Nicholas. 
'"It  is  nothing  to  me." 

"  Isn't  it  ?  "  said  Squeers  in  a  threatening  manner.  "We 
shall  see  !  " 

"  We  shall,"  rejoined  Nicholas. 

"  Here's  the  pony  run  right  off  his  legs,  and  me  obliged  to 
come  home  with  a  hack  cob,  that'll  cost  fifteen  shillings  be- 
sides other  expenses,"  said  Squeers  ;  "who's  to  pay  for  that, 
do  you  hear  ?  " 

Nicholas  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  remained  silent. 
"  I'll  have  it  out  of  somebody,  I  tell  you,"  said  Squeers, 
his  usual  harsh  crafty  manner  changed  to  open  bullying. 
"  None  of  your  whining  vaporings  here,  Mr.  1  uppy,  but  be 
off  to  your  kennel,  for  its  past  your  bed-time  !  Come  I  Get 
out !  " 

Nicholas  bit  his  lip  and  knit  his  hands  involuntarily,  for 
his  finger  ends  tingled  to  avenge  the  insult  ;  but  remembering 
that  the  man  was  drunk,  and  that  it  could  come  to  little  but 
a  noisy  brawl,  he  contented  himself  with  darting  a  contemptu- 
ous look  at  the  tyrant,  and  walked,  as  majestically  as  he 
could,  up  stairs  ;  not  a  little  nettled,  however,  to  observe  that 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y  155 

Miss  Squeers  and  Master  Squeers,  and  the  servant  girl,  were 
enjoying  the  scene  from  a  snug  corner  ;  the  two  former,  in- 
dulging in  many  edifying  remarks  about  the  presumption  of 
poor  upstarts,  which  occasioned  a  vast  deal  of  laughter,  in 
which  even  the  most  miserable  of  all  miserable  servant  girls 
joined  ;  while  Nicholas,  stung  to  the  quick,  drew  over  his 
head  such  bed-clothes  as  he  had,  and  sternly  resolved  that  the 
outstanding  account  between  himself  and  Mr.  Squeers  should 
be  settled  rather  more  speedily  than  the  latter  anticipated. 

Another  day  came,  and  Nicholas  was  scarcely  awake  when 
he  heard  the  wheels  of  a  chaise  approaching  the  house.  It 
stopped.  The  voice  of  Mrs.  Squeers  was  heard,  and  in  exult- 
ation, ordering  a  glass  of  spirits  for  somebody,  which  was  in 
itself  sufficient  sign  that  something  extraordinary  had  hap- 
pened. Nicholas  hardly  dared  to  look  out  of  the  window ; 
but  he  did  so,  and  the  very  first  object  that  met  his  eyes  was 
the  wretched  Smike  :  so  bedabbled  with  mud  and  rain,  so 
haggard  and  worn,  and  wild,  that,  but  for  his  garments  being 
such  as  no  scarecrow  was  ever  seen  to  wear,  he  might  have 
been  doubtful,  even  then,  of  his  identity. 

"  Lift  him  out,"  said  Squeers,  after  he  had  literally  feasted 
his  eyes,  in  silence,  upon  the  culprit,  "  Bring  him  in  ;  bring 
him  in  !  " 

"  Take  care,"  cried  Mrs.  Squeers,  as  her  husband  proffered 
his  assistance.  ''  We  tied  his  legs  under  the  apron  and  made 
'em  fast  to  the  chaise,  to  prevent  his  giving  us  the  slip  again." 

With  hands  trembling  with  delight,  Squeers  unloosened 
the  cord  ;  and  Smike,  to  all  appearance  more  dead  than  alive, 
was  brought  into  the  house  and  securely  locked  up  in  a  cellar, 
until  such  time  as  Mr.  Squeers  should  deem  it  expedient  to 
operate  upon  him,  in  presence  of  the  assembled  school. 

Upon  a  hasty  consideration  of  the  circumstances,  it  may 
be  matter  of  surprise  to  some  persons,  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Squeers  should  have  taken  so  much  trouble  to  repossess  them- 
selves of  an  incumbrance  of  which  it  was  their  wont  to 
complain  so  loudly  ;  but  their  sui  prise  will  cease  when  they 
are  informed  that  the  manifQld  services  of  the  drudge,  if  per- 
formed by  anybody  else,  would  have  cost  the  establishment 
some  ten  or  twelve' shillings  per  week  in  the  shape  of  wages  ; 
and  furthermore,  that  all  runaways  were,  as  a  matter  of  policy, 
made  severe  examples  of,  at  Dotheboys  Hall,  inasmuch  as. 
in  consequence  of  the  limited  extent  of  its  attractions,  there 
was  but  little  inducement,  beyond  the  powerful  impulse  of  fear, 


156 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


I 


for  any  pupil,  provided  with  the  usual  number  of  legs  and  the 
power  of  using  them,  to  remain. 

The  news  that  Smike  had  been  caught  and  brought  back 
in  triumph,  ran  like  wild-fire  through  the  hungry  community, 
and  expectation  was  on  tiptoe  all  the  morning.  On  tiptoe  it  was 
destined  to  remain,  however,  until  afternoon ;  when  Squeers  hav- 
ing refreshed  himself  with  his  dinner,  and  further  strengthened 
himself  by  an  extra  libation  or  so,  made  his  appearance  (accom- 
panied by  his  amiable  partner)  with  a  countenance  of  porten- 
tous import,  and  a  fearful  instrument  of  flagellation,  strong, 
supple,  wax-ended,  and  new — in  short,  purchased  that  morning, 
expressly  for  the  occasion. 

"Is  every  boy  here?"  asked  Squeers,  in  a  tremendous 
voice. 

Every  boy  was  there,  but  every  boy  was  afraid  to  speak  ; 
so,  Squeers  glared  along  the  lines  to  assure  himself ;  and  every 
eye  drooped,  and  every  head  cowered  down,  as  he  did  so. 

*•  Each  boy  keep  his  place,"  said  Squeers,  administering 
his  favorite  blow  to  the  desk,  and  regarding  with  gloomy  satis- 
faction the  universal  start  which  it  never  failed  to  occasion. 
"Nickleby  !  to  your  desk,  sir." 

It  was  remarked  by  more  than  one  small  observer,  that 
there  was  a  very  curious  and  unusual  expression  in  the  usher's 
face  ;  but  he  took  his  seat,  without  opening  his  lips  in  reply. 
Squeers,  casting  a  triumphant  glance  at  his  assistant,  and  a 
look  of  most  comprehensive  despotism  on  the  boys,  left  the 
room,  and  shortly  afterwards  returned,  dragging  Smike  by  the 
collar — or  rather  by  that  fragment  of  his  jacket  which  was 
nearest  the  place  where  his  collar  would  have  been,  had  he 
boasted  such  a  decoration. 

In  any  other  place,  the  appearance  of  the  wretched,  jaded, 
spiritless  object,  would  have  occasioned  a  murmur  of  compas- 
sion and  remonstrance.  It  had  some  effect,  even  there  ;  for 
the  lookers-on  moved  uneasily  in  their  seats,  and  a  few  of  the 
boldest  ventured  to  steal  looks  at  each  other,  expressive  of  in- 
dignation and  pity. 

They  were  lost  on  Squeers,  however,  whose  gaze  was 
fastened  on  the  luckless  Smike,  as  he  inquired,  according  to 
custom  in  such  cases,  whether  he  had  anvthing  to  say  for  him- 
self. 

"  Nothing,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Squeers,  with  a  diabolical 
giin. 

Smike  glanced  round,  and  his  .eye  rested  for  an  instant  on 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


157 


Nicholas,  as  if  he  had  expected  him  to  intercede  ;  but  his  look 
was  riveted  on  his  desk. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  ?  "   demanded  Squeers   again  \ 
giving  his  right  arm  two  or  three  flourishes  to  try  its  power 
and  suppleness.     "  Stand  a  little  out  of  the  way.  Mrs.  Squeers 
my  dear  ;  I've  hardly  got  room  enough." 

"  Spare  me,  sir  !  "  cried  Smike. 

"  Oh  !  that's  all,  is  it  ?  "  said  Squeers.     "  Yes,  I'll  flog  you 
within  an  inch  of  your  life,  and  spare  you  that." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha,"  laughed  Mrs.  Squeers,  "  that's  a  good  'un  !  " 

"I  was  driven  to  do  it,"  said  Smike  faintly;  and  casting 
another  imploring  look  about  him. 

"  Driven  to  do  it,  were  you,"  said  Squeers.  "  Oh  !  it  wasn't 
your'~fa]3TrX'Trwas  iriTne,  I  suppose — eh  ?  " 

'"'^A  nasty,  ungrateful,  pig-headed,  brutish,  obstinate,  sneak- 
ing dog,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Squeers,  taking  Smike's  head  under 
her  arm,  and  administering  a  cuff  at  every  epithet ;  what 
does  he  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  Stand  aside,  my  dear,"  replied  Squeers.  "  We'll  try  and 
find  out." 

Mrs.  Squeers  being  out  of  breath  with  her  exertions,  com- 
plied. Squeers  caught  the  boy  firmly  in  his  grip  ;  one  des- 
perate cut  had  fallen  on  his  body — he  was  wincing  from  the 
lash,  and  uttering  a  scream  of  pain — it  was  raised  again,  and 
again  about  to  fall — when  Nicholas  Nickleby  suddenly  start- 
ing up,  cried  "  Stop  !  "  in  a  voice   that  made   the  rafters  ring. 

"Who  cried  stop  ?  "  said  Squeers  turning  savagely  round. 

"  I,"  said  Nicholas,  stepping  forward.     "  This  must  not  go 

on." 

"  Must  not  go  on  !  "  cried  Squeers,  almost  in  a  shriek. 

"  No  !  "  thundered  Nicholas. 

Aghast  and  stupefied  by  the  boldness_pf  lloe-iftterierence, 
Squeers  released  his  hold  of  Smike,  and  falling  back  a  pace 
or  two,  gazed  upon  Nicholas  with  looks  that  were  positively 
frightful. 

"  I  say  must  not,"  repeated  Nicholas,  nothing  daunted  ; 
"shall  not.     I  will  prevent  it." 

Squeers  continued  to  gaze  upon  him,  with  his  eyes  starting 
out  of  his  head  ;  but  astonishment  had  actually,  for  the  moment, 
bereft  him  of  speech. 

"  You  have  disregarded  all  my  quiet  interference  in  the 
miserable  lad's  behaff,"  said  Nicholas;  "you  have  returned 
no  answer  to  the  letter  in  which  I  begged  forgiveness  for  him, 


158 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


and  offered  to  be  responsible  that  he  would  remain  quietly 
here.  Don't  blame  me  for  this  public  interference.  You  have 
brought  it  upon  yourself;  not  I." 

"  Sit  down  beggar  !  "  screamed  Squeers,  almost  beside  him- 
self with  rage,  and  seizing  Smike  as  he  spoke. 

"Wretch,"  rejoined  Nicholas  fiercely,  "touch  him  at  your 
peril  !  I  will  not  stand  by  and  see  it  done.  My  blood  is  up, 
and  I  have  the  strength  of  ten  such  men  as  you.  Look  to  your- 
self, for  by  Heaven  I  will  not  spare  you,  if  you  drive  me  on  !  " 

"  Stand  back,"  cried  Squeers,  brandishing  his  weapon.    > 

"  I  have  a  long  series  of  insults  to  avenge,"  said  Nicholas,  / 
flushed  with  passion  ;  "  and  my  indignation  is  aggravated  by  r 
the  dastardly  cruelties  practised  on  helpless  infancy  in  this  \ 
foul  den.     Have  a  care  \  for  if  you  do  raise  the  devil  within  i 
me,  the  consequences  shall  fall  heavily  upon  your  own  headii^ 

He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  Squeers,  in  a  violent  out- 
break of  wrath,  and  with  a  cry  like  the  howl  of  a  wild  beast, 
spat  upon  him,  and  struck  him  a  blow  across  the  face  with  his 
instrument  of  torture,  which  raised  up  a  bar  of  livid  flesh  as  it 
was  inflicted.  Smarting  with  the  agony  of  the  blow,  and  con- 
centrating into  that  one  moment  all  his  feelings  of  rage,  scorn, 
and  indignation, ,  Nicholas  sprang  upon  him,  wrested  the 
weapon  from  his  hand,  and  pinning  him  by  the  throat,  beat 
the  ruffian  till  he  roared  for  mercy. 

The  boys — with  the  exception  of  Master  Squeers,  who, 
coming  to  his  father's  assistance,  harassed  the  enemy  in  the 
rear — moved  not,  hand  or  foot ;  but  Mrs.  Squeers,  with  many 
shrieks  for  aid,  hung  on  to  the  tail  of  her  partner's  coat,  and 
endeavored  to  drag  him  from  his  infuriated  adversary  ;  while 
Miss  Squeers,  who  had  been  peeping  through  the  key-hole  in 
expectation  of  a  very  different  scene,  darted  in  at  the  very 
beginning  of  the  attack,  and  after  launching  a  shower  of  ink- 
stanks  at  the  usher's  head,  beat  Nicholas  to  her  heart's  con- 
tent :  animating  herself,  at  every  blow,  with  the  recollection 
of  his  having  refused  her  proferred  love,  and  thus  imparting 
additional  strength  to  an  arm  which  (as  she  took  after  her 
mother  in  this  respect)  was,  at  no  time,  one  of  the  weakest. 

Nicholas,  in  the  full  torrent  of  his  violence,  felt  the  blows 
no  more  than  if  they  had  been  dealt  with  feathers  ;  but,  be- 
coming tired  of  the  noise  and  uproar,  and  feeling  that  his  arm 
grew  weak  besides,  he  threw  all  his  remaining  strength  into 
half-a-dozen  finishing  cuts,  and  flung  Squeers  from  him,  with 
all  the  force  he  could  muster.     The  violence  of  his  fall  pre- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


159 


cipitated  Mrs.  Squeers  completely  over  an  adjacent  form  ;  and 
Squeers  striking  his  head  against  it  in  his  descent,  lay  at  his 
full  length  on  the  ground,  stunned  and  motionless. 

Having  brought  affairs  to  this  happy  termination,  and 
ascertained,  to  his  thorough  satisfaction,  that  Squeers  was 
only  stunned,  and  not  dead  (upon  which  point  he  had  had 
some  unpleasant  doubts  at  first),  Nicholas  left  his  family  to 
restore  him,  and  retired  to  consider  what  course  he  had  bet- 
ter adopt.  He  looked  anxiously  round  for  Smike,  as  he  left 
the  room,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

After  a  brief  consideration,  he  packed  up  a  few  clothes  in 
a  small  leathern  valise,  and,  finding  that  nobody  offered  to 
oppose  his  progress,  marched  boldly  out  by  the  front  door, 
and  shortly  afterwards,  struck  into  the  road  which  led  to 
Greta  Bridge. 

When  he  had  cooled,  sufficiently  to  be  enabled  to  give  his 
present  circumstances  some  little  reflection,  they  did  not  ap- 
pear in  a  very  encouraging  light;  he  had  only  four  shillings 
and  a  few  pence  in  his  pocket,  and  was  something  more  than 
two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  London,  whither  he  resolved 
to  direct  his  steps,  that  he  might  ascertain,  among  other 
things,  what  account  of  the  morning's  proceedings  Mr.  Squeers 
transmitted  to  his  most  affectionate  uncle. 

Lifting  up  liis  eyes,  as  he  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
there  was  no  remedy  for  this  unfortunate  state  of  things,  he 
beheld  a  horseman  coming  towards  him,  whom,  on  nearer  ap- 
proach, he  discovered,  to  his  infinite  chagrin,  to  be  no  other 
than  Mr.  John  Browdie,  who,  clad  in  cords  and  leather  leggings, 
was  urging  his  animal  forward  by  means  of  a  thick  ash  stick, 
which  seemed  to  have  been  recently  cut  from  some  stout 
sapling. 

"  I  am  in  no  mood  for  more  noise  and  riot,"  thought 
Nicholas,  "  and  yet,  do  what  I  will,  I  shall  have  an  altercation 
with  this  honest  blockhead,  and  perhaps  a  blow  or  two  from 
yonder  staff." 

In  truth  there  appeared  some  reason  to  expect  that  such 
a  result  would  follow  from  the  encounter,  for  John  Browdie 
no  sooner  saw  Nicholas  advancing,  than  he  reined  in  his 
horse  by  the  footpath,  and  waited  until  such  time  as  he  should 
come  up  ;  looking  meanwhile,  very  sternly  between  the  horse's 
ears,  at  Nicholas,  as  he  came  on  at  his  leisure. 

"  Servant,  young  genelman,"  said  John. 

"Yours,"  said  Nicholas. 


1 60  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

"  Weel ;  we  ha'  met  at  last,"  observed  John,  making  the 
stirrup  ring  under  a  smart  touch  of  the  ash  stick. 

"  Yes,"  repHed  Nicholas,  hesitating.  "  Come  !  "  he  said, 
frankly,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  we  parted  on  no  very  good 
terms  the  last  time  we  met ;  it  was  my  fault,  I  believe  ;  but  I 
had  no  intention  of  offending  you,  and  no  idea  that  I  was  do- 
ing so.  I  was  very  sorry  for  it  afterwards.  Will  vou  shake 
hands  ?  " 

"  Shake  hands  !  "  cried  the  good-humored  Yorkshireman  ; 
"  ah  !  that  I  weel  ; ""  at  the  same  time  he  bent  down  from  the 
saddle,  and  gave  Nicholas's  fist  a  huge  wrench  ;  "  but  wa'at 
be  the  matther  wi'  .thy  feace,  mun  ?  it  be  all  brokken  loike." 

"  It  is  a  cut,"  said  Nicholas,  turning  scarlet  as  he  spoke, 
— "  a  blow  ;  but  I  returned  it  to  the  giver,  and  with  good 
interest  too."  ' 

"  Noa,  did'ee  though  ?  "  exclaimed  John  Browdie.  "  Well 
deane  !     I  loike  'un  for  thot." 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Nicholas,  not  very  well  knowing  how 
to  make  the  avowal,  "  the  fact  is,  that  I  have  been  ill-treated." 

"  Noa  !  "  interposed  John  Browdie,  in  atone  of  compassion  ; 
for  he  was  a  giant  in  strength  and  stature,  and  Nicholas,  very 
likely,  in  his  eyes,  seemed  a  mere  dwarf;  "  dean't  say  thot." 

"Yes,  I  have,"  replied  Nicholas,  "by  that  man  Squeers, 
and  I  have  beaten  him  soundly,  and  am  leaving  this  place  in 
consequence." 

"What!  "  cried  John  Browdie,  with  such  an  ecstatic  shout, 
that  the  horse  quite  shied  at  it.  "  Beatten  the  schoolmeasther  ! 
Ho  !  ho  !  ho  '  Beatten  the  schoolmeasther  !  who  e\er  heard 
o'  the  loike  o'  that  noo  !  Giv'  us  thee  hond  agean,  yongster. 
Beatten  the  schoolmeasther!     Dang  it.  Hoove  thee  for't." 

With  these  expressions  of  delight,  John  Browdie  laughed 
and  laughed  again — so  loud  that  the  echoes,  far  and  wide, 
sent  back  nothing  but  jovial  peals  of  merriment — and  shook 
Nicholas  by  the  hand  meanwhile,  no  less  heartily.  When  his 
mirth  had  subsided,  he  inquired  what  Nicholas  meant  to  do ; 
on  his  informing  him,  to  go  straight  to  London,  he  shook  his 
head  doubtfully,  and  inquired  if  he  knew  how  much  the 
coaches  charged,  to  carry  passengers  so  far. 

"No,  I  do  not,"  said  Nicholas;  "but  it  is  of  no  great 
consequence  to  me,  for  I  intend  walking." 

"  Gang  awa'  to  Lunnun  afoot  !  "  cried  John  in  amazement. 

"  Every  step  of  the  way,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  I  should  be 
many  steps  further  on  by  this  time,  and  so  good-by  !  " 


NIC  HO  L  A  S  NICKLEB  Y.  1 6 1 

"  Nay  n  )o,"  replied  the  honest  countryman,  reining  in  his 
impatient  horse,  "  stan'  still,  tellee.  Hoo  much  cash  hast 
thee  gotten  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  said  Nicholas,  coloring,  "  but  I  can  make  it 
enough.     Where  there's  a  will,  there's  a  way,  you  know." 

John  Browdie  made  no  verbal  answer  to  this  remark,  but 
putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  pulled  out  an  old  purse  of 
soiled  leather,  and  insisted  that  Nicholas  should  borrow  from 
him  whatever  he  required  for  his  present  necessities. 

"  Dean't  be  afeard,  mun,"  he  said;  "  tak' eneaf  to  carry 
thee  whoam.     Thee'lt  pay  me  yan  da}',  a'  warrant." 

Nicholas  could  by  no  means  be  prevailed  upon  to  borrow 
more  than  a  sovereign,  with  which  loan  Mr.  Browdie,  after 
many  entreaties  that  he  would  accept  of  more  (observing,  with 
a  touch  of  Yorkshire  caution,  that  if  he  didn't  spend  it  all,  he 
could  put  the  surplus  by,  till  he  had  an  opportunity  of  remit- 
ting it  carriage  free),  was  fain  to  content  himself. 

"Tak'  that  bit  o' timber  to  help  thee  on  wi'  mun,"  he 
added,  pressing  his  stick  on  Nicholas,  and  giving  his  hand  an- 
other squeeze  ;  "  keep  a  good  heart,  and  bless  thee.  Beatten 
the  schoolmeasther  !  'Cod  it's  the  best  thing  a've  heerd  this 
twonty  year  !  " 

So  saying,  and  indulging,  with  more  delicacy  than  might 
have  been  expected  from  him,  in  another  series  of  loud  laughs, 
for  the  purpose  of  avoiding  the  thanks  which  Nicholas  poured 
forth,  John  Browdie  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  went  off  at  a 
smart  canter  :  looking  back,  from  time  to  time,  as  Nicholas 
stood  gazing  after  him,  and  waving  his  hand  cheerily,  as  if  to 
encourage  him  on  his  way.  Nicholas  watched  the  horse  and 
rider  until  they  disappeared  over  the  brow  of  a  distant  hill, 
and  then  set  forward  on  his  journey. 

He  did  not  travel  far,  that  afternoon,  for  by  this  time  it 
was  nearly  dark,  and  there  had  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow, 
which  not  only  rendered  the  way  toilsome,  but  the  track  uncer- 
tain and  difficult  to  find,  after  daylight,  save  by  experienced 
wayfarers.  He  lay,  that  night,  at  a  cottage,  where  beds  were 
let  at  a  cheap  rate  to  the  more  humble  class  of  travellers ; 
and,  rising  betimes  next  morning,  made  his  way  before  night 
to  Boroughbridge.  Passing  through  that  town  in  search  of 
some  cheap  resting-place,  he  stumbled  upon  an  empty  barn 
within  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  of  the  road  side  ;  in  a  warm 
corner  of  which,  he  stretched  his  weary  limbs,  and  soon  fell 
asleep.  ii 


1 62  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

When  he  awoke  next  morning,  and  tried  to  recollect  his 
dreams,  which  had  been  all  connected  with  his  recent  sojourn 
at  Dotheboys  Hall,  he  sat  up,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  stared — 
not  with  the  most  composed  countenance  possible — at  some 
motionless  object  which  seemed  to  be  stationed  within  a  few 
yards  in  front  of  him. 

"  Strange  !  "  cried  Nicholas  ;  "  can  this  be  some  lingering 
creation  of  the  visions  that  have  scarcely  left  me  !  It  cannot 
be  real — and  yet  I — I  am  awake  I     Smike  !  " 

The  form  moved,  rose,  advanced,  and  dropped  upon  its 
knees  at  his  feet.     It  was  Smike  indeed. 

"Why  do  you  kneel  to  me?"  said  Nicholas,  hastily  rais- 
ing him. 

"  To  go  with  you — anywhere — ever\^where — to  the  world's 
end — to  the  churchyard  grave,"  replied  Smike,  clinging  to  his 
hand.  "  Let  me,  oh  do  let  me.  You  are  my  home — my  kind 
friend — take  me  with  you,  pray." 

"  I  am  a  friend  who  can  do  little  for  you,"  said  Nicholas, 
kindly.     "  How  came  you  here  ?  " 

He  had  followed  him,  it  seemed ;  had  never  lost  sight  of 
him  all  the  way  ;  had  watched  while  he  slept,  and  when  he 
halted  for  refreshment  ;  and  had  feared  to  appear,  before, 
lest  he  should  be  sent  back.  He  had  not  intended  to  appear 
now,  but  Nicholas  had  awakened  more  suddenly  than  he 
looked  for,  and  he  had  had  no  time  to  conceal  himself. 

"  Poor  fellow !  "  said  Nicholas,  "  your  hard  fate  denies 
you  any  friend  but  one,  and  he  is  nearly  as  poor  and  helpless 
as  yourself." 

"  May  I — may  I  go  with  you  ?  "  asked  Smike,  timidly. 
"  I  will  be  your  faithful  hard-working  servant,  I  will,  indeed. 
I  want  no  clothes,"  added  the  poor  creature,  drawing  his  rags 
together ;  these  will  do  verv  well.  I  only  want  to  be  near 
you." 

"And  you  shall,"  cried  Nicholas.  "And  the  w^orld  shall 
deal  by  you  as  it  does  by  me,  till  one  or  both  of  us  shall  quit 
it  for  a  better.     Come  !  " 

With  these  words,  he  strapped  his  burden  on  his  shoulders, 
and,  taking  his  stick  in  one  hand,  extended  the  other  to  his 
delighted  charge ;  and  so  they  passed  out  of  the  old  barn, 
together. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY, 


163 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

HAVING  THE  MISFORTUNE  TO  TREAT  OF  NONE  BUT  COMMON 
PEOPLE,  IS  NECESSARILY  OF  A  MEAN  AND  VULGAR  CHAR- 
ACTER. 

In  that  quarter  of  London  in  which  Golden  Square  is  sit- 
uated, there  is  a  bygone  faded,  tumble-down  street,  with  two 
irregular  rows  of  tall  meagre  houses,  which  seem  to  have 
stared  each  other  out  of  countenance,  years  ago.  The  very 
chimneys  appear  to  have  grown  dismal  and  melancholy,  from 
having  had  nothing  better  to  look  at,  than  the  chimneys  over 
the  way.  Their  tops  are  battered,  and  broken,  and  blackened 
with  smoke ;  and,  here  and  there,  some  taller  stack  than  the 
rest,  inclining  heavily  to  one  side,  and  toppling  over  the  roof, 
seems  to  meditate  taking  revenge  for  half  a  centur}-"s  neglect, 
by  crushing  the  inhabitants  of  the  garrets  beneath. 

The  fowls  who  peck  about  the  kennels,  jerking  their  bodies 
hither  and  thither  with  a  gait  which  none  but  town  fowls  are 
ever  seen  to  adopt,  and  which  any  country  cock  or  hen  would 
be  puzzled  to  understand,  are  perfectly  in  keeping  with  the 
crazy  habitations  of  their  owners.  Dingy,  ill-plumed  drowsy 
flutterers,  sent,  like  many  of  the  neighboring  children,  to  get 
a  livelihood  in  the  streets,  they  hop,  from  stone  to  stone,  in 
forlorn  search  of  some  hidden  eatable  in  the  mud,  and  can 
scarcely  raise  a  crow  among  them.  The  only  one  w'ith  any- 
thing approaching  to  a  voice,  is  an  aged  bantam  at  the 
baker's  ;  and  even  he  is  hoarse,  in  consequence  of  bad  living 
in  his  last  place. 

To  judge  from  the  size  of  the  houses,  they  have  been,  at 
one  time,  tenanted  by  persons  of  better  condition  than  their 
present  occupants.;  but  they  are  now  let  off,  by  the  week,  in 
floors  or  rooms,  and  every  door  has  almost  as  many  plates  or 
bell-handles  as  there  are  apartments  within.  The  windows 
are,  for  the  same  reason,  sufticiently  diversified  in  appearance, 
being  ornamented  with  ever)-  variety  of  common  blind  and 
curtain  that  can  easily  be  imagined  ;  while  every  doonvay  is 
blocked  up,  and  rendered  nearly  impassible,  by  a  motley 
collection  of  children  and  porter  pots  of  all  sizes,  from  the 


164  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

baby  in  arms  and  the  half-pint  pot,  to  the  full-grown  girl  and 
half-gallon  can. 

In  the  parlor  of  one  of  these  houses,  which  was  perhaps 
a  thought  dirtier  than  any  of  its  neighbors  ;  which  exhibited 
more  bell-handles,  children,  and  porter  pots,  and  caught  in  all 
its  freshness  the  first  gust  of  the  thick  black  smoke  that  poured 
forth,  night  and  day,  from  a  large  brewery  hard  by  ;  hung  a 
bill,  announcing  that  there  was  yet  one  room  to  let  within  its 
walls,  though  on  what  story  the  vacant  room  could  be — regard 
being  had  to  the  outward  tokens  of  many  lodgers  which  the 
whole  front  displayed,  from  the  mangle  in  the  kitchen  window 
to  the  flower-pots  on  the  parapet — it  would  have  been  beyond 
the  power  of  a  calculating  boy  to  discover. 

The  common  stairs  of  this  mansion  were  bare  and  carpet- 
less  ;  but  a  curious  visitor  who  had  to  climb  his  way  to  the 
top,  might  have  observed  that  there  were  not  wanting  indica- 
tions of  the  progressive  poverty  of  the  inmates,  although  their 
rooms  were  shut.  Thus,  the  first-floor  lodgers,  being  flush  of 
furniture,  kept  an  old  mahogany  table — real  mahogany — on 
the  landing-place  outside,  which  was  only  taken  in,  when 
occasion  required.  On  the  second  stor)',  the  spare  furniture 
dwindled  down  to  a  couple  of  old  deal  chairs,  of  which  one, 
belonging  to  the  back  room,  was  shorn  of  a  leg,  and  bottom- 
less. The  storv  above,  boasted  no  greater  excess  than  a 
worm-eaten  wash-tub  ;  and  the  garret  landing-place  displayed 
no  costlier  articles  than  two  crippled  pitchers,  and  some  broken 
blacking-bottles. 

It  was  on  this  garret  landing-place  that  a  hard-featured 
square-faced  man,  elderly  and  shabby,  stopped  to  unlock  the 
door  of  the  front  attic,  into  which,  having  surmounted  the  task 
of  turning  the  rusty  key  in  its  still  more  rusty  wards,  he  walked 
with  the  air  of  legal  owner. 

This  person  wore  a  wig  of  short,  coarse,  red  hair,  which 
he  took  off  with  his  hat,  and  hung  upon  a  nail.  Having 
adopted  in  its  place  a  dirty  cotton  nightcap,  and  groped  about 
in  the  dark  till  he  found  a  remnant  of  candle,  he  knocked  at 
the  partition  which  divided  the  two  garrets,  and  inquired,  in 
a  loud  voice,  whether  Mr.  Noggs  had  a  light. 

The  sounds  that  came  back,  were  stifled  by  the  lath  and 
plaster,  and  it  seemed  moreover  as  though  the  speaker  had 
uttered  them  from  the  interior  of  a  mug  or  other  drinking 
vessel  ;  but  they  were  in  the  voice  of  Newman,  and  conveyed 
a  reply  in  the  affirmative. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


^(>5 


"  A  nasty  night,  Mr.  Noggs  !  "  said  the  man  in  the  night- 
cap, stepping  in  to  light  his  candle. 

"  Does  it  rain  ?  "  asked  Newman. 

"  Does  it  ? "  replied  the  other  pettishly.  "  I  am  wet 
through." 

"  It  dosen't  take  much  to  wet  you  and  me  through,  Mr. 
Crowl,"  said  Newman,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  lappel  of  his 
threadbare  coat. 

"Well  ;  and  that  makes  it  the  more  vexatious,"  observed 
Mr.  Crowl,  in  the  same  pettish  tone. 

Uttering  a  low  querulous  growl,  the  speaker,  whose  harsh 
countenance  was  the  very  epitome  of  selfishness,  raked  the 
scanty  fire  nearly  out  of  the  grate,  and,  emptying  the  glass 
which  Noggs  had  pushed  towards  him,  inquired  where  he  kept 
his  coals. 

Newman  Noggs  pointed  to  the  bottom  of  a  cupboard,  and 
Mr.  Crowl,  seizing  the  shovel,  threw  on  half  the  stock  :  which 
Noggs  very  deliberately  took  off  again,  without  saying  a  word. 

"  You  have  not  turned  saving,  at  this  time  of  day,  I  hope  ?  " 
said  Crowl. 

Newman  pointed  to  the  empty  glass,  as  though  it  were  a 
sufficient  refutation  of  the  charge,  and  briefly  said  that  he  was 
going  down  stairs  to  supper. 

"  To  the  Kenwigses  ?  "  asked  Crowl. 

Newman  nodded  assent. 

"  Think  of  that  now  !  "  said  Crowl.  "  If  I  didn't— think- 
ing that  you  were  certain  not  to  go,  because  you  said  you 
wouldn't — tell  Kenwigs  I  couldn't  come,  and  make  up  my 
mind  to  spend  the  evening  with  you  !  " 

"  I  was  obliged  to  go,"  said  Newman.     "  They  would  have 


me." 


"  Well  ;  but  what's  to  become  of  me  ?  "  urged  the  selfish 
man,  who  never  thought  of  anybody  else.  "  It's  all  your 
fault.  I'll  tell  you  what — I'll  sit  by  your  fire  till  you  come 
back  again." 

Newman  cast  a  despairing  glance  at  his  small  store  of  fuel, 
but,  not  having  the  courage  to  say  no — a  word  which  in  all 
his  life  he  never  had  said  at  the  right  time,  either  to  himself 
or  any  one  else — gave  way  to  the  proposed  arrangement.  Mr. 
Crowl  immediately  went  about  making  himself  as  comfortable, 
with  Newman  Noggs's  means,  as  circumstances  would  admit 
of  his  being  made. 

The  lodgers  to  whom  Crowl  had  made  allusion  under  the 


1 66  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

designation  of  "  the   Kenwigses,"    were   the  wife   and   olive 
branches   of  one   Mr.  Kenwigs,    a  turner   in   ivor)^,  who   was 
looked  upon  as  a  person  of  some  consideration    on  the   prem- 
ises, inasmuch   as  he  occupied  the  whole   of  the   first  floor, 
comprising   a  suite   of  two   rooms.     Mrs.    Kenwigs,  too,  was 
quite   a   lady  in    her  manners,  and   of  a   very  genteel   family, 
having  an   uncle  who  collected  a   water-rate  ;  besides  which 
distinction,  the  two  eldest  of  her  little  girls  went  twice  a  week 
to  a  dancing  school  in  the  neighborhood,  and  had  flaxen  hair, 
tied  with  blue   ribands,    hanging   in  luxuriant  pigtails    down 
their  backs  ;  and   wore  little   white  trousers  with  frills  round 
the   ankles  for  all   of  which  reasons,  and  many   more  equally 
valid  but   too  numerous  to  mention,  Mrs.  Kenwigs   was  con- 
sidered a  very  desirable  person  to  know,  and  was  the  constant 
theme  of  all  the  gossips  in  the  street,  and  even  three  or  four 
doors  round  the  corner  at  both  ends. 

It  was  the  anniversary  of  that  happy  day  on  which  the 
church  of  England  as  by  law  established,  had  bestowed  Mrs. 
Kenwigs  upon  Mr.  Kenwigs  ;  and  in  grateful  commemoration 
of  the  same,  Mrs.  Kenwigs  had  invited  a  few  select  friends  to 
cards  and  a  supper  in  the  first  floor,  and  had  put  on  a  new 
gown  to  receive  them  in  :  which  gown,  being  of  a  flaming 
color  and  made  upon  a  juvenile  principle,  was  so  successful 
that  Mr.  Kenwigs  said  the  eight  years  of  matrimony  and  the 
five  children  seemed  all  a  dream,  and  Mrs.  Kenwigs  younger 
and  more  blooming  than  on  the  very  first  Sunday  he  had  kept 
CD.npany  with  her. 

Beautiful  as  Mrs.  Kenwigs  looked  when  she  was  dressed 
though,  and  so  stately  that  you  would  have  supposed  she  had 
a  cook  and  housemaid  at  least,  and  nothing  to  do  but  order 
them  about,  she  had  a  world  of  trouble  with  the  preparations ; 
more,  indeed,  than  she,  being  of  a  delicate  and  genteel  con- 
stitution, could  have  sustained,  had  not  the  pride  of  housewifery 
upheld  her.  At  last,  however,  all  the  things  that  had  to  be 
got  together  were  got  together,  and  all  the  things  that  had  to 
be  got  out  of  the  way  were  got  out  of  the  way,  and  everything 
was  ready,  and  the  collector  himself  having  promised  to  come, 
fortune  smiled  upon  the  occasion. 

The  party  was  admirably  selected.  There  were,  first  of 
all,  Mr.  Kenwigs  and  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  and  four  olive  Kenwigses 
who  sat  up  to  supper ;  firstly,  because  it  was  but  right  that 
they  should  have  a  treat  on  such  a  day  ;  and  secondly,  because 
their  going  to  bed,  in  presence  of  the   company,  would  have 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  167 

been  inconvenient,  not  to  say  improper.  Then,  there  was  a 
young-  lady  who  had  made  Mrs.  Kenwigs's  dress,  and  who — 
it  was  the  most  convenient  thing  in  the  world — living  in  the 
two-pair  back,  gave  up  her  bed  to  the  baby,  and  got  a  little 
girl  to  watch  it.  Then,  to  match  this  young  lady,  was  a  young 
man,  who  had  knows  Mr.  Kenwigs  when  he  was  a  bachelor, 
and  was  much  esteemed  by  the  ladies,  as  bearing  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  rake.  To  these,  were  added  a  newly-married  couple, 
who  had  visited  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kenwigs  in  their  courtship  ; 
and  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Kenwigs's,  who  was  quite  a  beauty;  be- 
sides whom,  there  was  another  young  man,  supposed  to  enter- 
tain honorable  designs  upon  the  lady  last  mentioned  ;  and 
Mr.  Noggs,  who  was  a  genteel  person  to  ask,  because  he  had 
been  a  gentleman  once.  There  were  also  an  elderly  lady  from 
the  back  parlor,  and  one  more  young  lady,  who,  next  to  the 
collector,  perhaps  was  the  great  lion  of  the  party,  being  the 
daughter  of  a  theatrical  fireman,  who  "went  on"  in  the  pan- 
tomine,  and  had  the  greatest  turn  for  the  stage  that  was  ever 
known,  being  able  to  sing  and  recite  in  a  manner  that  brought 
the  tears  into  Mrs.  Kenwigs's  eyes.  There  was  only  one  draw- 
back upon  the  pleasure  of  seeing  such  friends,  and  that  was, 
that  the  lady  in  the  back  parlor,  who  was  very  fat,  and  turned 
of  sixt}',  came  in  a  low  book-muslin  dress  and  short  kid  gloves, 
which  so  exasperated  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  that  that  lady  assured  her 
visitors,  in  private,  that  if  it  hadn't  happened  that  the  supper 
was  cooking  at  the  back-parlor  grate  at  that  moment,  she 
certainly  would  have  requested  its  representative  to  withdraw. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  "wouldn't  it  be  better  to 
begin  a  round  game  ?  " 

"  Kenwigs,  my  dear,"  returned  his  wife,  "  I  am  surprised 
at  you.     Would  you  begin  without  my  uncle  ?  " 

"  I  forgot  the  collector,"  said  Kenwigs  ;  "  oh  no,  that 
would  never  do." 

"  He's  so  particular,"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  turning  to  the 
other  married  lady,  "  that  if  we  began  without  him,  I  should 
be  out  of  his  will  for  ever." 

"  Dear  !  "  cried  the  married  lady. 

"  You've  no  idea  what  he  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Kenwigs  ; "  and 
yet  as  good  a  creature  as  ever  breathed." 

"  The  kindest-hearted  man  as  ever  was,"  said  Kenwigs. 

"  It  goes  to  his  heart,  I  believe,  to  be  forced  to  cut  the 
water  off,  when  the  people  don't  pay,"  observed  the  bachelor 
friend,  intending  a  joke. 


1 68  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

George,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  solemnly,  "none  of  that,  if 
you  please." 

"  It  was  only  my  joke,"  said  the  friend,  abashed. 

"George,"  rejoined  Mr.  Kenwigs,  "  a  joke  is  a  wery  good 
thing — a  wery  good  thing — but  when  that  joke  is  made  at  the 
expense  of  Mrs.  Kenwigs's  feelings,  I  set  my  face  against  it. 
A  man  in  public  life  expects  to  be  sneered  at — it  is  the  fault 
of  his  elewated  sitiwation,  and  not  of  himself.  Mrs.  Kenwigs's 
relation  is  a  public  man,  and  that  he  knows,  George,  and  that 
he  can  bear  ;  but  putting  Mrs.  Kenwigs  out  of  the  question 
(if  I  could  put  Mrs.  Kenwigs  out  of  the  question  on  such  an 
occasion  as  this),  I  have  the  honor  to  be  connected  with  the 
collector  by  marriage  ;  and  I  cannot  allow  these  remarks  in 
my — "  Mr.  Kenwigs  was  going  to  say  "house,"  but  he 
rounded  the  sentence  with  "  apartments." 

At  the  conclusion  of  these  observations,  which  drew  forth 
evidences  of  acute  feeling  from  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  and  had  the  in- 
tended effect  of  impressing  the  company  with  a  deep  sense  of 
the  collector's  dignity,  a  ring  was  heard  at  the  bell. 

"  That's  him,"  whispered  Mr.  Kenwigs,  greatly  excited, 
"  Morleena,  my  dear,  run  down  and  let  your  uncle  in,  and 
kiss  him  directly  you  get  the  door  open.  Hem  !  Let's  be 
talking." 

Adopting  Mr.  Kenwigs's  suggestion,  the  company  spoke 
very  loudly,  to  look  easy  and  unembarrassed  ;  and  almost  as 
soon  as  they  had  begun  to  do  so,  a  short  old  gentleman  in 
drabs  and  gaiters,  with  a  face  that  might  have  been  carved 
out  of  lignum  vitce,  for  anything  that  appeared  to  the  contrary, 
was  led  playfully  in  by  Miss  Morleena  Kenwigs,  regarding 
whose  uncommon  Christian  name  it  may  be  here  remarked 
that  it  had  been  invented  and  composed  by  Mrs.  Kenwigs 
previous  to  her  first  lying-in,  for  the  special  distinction  of  her 
eldest  child,  in  case  it  should  prove  a  daughter. 

"  Oh,  uncle,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs, 
kissing  the  collector  affectionately  on  both  cheeks.  "  So 
glad  ! " 

"  Many  happy  returns  of  the  day,  my  dear,"  replied  the 
collector,  returning  the  compliment. 

Now,  this  was  an  interesting  thing.  Here  w-as  a  collector 
of  water-rates,  without  his  book,  without  his  pen  and  ink, 
without  his  double  knock,  without  his  intimidation,  kissing — 
actually  kissing — an  agreeable  female,  and  leaving  taxes,  sum- 
monses, notices  that  he  had  called,  or  announcements  that  he 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


169 


would  never  call  again,  for  two  quarters'  due,  wholly  out  of 
the  question.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  how  the  company  looked 
on,  quite  absorbed  in  the  sight,  and  to  behold  the  nods  and 
winks  with  which  they  expressed  their  gratification  at  finding 
so  much  humanity  in  a  tax-gatherer. 

"  Where  will  you  sit,  uncle  .' "  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  in  the 
full  glow  of  family  pride,  which  the  appearance  of  her  distin- 
guished relation  occasioned. 

"  Anywheres,  my  dear,"  said  the  collector,  "  I  am  not  par- 
ticular." 

Not  particular  !  What  a  meek  collector.  If  he  had  been 
an  author,  who  knew  his  place,  he  couldn't  have  been  more 
humble. 

"Mr.  Lillyvick,"  said  Kenwigs,  addressing  the  collector, 
"  some  friends  here,  sir,  are  very  anxious  for  the  honor  of — 
thank  you — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cutler,  Mr.  Lillyvick." 

"  Proud  to  know  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Cutler,  "  I've  heerd  of 
you  very  often."  These  were  not  mere  words  of  ceremony  ; 
for,  Mr.  Cutler,  having  kept  house  in  Mr.  Lillyvick's  parish, 
had  heard  of  him  very  often  indeed.  His  attention  in  calling 
had  been  quite  extraordinar}-. 

"  George,  you  know,  I  think,  Mr.  Lillyvick,"  said  Ken- 
wigs ;  "  lady  from  down  stairs — Mr.  Lillyvick,  Mr.  Snewkes 
— Mr.  Lillyvick.  Miss  Green — Mr.  Lilly\ick.  Mr.  Lillyvick 
— Miss  Petowker,  of  the  Theatre  Royal,  Drur}'  Lane.  Veiy 
glad  to  make  two  public  characters  acquainted  !  Mrs  Ken- 
wigs, my  dear,  will  you  sort  the  counters  ? " 

Mrs.  Kenwigs,  with  the  assistance  of  Newman  Noggs, 
(who,  as  he  performed  sundry  little  acts  of  kindness  for  the 
children,  at  all  times  and  seasons,  was  humored  in  his  request 
to  be  taken  no  notice  of,  and  was  merely  spoken  about,  in  a 
whisper,  as  a  decayed  gentleman),  did  as  she  was  desired  ; 
and  the  greater  part  of  the  guests  sat  down  to  speculation, 
while  Newman  himself,  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  and  Miss  Petowker  of 
the  Theatre  Royal,  Drury  Lane,  looked  after  the  supper-table. 

While  the  ladies  were  thus  busjdng  themselves,  Mr.  Lilly- 
vick was  intent  upon  the  game  in  progress,  and  as  all  should 
be  fish  that  comes  to  a  water  collector's  net,  the  dear  old  gen- 
tleman was  by  no  means  scrupulous  in  appropriating  to  him- 
self the  property  of  his  neighbors,  which,  on  the  contrary,  he 
abstracted  whenever  an  opportunity  presented  itself,  smiling 
good-humoredly  all  the  while,  and  making  so  many  condescend- 
ing speeches  to  the  owners,  that  they  were  delighted  with  his 


lyo 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


amiability,  and  thought  in  their  hearts  that  he  deserved  to  be 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  at  least. 

After  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  the  administration  of 
many  slaps  on  the  head  to  the  infant  Kenwigses,  whereof  two 
of  the  most  rebellious  were  summarily  banished,  the  cloth  was 
laid  with  much  elegance,  and  a  pair  of  boiled  fowls,  a  large 
piece  of  pork,  apple-pie,  potatoes  and  greens,  were  served  ;  at 
sight  of  which,  the  worthy  Mr.  Lillyvick  vented  a  great  many 
witticisms,  and  plucked  up  amazingly :  to  the  immense  delight 
and  satisfaction  of  the  whole  bodv  of  admirers. 

Very  well  and  very  fast  the  supper  went  off ;  no  more 
serious  difficulties  occurring,  than  those  which  arose  from  the 
incessant  demand  for  clean  knives  and  forks  :  which  made 
poor  Mrs.  Ken  wigs  wish,  more  than  once,  that  private  society 
adopted  the  principle  of  schools,  and  required  that  ever)' guest 
should  bring  his  own  knife,  fork  and  spoon  ;  which  doubtless 
would  be  a  great  accommodation  in  many  cases,  and  to  no  one 
more  so  than  to  the  lady  and  gentleman  of  the  house,  espec- 
ially if  the  school  principle  were  carried  out  to  the  full  extent, 
and  the  articles  were  expected,  as  a  matter  of  delicacy,  not  to 
be  taken  away  again. 

Everybody  having  eaten  everything,  the  table  was  cleared 
in  a  most  alarming  hurry,  and  with  great  noise  ;  and  the 
'Spirits,  whereat  the  eyes  of  Newman  Noggs  glistened,  being 
arranged  in  order,  with  water  both  hot  and  cold,  the  party 
composed  themselves  for  conviviality  ;  Mr.  Lillyvick  being 
stationed  in  a  large  arm-chair  by  the  fire-side,  and  the  four 
little  Kenwigses  disposed  on  a  small  form  in  front  of  the  com- 
pany with  their  flaxen  tails  towards  them,  and  their  faces  to 
the  fire  ;  an  arrangement  which  was  no  sooner  perfected,  than 
Mrs.  Kenwigs  was  overpowered  by  the  feelings  of  a  mother, 
and  fell  upon  the  left  shoulder  of  Mr.  Kenwigs  dissolved  in 
tears. 

"  They  are  so  beautiful !  "  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  sobbing. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  said  all  the  ladies,  "  so  they  are  !  it's  very  nat- 
ural you  should  feel  proud  of  that ;  but  don't  give  way,  don't." 

"  I  can — not  help  it,  and  it  don't  signify,"  sobbed  Mrs. 
Kenwigs  ;  "  oh !  they're  too  beautiful  to  live,  much  too  beau- 
tiful !  " 

On  hearing  this  alarming  presentiment  of  their  being 
doomed  to  an  early  death  in  the  flower  of  their  infancy,  all 
four  little  girls  raised  a  hideous  cry,  and  bur}'ing  their  heads 
in  their  mother's  lap  simultaneously,  screamed  until  the  eight 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  17 1 

flaxen  tails  vibrated  again  ;  Mrs.  Kenwigs  meanwhile  clasping 
them  alternately  to  her  bosom,  with  attitudes  expressive  of 
distraction,  which  Miss  Petowker  herself  might  have  copied. 

At  length,  the  anxious  mother  permitted  herself  to  be 
soothed  into  a  more  tranquil  state,  and  the  little  Kenwigses, 
being  also  composed,  were  distributed  among  the  company, 
to  prevent  the  possibility  of  Mrs.  Kenwigs  being  again  over- 
come by  the  blaze  of  their  combined  beauty.  This  done,  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  united  in  prophesying  that  they  would 
live  for  many,  many  years,  and  that  there  was  no  occasion  at 
all  for  Mrs.  Kenwigs  to  distress  herself :  which,  in  good  truth, 
there  did  not  appear  to  be :  the  loveliness  of  the  children  by 
no  means  justifying  her  apprehensions. 

"This  day  eight  year,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs  after  a  pause. 
"  Dear  me — ah  !  " 

This  reflection  was  echoed  by  all  present,  who  said  "  Ah  !  " 
first,  and  "  dear  me,"  afterwards. 

"  I  was  younger  then,"  tittered  Mrs.  Kenwigs. 

"No,"  said  the  collector. 

"Certainly  not,"  added  everybody. 

"I  remember  my  niece,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  surveying  his 
audience  with  a  grave  air  ;  "  I  remember  her,  on  that  very 
afternoon,  when  she  first  acknowledged  to  her  mother  a  par- 
tiality for  Kenwigs.     '  Mother.'  she  says,  '  I  love  him.'  " 

"'Adore  him,'  I  said,  uncle,"  interposed  Mrs.  Kenwigs. 

"  '  Love  him,'  I"  think,  my  dear,"  said  the  collector  firmly. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  uncle,"  replied  Mrs.  Kenwigs, 
submissively.     "  I  thought  it  was  '  adore.'  " 

"  '  Love,'  my  dear,"  retorted  Mr.  Lillyvick.  "  '  Mother,' 
she  says,  '  I  love  him !  '  '  What  do  I  hear  ? '  cries  her 
mother;  and  instantly  falls  into  strong  conwulsions." 

A  general  exclamation  of  astonishment  burst  from  the 
company, 

"  Into  strong  conwulsions,"  repeated  Mr.  Lilly^'ick,  re- 
garding them  with  a  rigid  look.  "  Kenwigs  will  excuse  my 
saying,  in  the  presence  of  friends,  that  there  was  a  very  great 
objection  to  him,  on  the  ground  that  he  was  beneath  the 
family,  and  would  disgrace  it.     You  remember,  Kenwigs  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  that  gentleman,  in  no  way  displeased 
at  the  reminiscence,  inasmuch  as  it  proved,  beyond  all  doubt, 
what  a  high  family  Mrs.  Kenwigs  came  of. 

"  I  shared  in  that  feeling,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick  :  "perhaps 
it  was  natural :  perhaps  it  wasn't." 


272  •  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

A  gentle  murmur  seemed  to  say,  that.,  in  one  of  Mr.  Lilly- 
vick's  station,  the  objection  was  not  only  natural,  but  highly 
praiseworthy. 

"  1    came    round    to    him    in    time,"    said    Mr.    Lilly vick. 
"  After  they  were  married,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it,  1  was 
one  of  the  first  to  say  that  Kenwigs  must  be  taken  notice  of. 
The  family  did  take  notice  of  him,  in  consequence,  and  on  my 
representation  ;  and  I  am  bound  to  say — and  proud  to  say — 
that  I  have  always  found  him  a  very  honest,  well-behaved, 
upright,  respectable  sort  of  a  man.       Kenwigs,  shake  hands." 
"  I  am  proud  to  do  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs. 
"So  am  I,  Kenwigs,"  rejoined  Mr.  Lillyvick. 
"  A  very  happy  life  I  have  led   with  your  niece,  sir,"  said 
Kenwigs. 

"  it  would  have  been  your  own  fault  if  you  had  not,  sir," 
remarked  Mr.  Lillyvick. 

"  Morleena  Kenwigs,"  cried  her  mother,  at  this  crisis, 
much  affected,  "  kiss  your  dear  uncle  !  " 

The  young  lady  did  as  she  was  requested,  and  the  three 
other  little  girls  were  successively  hoisted  up  to  the  collector's 
countenance,  and  subjected  to  the  same  process,  which  was 
afterwards  repeated  on  them  by  the  majority  of  those 
present. 

"  Oh  dear,  Mrs.  Kenwigs,"  said  Miss  Petowker,  "  while 
Mr.  Noggs  is  making  that  punch  to  drink  happy  returns  in,  do 
let  Morleena  go  through  that  figure  dance  before  Mr.  Lilly- 
vick." 

"No,  no,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  "it  will  only 
worry  my  uncle." 

"  It  can't  worry  him,  I'm  sure,"  said  Miss  Petowker. 
"  You  will  be  very  much  pleased,  won't  you,  sir  t  " 

"That  I  am  sure  I  shall,"  replied  the  collector,  glancing 
at  the  punch-mixer. 

"Well  then,  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs, 
"  Morleena  shall  do  the  steps,  if  uncle  can  persuade  Miss 
Petowker  to  recite  us  the  Blood-Drinker's  Burial,  after- 
wards." 

There  was  a  great  clapping  of  hands  and  stamping  of  feet, 
at  this  proposition  ;  the  subject  whereof,  gently  inclined  her 
head  several  times,  in  acknowledgment  of  the  reception. 

"You  know,"  said  Miss  Petowker,  reproachfully,  "that  I 
dislike  doing  anything  professional  in  pri\ate  parties." 

"Oh,  but  not  here!"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs.     "We  are  all 


NICH®LAS  NTCKLEB  Y. 


iM 


so  very  friendly  and  pleasant,  that  you  might  as  well  be  going 
through  it  in  your  own  room  ,  besides,  the  occasion " 

"  I  can't  resist  that,"  interrupted  Miss  Petowker ;  "any- 
thing in  my  humble  power  I  shall  be  delighted  to  do." 

Mrs.  Kenwigs  and  Miss  Petowker  had  arranged  a  small 
programme  of  the  entertainments  between  them,  of  which  this 
was  the  prescribed  order,  but  they  had  settled  to  have  a  little 
pressmg  on  both  sides,  because  it  looked  more  natural.  The 
company  being  all  ready.  Miss  Petowker  hummed  a  tune,  and 
Morleena  danced  a  dance  ;  having  previously  had  the  soles 
of  her  shoes  chalked,  with  as  much  care  as  if  she  were  going 
on  the  tight-rope.  It  was  a  very  beautiful  figure,  comprising 
a  great  deal  of  work  for  the  arms,  and  was  received  with 
unbounded  applause. 

"  If  I  was  blessed  with  a — a  child — "  said  Miss  Petowker, 
blushing,  "  of  such  genius  as  that,.!  would  have  her  out  at  the 
Opera  instantly." 

Mrs.  Kenwigs  sighed,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Kenwigs,  who 
shook  his  head,  and  observed  that  he  was  doubtful  about  it. 

"  Kenwigs  is  afraid,"  said  Mrs.  K. 

"What  of?"  inquired  Miss  Petowker,  "not  of  her  fail- 
ing ? " 

"  Oh  no,"  replied  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  "  but  if  she  grew  up  what 
she  is  now, — only  think  of  the  young  dukes  and  marquises." 

"  Verv  right,"  said  the  collector. 

"  Still,"  submitted  Miss  Petowker,  "  if  she  took  a  proper 
pride  in  herself,  you  know — " 

"  There's  a  good  deal  in  that,"  observed  Mrs.  Kenwigs, 
looking  at  her  husband. 

"  I  only  know — "  faltered  Miss  Petowker, — "  it  may  be 
no  rule  to  be  sure — but  /have  never  found  any  inconvenience 
or  unpleasantness  of  that  sort." 

Mr.  Kenwigs,  with  becoming  gallantr)^,  said  that  settled 
the  question  at  once,  and  that  he  would  take  the  subject  into 
his  serious  consideration.  This  being  resolved  upon,  Miss 
Petowker  was  entreated  to  begin  the  Blood-Drinker's  Burial  ; 
to  which  end,  that  young  lady  let  down  her  back  hair,  and 
taking  up  her  position  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  with  the 
bachelor  friend  posted  in  a  corner,  to  rush  out  at  the  cue  "  in 
death  expire,"  and  catch  her  in  his  arms  when  she  died  raving 
mad,  went  through  the  performance  with  extraordinary  spirit, 
and  to  the  great  terror  of  the  little  Kenwigses,  who  were  all 
but  frightened  into  fits. 


I  y  4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

The  ecstasies  consequent  upon  the  effort  had  not  yet  sub- 
sided, and  Newman  (who  had  not  been  thoroughly  sober  at 
so  late  an  hour  for  a  long  long  time,)  had  not  yet  been  able  to 
put  in  a  word  of  announcement,  that  the  punch  was  ready, 
when  a  hasty  knock  was  heard  at  the  room-door,  which 
elicited  a  shriek  from  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  who  immediately  divined 
that  the  baby  had  fallen  out  of  bed. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Kenwigs,  sharply. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  it's  only  me,"  said  Crowl,  looking  in, 
in  his  nightcap.  "  The  baby  is  very  comfortable,  for  I  peeped 
into  the  room  as  I  came  down,  and  it's  fast  asleep,  and  so  is 
the  girl ;  and  I  don't  think  the  candle  will  set  fire  to  the  bed- 
curtain,  unless  a  draught  was  to  get  into  the  room — it's  Mr. 
Noggs  that's  wanted." 

"  Me  !  "  cried  Newman,  much  astonished. 

"  Why,  it  is  a  queer  hour,  isn't  it .-'  "  replied  Crowl,  who 
was  not  best  pleased  at  the  prospect  of  losing  his  fire  ;  "  and 
they  are  queer-looking  people,  too,  all  covered  with  rain  and 
mud.     Shall  I  tell  them  to  go  away  ?  " 

"No,"  said    Newman,  rising.     "People?     How  many?" 

"  Two,"  rejoined  Crowl. 

"  Want  me  ?     By  name  ?  "  asked  Newman. 

"  By  name,"  replied  Crowl.  "  Mr.  Newman  Noggs,  as  pat 
as  need  be." 

Newman  reflected  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  hurried 
away,  muttering  that  he  would  be  back  directly.  He  was  as 
good  as  his  word  ;  for,  in  an  exceedingly  short  time,  he  burst 
into  the  room,  and  seizing,  without  a  word  of  apology  or  ex- 
planation, a  lighted  candle  and  tumbler  of  hot  punch  from  the 
table,  darted  away  like  a  madman. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  "  exclaimed  Crowl, 
throwing  the  door  open.  "  Hark  !  Is  there  any  noise 
abo\'e  ?  " 

The  guests  rose  in  great  confusion,  and,  looking  in  each 
other's  faces  with  much  perplexity  and  some  fear,  stretched 
their  necks  forward,  and  listened  attentively. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  K 


175 


CHAPTER   XV. 

ACQUAINTS  THE  READER  WITH  THE  CAUSE  AND  ORIGIN  OF 
THE  INTERRUPTION  DESCRIBED  IN  THE  LAST  CHAPTER, 
AND  WITH  SOME  OTHER  MATTERS  NECESSARY  TO  BE 
KNOWN. 

Newman  Noggs  scrambled  in  violent  haste  up  stairs  with 
the  steaming  beverage,  which  he  had  so  unceremoniously 
snatched  from  the  table  of  Mr.  Ken  wigs,  and  indeed  from  the 
very  grasp  of  the  water-rate  collector,  who  was  eyehig  the  con- 
tents of  the  tumbler,  at  the  moment  of  its  unexpected  abstrac- 
tion, with  lively  marks  of  pleasure  visible  in  his  countenance. 
He  bore  his  prize  straight  to  his  own  back  garret,  where, 
footsore  and  nearly  shoeless,  wet,  dirty,  jaded,  and  disfigured 
with  every  mark  of  fatiguing  travel,  sat  Nicholas,  and  Smike, 
at  once  the  cause  and  partner  of  his  toil :  both  perfectly  worn 
out,  by  their  unwonted  and  protracted  exertion. 

Newman's  first  act  was  to  compel  Nicholas,  with  gentle 
force,  to  swallow  half  of  the  punch  at  a  breath,  nearly  boiling  as 
it  was ;  and  his  next,  to  pour  the  remainder  down  the  throat 
of  Smike,  who,  never  having  tasted  anything  stronger  than 
aperient  medicine  in  his  whole  life,  exhibited  various  odd 
manifestations  of  surprise  and  delight,  during  the  passage  of 
the  liquor  down  his  throat,  and  turned  up  his  eyes  most  em- 
phatically when  it  was  all  gone. 

"  You  are  wet  through,"  said  Newman,  passing  his  hand 
hastily  over  the  coat  which  Nicholas  had  thrown  off  ;  "  and  I 
— I — haven't  even  a  change,"  he  added,  with  a  wistful  glance 
at  the  shabby  clothes  he  wore  himself. 

"  I  have  dry  clothes,  or  at  least  such  as  will  serve  my  turn 
well,  in  my  bundle,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  If  you  look  so  dis- 
tressed to  see  me,  you  will  add  to  the  pain  I  feel  already,  at 
being  compelled,  for  one  night,  to  cast  myself  upon  your  slen- 
der means  for  aid  and  shelter." 

Newman  did  not  look  the  less  distressed  to  hear  Nicholas 
talking  in  this  strain  ;  but,  upon  his  young  friend  grasping 
him  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  assuring  him  that  nothing  but 
iniplicit  confidence  in  the  sincerity  of  his  professions,  and 
kindness  of  feeling  towards  himself,  would  have  induced  him, 


176 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


on  any  consideration,  even  to  have  made  him  acquainted  with 
his  arrival  in  London,  Mr.  Noggs  brightened  up  again,  and 
went  about  making  such  arrangements  as  were  in  his  power 
for  the  comfort  of  liis  visitors,  with  extreme  alacrity. 

These  were  simple  enough  ;  poor  Newman's  means  halt- 
ing at  a  very  considerable  distance  short  of  his  inclinations  ; 
but,  slight  as  they  were,  they  were  not  made  without  much 
bustling  and  running  about.  As  Nicholas  liad  husbanded  his 
scanty  stock  of  money  so  well  that  it  was  not  yet  quite  ex- 
pended, a  supper  of  bread  and  cheese,  with  some  cold  beef 
from  the  cook's  shop,  was  soon  placed  upon  the  table  ;  and 
these  viands  being  flanked  by  a  bottle  of  spirits  and  a  pot  of 
porter,  there  was  no  ground  for  apprehension  on  the  score  of 
hunger  or  thirst,  at  all  events.  Such  preparations  as  New- 
man had  it  in  his  power  to  make,  for  the  accommodation  of 
his  guests  during  the  night,  occupied  no  ver}^  great  time  in 
completing  ;  and  as  he  had  insisted,  as  an  express  prelimi- 
nary, that  Nicholas  should  change  his  clothes,  and  that  Smike 
should  invest  himself  in  his  solitary  coat  (which  no  entreaties 
would  dissuade  him  from  stripping  off  for  the  purpose),  the 
travellers  partook  of  their  frugal  fare,  with  more  satisfaction 
than  one  of  them  at  least  had  derived  from  many  a  better 
meal. 

They  drew  near  the  fire,  which  Newman  Noggs  had  made 
up  as  well  as  he  could,  after  the  inroads  of  Crowl  upon  the 
fuel ;  and  Nicholas,  who  had  hitherto  been  restrained  by  the 
extreme  anxiety  of  his  friend  that  he  should  refresh  himself 
after  his  journey,  now  pressed  him  with  earnest  questions  con- 
cerning his  mother  and  sister. 

"  Well ;  "  replied  Newman,  with  his  accustomed  taciturnity ; 
"  both  well." 

"  They  are  living  in  the  city  still  t  "  inquired  Nicholas. 

"They  are,"  said  Newman. 

"  And  my  sister  " — added  Nicholas.  "  Is  she  still  engaged 
in  the  business  which  she  wrote  to  tell  me  she  thought  she 
should  like  so  much  t  " 

Newman  opened  his  eyes  rather  wider  than  usual,  but 
merely  replied  by  a  gasp,  which  according  to  the  action  of  the 
head  that  accompanied  it,  was  interpreted  by  his  friends  as 
meaning  yes  or  no.  In  the  present  instance,  the  pantomime 
consisted  of  a  nod,  and  not  a  shake  ;  so  Nicholas  took  the 
answer  as  a  favorable  one. 

"  Now  listen  to   me,"  said  Nicholas,  laying  his  hand   on 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


177 


Newman's  shoulder.  "  Before  I  would  make  an  effort  to  see 
them,  1  deemed  it  expedient  to  come  to  you,  lest,  by  gratifying 
my  own  selfish  desire,  I  should  inflict  an  injury  upon  tliem 
which  1  can  never  repair.  What  has  my  uncle  heard  from 
Yorkshire .'  " 

Newman  opened  and  shut  his  mouth,  several  times,  as 
though  he  were  trying  his  utmost  to  speak,  but  could  make 
nothing  of  it,  and  finally  fixed  his  eyes  on  Nicholas  with  a  grim 
and  ghastly  stare. 

"  What  has  he  heard  ?  "  urged  Nicholas,  coloring.  "  You 
see  that  1  am  prepared  to  hear  the  very  worst  that  malice  can 
have  suggested.  Why  should  you  conceal  it  from  me  ?  I 
must  know  it  sooner  or  later  ;  and  what  purpose  can  be  gained 
by  trifling  with  the  matter  for  a  few  minutes,  when  half  the 
time  would  put  me  in  possession  of  all  that  has  occurred  .'' 
Tell  me  at  once,  pray." 

"To-morrow  morning,"  said  Newman;  "hear  it  to-mor- 
row." 

"  What  purpose  would  that  answer  ?  "  urged  Nicholas. 

"  You  would  sleep  the  better,"  replied  Newman. 

"  I  should  sleep  the  worse,"  answered  Nicholas,  impa- 
tiently. "  Sleep  !  Exhausted  as  I  am,  and  standing  in  no 
common  need  of  rest,  I  cannot  hope  to  close  my  eyes  all  night, 
unless  you  tell  me  everything." 

"And  if  I  should  tell  you  everything,"  said  Newman  hesi- 
tating. 

"  Why,  then  you  may  rouse  my  indignation  or  wound  my 
pride,"  rejoined  Nicholas  ;  "  but  you  will  not  break  my  rest; 
for  if  the  scene  were  acted  over  again,  I  could  take  no  other 
part  than  I  have  taken ;  and  whatever  consequences  may  ac- 
crue to  myself  from  it,  I  shall  never  regret  doing  as  I  have 
done — never,  if  I  starve  or  beg  in  consequence.  What  is  a 
little  poverty  or  suffering,  to  the  disgrace  of  the  basest  and 
most  inhuman  cowardice  ?  I  tell  you,  if  I  had  stood  by,  tamely 
and  passively,  I  should  have  hated  myself,  and  merited  the 
contempt  of  every  man  in  existence.  The  black-hearted 
scoundrel !  " 

With  this  gentle  allusion  to  the  absent  Mr.  Squeers, 
Nicholas  repressed  his  rising  wrath,  and  relating  to  Newman 
exactly  what  had  passed  at  Dotheboys  Hall,  entreated  him  to 
speak  out  without  more  pressing.  Thus  adjured,  Mr.  Noggs 
took,  from  an  old  trunk,  a  sheet  of  paper,  which  appeared  to 
have  been  scrawled  over  in  great  haste ;  and  after  sundry 

12 


1 7 8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

extraojdinary  demonstrations  of  reluctance,  delivered  himself 
in  the  following  terms. 

"  My  dear  young  man,  you  mustn't  give  way  to — this  sort 
of  thing  will  never  do,  you  know — -as  to  getting  on  in  the 
world,  if  you  take  everybody's  part  that's  ill-treated — Damn 
it,  I  am  proud  to  hear  of  it  ;  and  would  have  done  it  my- 
self !  " 

Newman  accompanied  this  very  unusual  outbreak  with  a 
violent  blow  upon  the  table,  as  if,  in  the  heat  of  the  moment, 
he  had  mistaken  it  for  the  chest  or  ribs  of  Mr.  Wackford 
Squeers.  Having,  by  this  open  declaration  of  his  feelings, 
quite  precluded  himself  from  offering  Nicholas  any  cautious 
worldly  advice  (which  had  been  his  first  intention),  Mr.  Noggs 
went  straight  to  the  point. 

"  The  day  before  yesterday,"  said  Newman,  "  your  uncle 
received  this  letter.  I  took  a  hasty  copy  of  it,  while  he  was 
out.     Shall  I  read  it  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,"  replied  Nicholas.  Newman  Noggs  ac- 
cordingly read  as  follows : 

"  Dotheboys  Hall, 

"  Thursday  Alorning. 

"  Sir. 

"  My  pa  requests  me  to  write  to  you,  the  doctors  con- 
sidering it  doubtful  whether  he  will  ever  recuvver  the  use  of 
his  legs,  which  prevents  his  holding  a  pen. 

"  We  are  in  a  state  of  mind  beyond  everything,  and  my  pa 
is  one  mask  of  brooses  both  blue  and  green  likewise  two  forms 
are  steepled  in  his  Goar.  We  were  kimpelled  to  have  him 
carried  down  into  the  kitchen  where  he  now  lays.  You  will 
judge  from  this  that  he  has  been  brought  very  low. 

"  When  your  nevew  that  you  recommended  for  a  teacher 
had  done  this  to  my  pa  and  jumped  upon  his  body  with  his 
feet  and  also  langwedge  which  I  will  not  pollewt  my  pen  with 
describing,  he  assaulted  my  ma  with  dreadful  violence,  dashed 
her  to  the  earth,  and  drove  her  back  comb  several  inches  into 
her  head.  A  very  little  more  and  it  must  have  entered  her 
skull.  We  have  a  medical  certihket  that  if  it  had,  the  torter- 
shell  would  have  affected  the  brain. 

"  Me  and  my  brother  were  then  the  victims  of  liis  feury 
since  which  we  have  suffered  very  much  which  leads  us  to  the 
arrowing  belief  tiiatwe  have  received  some  injury  in  our  insides, 
especially  as  no  marks  of  violence  are  visible  externally.  I  am 
screaming  out  loud  all  the 'time  I  write  and  so  is  my  brother 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  1 79 

which  takes  off  my  attention  rather  and   I  hope  will  excuse 
mistakes. 

"  The  monster  having  sasiated  his  thirst  for  blood  ran 
away,  taking  with  him  a  boy  of  desperate  caracter  that  he  had 
excited  to  rebellyon,  and  a  garnet  ring  belonging  to  my  ma, 
and  not  having  been  apprehended  by  the  constables  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  took  up  by  some  stage-coach.  My  pa  begs 
that  if  he  comes  to  you  the  ring  may  be  returned,  and  that 
you  will  let  the  thief  and  assassin  go,  as  if  we  prosecuted  him 
he  would  only  be  transported,  and  if  he  is  let  go  he  is  sure  to 
be  hung  before  long  which  will  save  us  trouble  and  be  much 
more  satisfactory.  Hoping  to  hear  from  you  when  conve- 
nient. 

"  I  remain 

"  Yours  and  cetrer 

'*  Fanny  Squeers. 

"  P.S.     I  pity  his  ignorance  and  despise  him." 

A  profound  silence  succeeded  to  the  reading  of  this  choice 
epistle,  during  which  Newman  Noggs,  as  he  folded  it  up, 
gazed  with  a  kind  of  grotesque  pity  at  the  boy  of  desperate 
character  therein  referred  to  ;  who,  having  no  more  distinct 
perception  of  the  matter  in  hand,  than  that  he  had  been  the 
unfortunate  cause  of  heaping  trouble  and  falsehood  upon  Nich- 
olas, sat  mute  and  dispirited,  with  a  most  woe-begone  and 
heart-stricken  look. 

"  Mr.  Noggs,"  said  Nicholas,  after  a  few  moments'  reflec- 
tion, "  I  must  go  out  at  once." 

"  Go  out  !  "  cried  Newman. 

"  Yes,"  said  Nicholas,  "  to  Golden  Square.  Nobody  who 
knows  me  would  believe  this  story  of  the  ring  ;  but  it  may 
suit  the  purpose,  or  gratify  the  hatred  of  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby 
to  feign  to  attach  credence  to  it.  It  is  due — not  to  him,  but 
to  myself — that  I  should  state  the  truth  ;  and  moreover,  I  have 
a  word  or  two  to  exchange  with  him,  which  will  not  keep  cool." 

"They  must,"  said  Newman. 

"They  must  not,  indeed,"  rejoined  Nicholas  firmly,  as  he 
prepared  to  leave  the  house. 

"  Hear  me  speak,"  said  Newman,  planting  himself  before 
his  impetuous  young  friend.  "  He  is  not  there.  He  is  away 
from  town.  He  will  not  be  back  for  three  davs  ;  and  I  know 
that  letter  will  not  be  answered  before  he  returns." 


1 8o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this  ?  "  asked  Nicholas,  chafing  violently, 
and  pacing  the  narrow  room  with  rapid  strides. 

"Quite,"  rejoined  Newman.  "He  had  hardly  read  it 
when  he  was  called  away.  Its  contents  are  known  to  nobody 
but  himself  and  us." 

"Are  you  certain?"  demanded  Nicholas,  hastily;  "not 
even  to  my  mother  or  sister  ?  If  I  thought  that  they — I  will  go 
there — I  must  see  them.     Which  is  the  way  ?     Where  is  it  .•'  " 

"  Now,  be  advised  by  me,"  said  Newman,  speaking  for  the 
moment,  in  his  earnestness,  like  any  other  man — "  make  no 
effort  to  see  even  them,  till  he  comes  home.  I  know  the  man. 
Do  not  seem  to  have  been  tampering  with  anybody.  When 
he  returns,  go  straight  to  him,  and  speak  as  boldly  as  you  like. 
Guessing  at  the  real  truth,  he  knows  it  as  well  as  you  or  I. 
Trust  him  for  that." 

"  You  mean  well  to  me,  and  should  know  him  better  than 
I  can,"  replied  Nicholas,  after  some  consideration.  "  Well  ; 
let  it  be  so." 

Newman,  who  had  stood  during  the  foregoing  conversation 
with  his  back  planted  against  the  door,  ready  to  oppose  any 
egress  from  the  ajDartment  by  force,  if  necessary,  resumed  his 
seat  with  much  satisfaction  ;  and  as  the  water  in  the  kettle 
was  by  this  time  boiling,  made  a  glassful  of  spirits  and  water 
for  Nicholas,  and  a  cracked  mug-full  for  the  joint  accom- 
modation of  himself  and  Smike,  of  which  the  two  partook 
in  great  harmony,  while  Nicholas,  leaning  his  head  upon  his 
hand,  remained  buried  in  melancholy  meditation. 

Meanwhile,  the  company  below  stairs,  after  listening  atten- 
tively and  not  hearing  any  noise  which  would  justify  them  in 
interfering  for  the  gratification  of  their  curiosity,  returned  to 
the  chamber  of  the  Kenwigses,  and  employed  themselves  in 
hazarding  a  great  variety  of  conjectures  relative  to  the  cause 
of  Mr.  Noggs's  sudden  disappearance  and  detention. 

"  Lor,  I'll  tell  you  what ;  "  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs.  "  Suppose 
it  should  be  an  express  sent  up  to  say  that  his  property  has  all 
come  back  again  .''  " 

"Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs;  "it's  not  impossible. 
Perhaps,  in  that  case,  we'd  better  send  up  and  ask  if  he  won't 
take  a  little  more  punch." 

"  Kenwigs  !  "  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  I'm 
sur]  r'sed  at  you." 

'■  What's  the  matter,  sir  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Kenwigs,  with  be- 
coming submission  to  the  collector  of  water-rates. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y  1 8 1 

"Making  such  aremark  as  that,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Lillyvick, 
angrily.  "  He  has  had  punch  already,  has  he  not,  sir  ?  I 
consider  the  way  in  which  that  punch  was  cut  off,  if  I  may  use 
the  expression,  highly  disrespectful  to  this  company  ;  scandal- 
ous, perfectly  scandalous.  It  may  be  the  custom  to  allow  such 
things  in  this  house,  but  it's  not  the  kind  of  behavior  that  I've 
been  used  to  see  displayed,  and  so  I  don't  mind  telling  you, 
Kenwigs.  A  gentleman  has  a  glass  of  punch  before  him  to 
which  he  is  just  about  to  set  his  lips,  when  another  gentleman 
comes  and  collars  that  glass  of  punch,  without  a  'with  your 
leave,'  or  'by  your  leave,'  and  carries  that  glass  of  punch 
away.  This  may  be  good  manners — I  dare  say  it  is — but  I 
don't  understand  it,  that's  all  ;  and  what's  more,  I  don't  care 
if  I  never  do.  It's  my  way  to  speak  my  mind,  Kenwigs,  and 
that  is  my  mind  ;  and  if  you  don't  like  it,  it's  past  my  regular 
time  for  going  to  bed,  and  I  can  find  my  way  home  without 
making  it  later." 

Here  was  an  untoward  event !  The  collector  had  sat  sw'el- 
ling  and  fuming  in  offended  dignity  for  some  minutes,  and  had 
now  fairly  burst  out.  The  great  man — the  rich  relation — the 
unmarried  uncle— who  had  it  in  his  power  to  make  Morleena 
an  heiress,  and  the  very  baby  a  legatee — was  offended.  Gra- 
cious Powers,  where  was  this  to  end  ! 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  humbly. 

"  Don't  tell  me  you're  sorr}-,"  retorted  Mr.  Lillyvick, 
with  much  sharpness.  "You  should  have  prevented  it, 
then." 

The  company  were  quite  paralyzed  by  this  domestic  crash. 
The  back  parlor  sat  with  her  mouth  wide  open,  staring  vacantly 
at  the  collector,  in  a  stupor  of  dismay;  the  other  guests  were 
scarcely  less  overpowered  by  the  great  man's  irritation.  Mr. 
Kenwigs,  not  being  skilful  in  such  matters,  only  fanned  the 
flame  in  attempting  to  extinguish  it. 

"  I  didn't  think  of  it,  I  am  sure,  sir,"  said  that  gentleman. 
"  I  didn't  suppose  that  such  a  little  thing  as  a  glass  of  punch 
would  have  put  you  out  of  temper." 

"  Out  of  temper !  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  bv  that 
piece  of  impertinence,  Mr.  Kenwigs.-*"  said  the  collector. 
"Morleena,  child — give  me  my  hat." 

"  Oh,  you're  not  going,  Mr.  Lillyvick,  sir,"  interposed  Miss 
Petowker,  with  her  most  bewitching  smile. 

But  still  Mr.  Lilly\-ick,  regardless  of  the  siren,  cried  ob- 
durately, "  Morleena,  my  hat !  "  upon  the  fourth  repetition  of 


1 82  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

which  demand,  Mrs.  Kenwigs  sunk  back  in  her  chair,  with  a 
cry  that  might  have  softened  a  water-butt,  not  to  say  a  water- 
collector  ;  while  the  four  little  girls  (privately  instructed  to 
that  effect)  clasped  their  uncle's  drab  shorts  in  their  arms,  and 
prayed  him,  in  imperfect  English,  to  remain. 

"  Why  should  I  stop  here,  my  dears  ?  "  said  Mr.  Lillyvick  ; 
"I'm  not  wanted  here." 

''  Oh  do  not  speak  so  cruelly,  uncle,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Ken- 
wigs,  "  unless  you  wish  to  kill  me." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  some  people  were  to  say  I  did," 
replied  Mr.  Lill}^'ick,  glancing  angrily  at  Kenwigs.  "  Out  of 
temper  !  " 

"  Oh  !  I  cannot  bear  to  see  him  look  so  at  my  husband," 
cried  Mrs.  Kenwigs.     "  It's  so  dreadful  in  families.     Oh  !  " 

"  Mr.  Lillyvick,"  said  Kenwigs,  "  I  hope,  for  the  sake  of 
your  niece,  that  you  won't  object  to  be  reconciled." 

The  collector's  features  relaxed,  as  the  company  added 
their  entreaties  to  those  of  his  nephew-in-law.  He  gave  up 
his  hat,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  There,  Kenwigs,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick ;  "  and  let  me  tell 
you,  at  the  same  time,  to  show  you  how  much  out  of  temper 
I  was,  that  if  I  had  gone  away  without  another  word,  it  would 
have  made  no  difference  respecting  that  pound  or  two  which 
1  shall  leave  among  your  children  when  I  die." 

"  Morleena  Kenwigs,"  cried  her  mother,  in  a  torrent  of 
affection.  "  Go  down  upon  your  knees  to  your  dear  uncle, 
and  beg  him  to  love  you  all  his  life  through,  for  he's  more  a 
angel  than  a  man,  and  I've  always  said  so." 

Miss  Morleena  approaching  to  do  homage,  in  compliance 
with  this  injunction,  was  summarily  caught  up  and  kissed  by 
Mr.  Lillyvick  ;  and  thereupon  Mrs.  Kenwigs  darted  forward 
and  kissed  the  collector,  and  an  irrepressible  murmur  of  ap- 
plause broke  from  the  company  who  had  witnessed  his  mag- 
nanimity. 

The  worthy  gentleman  then  became  once  more  the  life  and 
soul  of  the  society ;  being  again  reinstated  in  his  old  post  of 
lion  from  which  high  station  the  temporary  distraction  of  their 
thoughts  had  for  a  moment  dispossessed  him.  Quadruped 
lions  are  said  to  be  savage,  only  when  they  are  hungry  ;  biped 
lions  are  rarely  sulky  longer  than  when  their  appetite  for  dis- 
tinction remains  unappeased.  Mr.  Lillyvick  stood  higher  than 
ever  ;  for  he  had  shown  his  power  ;  hinted  at  his  property  and 
testamentary  intentions  ;  gained  great  credit  for  disinterested- 


JVICHOLAS  JVICKLEB  Y.  183 

ness  and  virtue  ;  and,  in  addition  to  all,  was  finally  accom- 
modated with  a  much  larger  tumbler  of  punch  than  that  which 
Newman  Noggs  had  so  feloniously  made  off  with. 

"I  say!  I  beg  everybody's  pardon  for  intruding  again," 
said  Crowl,  looking  in  at  this  happy  juncture ;  "but  what  a 
queer  business  this  is,  isn't  it  ?  Noggs  has  lived  in  this  house, 
now  going  on  for  five  years,  and  nobody  has  ever  been  to  see 
him  before,  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant." 


"  It's  a  strange  time  of  night  to  be  called  away,  sir,  cer- j 
tainly,"  said  the  collector  ;  "  and  the  behavior  of  Mr.  NoggsJ 
himself,  is,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  mysterious."  __ 

"Well,  so  it  is,"  rejoined  Crowl ;  "  and  I'll  tell  you  what's  \ 
more^  think'  thegfe"Tirrrggnitist;s,- whoexTrTtTey' aYeT'Tiave l^n, J 
away  from  somewhere." 

"  What  makes  you  think  that,  sir  ?  "  demanded  the  collector, 
who  seemed,  by  a  tacit  understanding,  to  have  been  chosen 
and  elected  mouthpiece  to  the  company.  "  You  have  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  they  have  run  away  from  anywhere 
without  paying  the  rates  and  taxes  due,  I  hope  .''  " 

Mr.  Crowl,  with  a  look  of  some  contempt,  was  about  to 
enter  a  general  protest  against  the  payment  of  rates  or  taxes, 
under  any  circumstances,  when  he  was  checked  by  a  timely 
whisper  from  Kenwigs,  and  several  frowns  and  winks  from 
Mrs.  K.,  which  providentially  stopped  him. 

"Why  the  fact  is,"  said  Crowl,  who  had  been  listening  at 
Newman's  door,  with  all  his  might  and  main  ;  "  the  fact  is, 
that  they  have  been  talking  so  loud,  that  they  quite  disturbed 
me  in  my  room,  and  so  I  couldn't  help  catching  a  word  here, 
and  a  word  there  ;  and  all  I  heard,  certainly  seemed  to  refer 
to  their  having  bolted  from  some  place  or  other.  I  don't  wish 
to  alarm  Mrs.  Kenwigs  ;  but  I  hope  they  haven't  come  from 
any  jail  or  hospital,  and  brought  away  a  fever  or  some  un- 
pleasantness of  that  sort,  which  might  be  catching  for  the 
children." 

Mrs.  Kenwigs  was  so  overpowered  by  this  supposition, 
that  it  needed  all  the  tender  attentions  of  Miss  Petowker,  of 
the  Theatre  Royal,  Drury  Lane,  to  restore  her  to  anything  like 
a  state  of  calmness  ;  not  to  mention  the  assiduity  of  Mr.  Ken- 
wigs, who  held  a  fat  smelling-bottle  to  his  lady's  nose,  until  it 
became  matter  of  some  doubt  whether  the  tears  which  coursed 
down  her  face,  were  the  result  of  feelings  or  sal  volatile. 

The  ladies,  having  expressed  their  sympathy,  sinsly  and 
separately,  fell,  according  to  custom,  into  a  little  chorus  of 


i84 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


soothing  expressions,  among  which,  such  condolences  as 
"  Poor  dear  !  " — "  I  should  feel  just  the  same,  if  I  was  her  " 
— "  To  be  sure,  it's  a  very  trying  thing  " — and  "  Nobody  but 
a  mother  knows  what  a  mother's  feelings  is,"  were  among  the 
most  prominent,  and  most  frequently  repeated.  In  short,  the 
opinion  of  the  company  was  so  clearly  manifested,  that  Mr. 
Kenwigs  was  on  the  point  of  repairing  to  Mr.  Noggs's  room, 
to  demand  an  explanation,  and  had  indeed  swallowed  a  pre- 
paratory glass  of  punch,  with  great  inflexibility  and  steadiness 
of  purpose,  when  the  attention  of  all  present  was  diverted  by 
a  new  and  terrible  surprise, 

This  was  nothing  less  than  the  sudden  pouring  forth  of  a 
rapid  succession  of  the  shrillest  and  most  piercing  screams, 
from  an  upper  story  ;  and  to  all  appearance  from  the  very  • 
two-pair  back,  in  which  the  infant  Kenwigs  was  at  that  moment 
enshrined.  They  were  no  sooner  audible,  than  Mrs.  Kenwigs, 
opining  that  a  strange  cat  had  come  in,  and  sucked  the  baby's 
breath  while  the  girl  was  asleep,  made  for  the  door,  wringing 
her  hands,  and  shrieking  dismally  ;  to  the  great  consternation 
and  confusion  of  the  company. 

"  Mr.  K-enwigs,  see  what  it  is  ;  make  haste  !  "  cried  the 
sister,  laying  violent  hands  upon  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  and  holding 
her  back  by  force.  "  Oh  don't  twist  about  so,  dear,  or  I  can 
never  hold  you." 

"  My  baby,  my  blessed,  blessed,  blessed,  blessed  baby  !  " 
screamed  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  making  every  blessed  louder  than 
the  last.  "  My  own  darling,  sweet,  innocent  Lillyvick — Oh 
let  me  go  to  him.     Let  me  go-o-o-o  !  " 

Pending  the  utterance  of  these  frantic  cries,  and  the  wails 
■and  lamentations  of  the  four  little  girls,  Mr.  Kenwigs  rushed 
up  stairs  to  the  room  whence  the  sounds  proceeded  ;  at  the 
door  of  which,  he  encountered  Nicholas,  with  the  child  in  his 
arms,  who  darted  out  with  such  violence,  that  the  anxious 
father  was  thrown  down  six  stairs,  and  alighted  on  the  nearest 
landing-place,  before  he  had  found  time  to  open  his  mouth  to 
ask  what  was  the  matter. 

r  -"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  cried  Nicholas,  running  down; 
/"here  it  is  ;  it's  all  out,  it's  all  over  ;  pray  compose  yci.  elves  ; 
(  there's  no  harm  done  ;  "  and  with  these,  and  a  thousa.  a  other 
assurances,  he  delivered  the  baby  (whom,  in  his  hurry,  he 
had  carried  upside  down),  to  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  and  ran  back  to 
assist  Mr.  Kenwigs,  who  was  rubbing  his  head  very  hard,  and 
looking  much  bewildered  by  his  tumble. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  185 

Reassured  by  this  cheering  intelligence,  the  company  in 
some  degree  recovered  from  their  fears,  which  had  been  pro- 
ductiv'e  of  some  most  singular  instances  of  a  total  want  of 
presence  of  mind  ;  thus,  the  bachelor  friend  had,  for  a  long 
time,  supported  in  his  arms  Mrs.  Kenwigs's  sister,  instead  of 
Mrs.  Kenwigs  ;  and  the  worthy  Mr.  Lillyvickhad  been  actually 
seen,  in  the  perturbation  of  his  spirits,  to  kiss  Miss  Petowker 
several  times,  behind  the  room  door,  as  calmly  as  if  nothing 
distressing  were  going  forward. 

"  It's  a  mere  nothing,"  said  Nicholas,  returning  to  Mrs. 
Kenwigs  ;  "  the  little  girl,  who  was  watching  the  child,  being 
tired  I  suppose,  fell  asleep,  and  set  her  hair  on  fire."   ' 

"  Oh  you  malicious  little  wretch  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Kenwigs, 
impressively  shaking  her  forefinger  at  the  small  unfortunate, 
who  might  be  thirteen  years  old,  and  was  looking  on  with  a 
singed  head  and  a  frightened  face. 

"  I  heard  her  cries,"  continued  Nicholas,  "  and  ran  down, 
in  time  to  prevent  her  setting  fire  to  anything  else.  You  may 
depend  upon  it  that  the  child  is  not  hurt  ;  for  I  took  it  off  the 
bed  myself,  and  brought  it  here  to  convince  you." 

This  brief  explanation  over,  the  infant,  who,  as  he  was 
christened  after  the  collector,  rejoiced  in  the  names  of  Lilly- 
vick  Kenwigs,  was  partially  suffocated  under  the  caresses  of 
the  audience,  and  squeezed  to  his  mother's  bosom,  until  he 
roared  again.  The  attention  of  the  company  was  then  directed, 
by  a  natural  transition,  to  the  little  girl  who  had  had  the 
audacity  to  burn  her  hair  off,  and  who,  after  receiving  sundry 
small  slaps  and  pushes  from  the  more  energetic  of  the  ladies, 
was  mercifully  sent  home  ;  the  ninepence,  with  which  she  was  to 
have  been  rewarded,  being  escheated  to  the  Kenwigs  family. 

"  And  whatever  we  are  to  say  to  you,  sir,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Kenwigs,  addressing  young  Lillyvick's  deliverer  "  I  am  sure 
I  don't  know." 

"You  need  say  nothing  at  all,"  replied  Nicholas,  "I 
have  done  nothing  to  found  any  very  strong  claim  upon  your 
eloquence,  I  am  sure." 

"  He  might  have  been  burnt  to  death,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
you,  sir,"  simpered  Miss  Petowker. 

"Not  very  likely,  I  think,"  replied  Nicholas;  "for  there 
was  abundance  of  assistance  here,  which  must  have  reached 
him  before  he  had  been  in  any  danger." 

"  You  will  let  us  drink  your  health,  anyvays,  sir  !  "  said 
Mr.  Kenwigs,  motioning  towards  the  table. 


1 86  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

" — In  my  absence,  by  all  means,"  rejoined  Nicholas,  with 
a  smile.  "  I  have  had  a  very  fatiguing  journey,  and  should 
be  most  indifferent  company — a  far  greater  check  upon  your 
merriment,  than  a  promoter,  of  it,  even  if  I  kept  awake,  which 
I  think  very  doubtful.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I'll  return  to  my 
friend,  Mr.  Noggs,  who  went  up  stairs  again,  when  he  found 
nothing  serious  had  occurred.     Good-night." 

Excusing  himself,  in  these  terms,  from  joining  in  the  fes- 
tivities, Nicholas  took  a  most  winning  farewell  of  Mrs.  Ken- 
wigs  and  the  other  ladies,  and  retired,  after  making  a  very 
extraordinary  impression  upon  the  company. 

"What  a  delightful  young  man  !  "   cried  Mrs.  Kenwigs. 

"  Uncommon  gentlemanly,  really,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs. 
"  Don't  you  think  so,  Mr.  Lillyvick  .?'" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  collector,  with  a  dubious  shrug  of  his 
shoulders.  '*  He  is  gentlemanly,  very  gentlemanly — in  appear- 
ance." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  see  anything  against  him,  uncle  ?  "  in- 
quired Mrs.  Kenwigs. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  replied  the  collector,  "no.  I  trust  he 
may  not  turn  out — well — no  matter — my  love  to  you,  my  dear, 
and  long  life  to  the  baby  ! " 

"  Your  namesake,"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  with  a  sweet  smile. 

"  And  I  hope  a  worthy  namesake,"  observed  Mr.  Kenwigs, 
willmg  to  propitiate  the  collector.  "I  hope  a  baby  as  will 
never  disgrace  his  godfather,  and  as  may  be  considered,  in 
arter  years,  of  a  piece  with  the  Lillyvicks  whose  name  he  bears. 
I  do  say — and  Mrs.  Kenwigs  is  of  the  same  sentiment,  and  feels 
it  as  strong  as  I  do— that  I  consider  his  being  called  Lillyvick 
one  of  the  greatest  blessings  and  honors  of  my  existence." 

"  7%^  greatest  blessing,  Kenwigs,"  murmured  his  lady. 

"  The  greatest  blessing,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  correcting 
himself.  "  A  blessing  that  I  hope,  one  of  these  days,  I  may 
be  able  to  deserve." 

This  was  a  politic  stroke  of  the  Kenwigses,  because  it 
made  Mr.  Lillyvick  the  great  head  and  fountain  of  the  baby's 
importance.  The  good  gentleman  felt  the  delicacv  and  dex- 
terity of  the  touch,  and  at  once  proposed  the  health  of  the 
gentleman,  name  unknown,  who  had  signalized  himself,  that 
night,  by  his  coolness  and  alacrity. 

"Who,  I  don't  mind  saying,"  observed  Mr.  Lillyvick,  as  a 
great  concession,  "  is  a  good-looking  young  man  enough,  with 
manners  that  I  hope  his  character  may  be  equal  to." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  187 

"  He  has  a  very  nice  face  and  style,  really,"  said  Mrs. 
Ken  wigs. 

"lie  certainly  has,"  added  Miss  Petowker.  "There's 
something  in  his  appearance  quite — dear,  dear,  what's  that 
word  again  ? " 

"  What  word  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Lillyvick. 
"Why — dear  me,  how  stupid  I  am,"  replied  Miss  Petow- 
ker, hesitating.     "  What  do  you  call  it,  when  Lords  break  off 
door-knockers  and  beat  policemen,  and  play  at  coaches  with 
other  people's  money,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ? " 
"  Aristocratic  t  "  suggested  the  collector. 
"  Ah  !  aristocratic,"  replied  Miss  Petowker  ;  "  something 
very  aristocratic  about  him,  isn't  there  ?  " 

The  gentlemen  held  their  peace,  and  smiled  at  each  other, 
as  who  should  say,  "  Well !  there's  no  accounting  for  tastes  ;  " 
but  the  ladies  resolved  unanimously  that  Nicholas  had  an 
aristocratic  air  ;  and  nobody  caring  to  dispute  the  position,  it 
was  established  triumphantly. 

The  punch  being,  by  this  time,  drunk  out,  and  the  little 
Kenwigses  (who  had  for  some  time  previously  held  their  little 
eyes  open  with  their  little  fore-fingers)  becoming  fractious, 
and  requesting  rather  urgently  to  be  put  to  bed,  the  collector 
made  a  move  by  pulling  out  his  watch,  and  acquainting  the 
company  that  it  was  nigh  two  o'clock  ;  whereat  some  of  the 
guests  were  surprised  and  others  shocked,  and  hats  and 
bonnets  being  groped  for  under  the  tables,  and  in  course  of 
time  found,  their  owners  went  away,  after  a  vast  deal  of 
shaking  of  hands,  and  many  remarks  how  they  had  never 
spent  such  a  delightful  evening,  and  how  they  marvelled  to 
find  it  so  late,  expecting  to  have  heard  that  it  was  half-past 
ten  at  the  very  latest,  and  how  they  wished  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Kenwigs  had  a  wedding-day  once  a  week,  and  how  they 
wondered  by  what  hidden  agency  Mrs.  Kenwigs  could 
possibly  have  managed  so  well  ;  and  a  great  deal  more  of  the 
same  kind.  To  allof  which  flattering  expressions,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Kenwigs  replied,  by  thanking  every  lady  and  gentleman, 
seriatim,  for  the  favor  of  their  company,  and  hoping  they 
might  have  enjoyed  themselves  only  half  as  well  as  they  said 
they  had. 

As  to  Nicholas,  quite  unconscious  of  the  impression  he 
had  produced,  he  had  long  since  fallen  asleep,  leaving  Mr. 
Newman  Noggs  and  Smike  to  empty  the  spirit  bottle  between 
them ;  and  this  office  they  performed  with  such  extreme  good 


1 88  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

will,  that  Newman  was  equally  at  a  loss  to  determine  whether 
he  himself  was  quite  sober,  and  whether  he  had  ever  seen 
any  gentleman  so  heavily,  drowsily,  and  completely  intoxi- 
cated, as  his  new  acquaintance. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

NICHOLAS  SEEKS  TO  EMPLOY  HIMSELF  IN  A  NEW  CAPACITY, 
AND  BEING  UNSUCCESSFUL,  ACCEPTS  AN  ENGAGEMENT  AS 
TUTOR    IN    A    PRIVATE    FAMILY. 

The  first  care  of  Nicholas,  next  morning,  was,  to  look 
after  some  room  in  which,  until  better  times  dawned  upon 
him,  he  could  contrive  to  exist,  without  trenching  upon  the 
hospitality  of  Newman  Noggs,  who  would  have  slept  upon  the 
stairs  with  pleasure,  so  that  his  young  friend  was  accom- 
modated. 

The  vacant  apartment  to  which  the  bill  in  the  parlor 
window  bore  reference,  appeared,  on  inquiry,  to  be  a  small 
back  room  on  the  second  floor,  reclaimed  from  the  leads,  and 
overlooking  a  soot-bespeckled  prospect  of  tiles  and  chimney- 
pots. For  the  letting  of  this  portion  of  the  house  from  week 
to  week,  on  reasonable  terms,  the  parlor  lodger  was  em- 
powered to  treat ;  he  being  deputed  by  the  landlord  to 
dispose  of  the  rooms  as  they  became  vacant,  and  to  keep  a 
sharp  look-out  thai  the  lodgers  didn't  run  away.  As  a  means 
of  securing  the  punctual  discharge  of  which  last  service  he 
was  permitted  to  live  rent-free,  lest  he  should  at  any  time  be 
tempted  to  run  away  himself. 

Of  this  chamber,  Nicholas  became  the  tenant  ;  and  having 
hired  a  few  common  articles  of  furniture  from  a  neighboring 
broker,  and  paid  the  first  week's  hire  in  advance,  out  of  a 
small  fund  raised  by  the  conversion  of  some  spare  clothes  into 
ready  money,  he  sat  himself  down  to  ruminate  upon  his 
prospects,  which,  like  the  prospect  outside  his  window,  were 
sufficiently  confined  and  dingy.  As  they  by  no  means 
improved  on  better  acquaintance,  and  as  familiarity  breeds 
contempt,  he  resolved  to  banish  them  from  his  thoughts  by 
dint  of  hard  walking.     So,  taking  up  his  hat,  and  leaving  poor 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  189 

Smike  to  arrange  and  re-arrange  the  room,  with  as  much 
delight  as  if  it  had  been  the  costhest  palace,  he  betook  him- 
self to  the  streets,  and  mingled  with  the  crowd  which  thronged 
them. 

Although  a  man  may  lose  a  sense  of  his  own  importance 
when  he  is  a  mere  unit  among  a  busy  throng,  all  utterly 
regardless  of  him,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  he  can  dis- 
possess himself,  with  equal  facility,  of  a  very  strong  sense  of 
the  importance  and  magnitude  of  his  cares.  The  unhappy 
state  of  his  own  affairs  was  the  one  idea  which  occupied  the 
brain  of  Nicholas,  walk  as  fast  as  he  would  ;  and  when  he 
tried  to  dislodge  it  by  speculating  on  the  situation  and  pros- 
pects of  the  people  who  surrounded  him,  he  caught  himself, 
in  a  few  seconds,  contrasting  their  condition  with  his  own, 
and  gliding  almost  imperceptibly  back  into  his  old  train  of 
tlTought  again. 

Occupied  m  these  reflections,  as  he  was  making  his  way 
along  one  of  the  great  public  thoroughfares  of  London,  he 
chanced  to  raise  his  eyes  to  a  blue  board,  whereon  was 
inscribed,  in  characters  of  gold,  "General  Agency  Office  ;  for 
places  and  situations  of  all  kinds  inquire  within."  It  was  a 
shop-front,  fitted  up  with  a  gauze  blind  and  an  inner  door  ; 
and  in  the  window  hung  a  long  and  tempting  array  of  written 
placards,  announcing  vacant  places  of  every  grade,  from  a 
secretary's  to  a  footboy's.'' 

Nicholas  halted,  instinctively,  before  this  temple  of 
promise,  and  ran  his  eye  over  the  capital-text  openings  in  life 
which  were  so  profusely  displayed.  When  he  had  completed 
his  survey  he  walked  on  a  little  way,  and  then  back,  and  then 
on  again  ;  at  length,  after  pausing  irresolutely  several  times 
before  the  door  of  the  General  Agency  Office,  he  made  up  his 
mind,  and  stepped  in. 

He  found  himself  in  a  little  floor-clothed  room,  with  a  high 
desk  railed  of!  in  one  corner,  behind  which  sat  a  lean  youth 
with  cunning  eyes  and  a  protruding  chin,  whose  performances 
in  capital-text  darkened  the  window.  He  had  a  thick  ledger 
lying  open  before  him,  and  with  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand 
inserted  between  the  leaves,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  a  very  fat 
old  lady  in  a  mob-cap — evidently  the  proprietress  of  the 
establishment — who  was  airing  herself  at  the  fire,  seemed  to 
be  only  waiting  her  directions  to  refer  to  some  entries  con- 
tained within  its  rusty  clasps. 

As  there  was  a  board  outside,  which  acquainted  the  public 


igo  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

that  servants-of-all-work  were  perpetually  in  waiting  to  be  hired 
from  ten  till  four,  Nicholas  knew  at  once  that  some  half-dozen 
strong  young  women,  each  with  pattens  and  an  umbrella,  who 
were  sitting  upon  a  form  in  one  corner,  were  in  attendance 
for  that  purpose,  especially  as  the  poor  things  looked  anxious 
and  weary.  He  was  not  quite  so  certain  of  the  callings  and 
stations  of  two  smart  young  ladies  who  were  in  conversation 
with  the  fat  lady  before  the  ,fire,  until — having  sat  himself 
down  in  a  corner,  and  remarked  that  he  would  wait  until  the 
other  customers  had  been  served — the  fat  lady  resumed  the 
dialogue  which  his  entrance  had  interrupted. 

"Cook,  Tom,"  said  the  fat  lady,  still  airing  herself  as 
aforesaid. 

"  Cook,"  said  Tom,  turning  over  some  leaves  of  the  ledger. 
"Well!" 

"  Read  out  an  easy  place  or  two,"  said  the  fat  lady. 

"  Pick  out  very  light  ones,  if  you  please,  young  man," 
interposed  a  genteel  female,  in  shepherd's-plaid  boots,  who 
appeared  to  be  the  client. 

"'Mrs.  Marker,'"  said  Tom,  reading,  "' Russell  Place, 
Russell  Square  ;  offers  eighteen  guineas  ;  tea  and  sugar  found. 
Two  in  family  and  see  very  little  company.  Five  servants 
kept.     No  man.     No  followers.' " 

"Oh  Lor!  "  tittered  the  client.  "  That  won't  do.  Read 
another,  young  man,  will  you  }  " 

"'Mrs.  Wrymug,' "  said  Tom,  "'Pleasant  Place,  Fins- 
bury.  Wages,  twelve  guineas.  No  tea,  no  sugar.  Serious 
family '  " 

"Ah!  you  needn't  mind  reading  that,"  interrupted  the 
client. 

"'Three  serious  footmen,'  "  said  Tom,  impressively. 

"  Three  ?  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  the  client  in  an  altered 
tone. 

"  Three  serious  footmen,"  replied  Tom.  " '  Cook,  housemaid 
and  nursemaid  •  each  female  servant  required  to  join  the  Little 
Bethel  Congregation  three  times  every  Sunday — with  a  serious 
footman.  !f  the  cook  is  more  serious  than  the  footman,  she  will 
be  expected  to  improve  the  footman  ;  if  tlie  footman  is  more 
serious  than  the  cook,  he  will  be  expected  to  improve  the 
cook.'  " 

"I'll  take  the  address  of  that  place,"  said  the  client;  "  I 
don't  know  but  what  it  mightn't  suit  me  pretty  well." 

"  Here's    another,"    remarked    Tom,    turning    over    the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  191 

leaves  ;  "  '  Family  of  Mr.  Gallanbile,  M.  P.  Fifteen  guineas, 
tea  and  sugar,  and  servants  allowed  to  see  male  cousins,  if 
godly.  Note.  Cold  dinner  in  the  kitchen  on  the  Sabbath, 
Mr.  Gallanbile  being  devoted  to  the  Observance  question. 
No  victuals  whatever,  cooked  on  the  Lord's  day,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  dinner  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gallanbile,  which,  being  a 
work  of  piety  and  necessity,  is  exempted.  Mr.  Gallanbile 
dines  late  on  the  day  of  resi,  in  order  to  prevent  the  sinful- 
ness of  the  cook's  dressing  herself.'  " 

"  I  don't  think  that'll  answer  as  well  as  the  other,"  said 
the  client,  after  a  little  whispering  with  her  friend.  "  I'll  take 
the  other  direction,  if  you  please,  young  man.  I  can  but 
come  back  again,  if  it  don't  do." 

Tom  made  out  the  address,  as  requested,  and  the  genteel 
client,  having  satisfied  the  fat  lady  with  a  small  fee,  mean- 
jvhile,  went  away,  accompanied  by  her  friend. 

As  Nicholas  opened  his  mouth,  to  request  the  young  man 
to  turn  to  letter  S,  and  let  him  know  what  secretaryships 
remained  undisposed  of,  there  came  into  the  office  an  appli- 
cant, in  whose  favor  he  immediately  retired,  and  whose  ap- 
pearance both  surprised  and  interested  him. 

This  was  a  young  lady  who  could  be  scarcely  eighteen,  of 
very  slight  and  delicate  figure,  but  exquisitely  shaped,  who, 
walking  timidly  up  to  the  desk,  made  an  inquiry,  in  a  very 
low  tone  of  voice,  relative  to  some  situation  as  governess,  or 
companion  to  a  lady.  She  raised  her  veil,  for  an  instant, 
while  she  p/eferred  the  inquiry,  and  disclosed  a  countenance 
of  most  uncommon  beauty,  though  shaded  by  a  cloud  of  sad- 
ness, which,  in  one  so  young,  was  doubly  remarkable.  Hav- 
ing received  a  card  of  reference  to  some  person  on  the  books, 
she  made  the  usual  acknowledgment,  and  glided  away. 

She  was  neatly  but  very  quietly  attired  ;  so  much  so, 
indeed,  that  it  seemed  as  though  her  dress,  if  it  had  been 
worn  by  one  who  imparted  fewer  graces  of  her  own  to  it, 
might  have  looked  poor  and  shabby.  Her  attendant — for 
she  had  one — was  a  red-faced,  round-eyed,  slovenly  girl,  who, 
from  a  certain  roughness  about  the  bare  arms  that  peeped 
from  under  her  draggled  shawl,  and  the  half-washed-out 
traces  of  smut  and  blacklead  which  tattoed  her  countenance, 
was  clearly  of  a  kin  with  the  servants-of-all-work  on  the  form  ; 
between  whom  and  herself  there  had  passed  various  grins  and 
glances,  indicative  of  the  freemasonry  of  the  craft. 

This  girl  followed  her  mistress  ;  and,  before  Nicholas  had 


I g2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

recovered  from  the  first  effects  of  his  surprise  and  admiration, 

the  young  lady  was  gone.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  such  complete 
and  utter  improbability  as  some  sober  people  may  think,  that 
he  would  have  followed  them  out,  had  he  not  been  restrained 
by  what  passed  between  the  fat  lady  and  her  bookkeeper. 

"  When  is  she  coming  again,  Tom  ? "  asked  the  fat  lady. 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  replied  Tom,  mending  his  pen. 

"  Where  have  you  sent  her  to  .''  "  asked  the  fat  lady. 

"  Mrs.  Clark's,'"  replied  Tom. 

"  She'll  have  a  nice  life  of  it,  if  she  goes  there,"  obser\-ed 
the  fat  lady,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  a  tin  box. 

Tom  made  no  other  reply  than  thrusting  his  tongue  into 
his  cheek,  and  pointing  the  feather  of  his  pen  towards  Nicho- 
las— reminders  which  elicited  from  the  fat  lady  an  inquiry,  of 
"Now,  sir,  what  can  we  do  iox you  f" 

Nicholas  briefly  replied,  that  he  wanted  to  know  whether 
there  was  any  such  post  to  be  had,  as  secretary  or  amanuen- 
sis to  a  gentleman. 

"  Any  such  !  "  rejoined  the  mistress  ;  "  a  dozen  such. 
An't  there,  Tom  ?  " 

"  /should  think  so,"  answered  that  young  gentleman  ;  and 
as  he  said  it,  he  winked  towards  Nicholas,  with  a  degree  of 
familiarity  which  he,  no  doubt,  intended  for  a  rather  flattering 
compliment,  but  with  which  Nicholas  was  most  ungratefully 
digusted. 

Upon  reference  to  the  book,  it  appeared  that  the  dozen 
secretaryships  had  dwindled  down  to  one.  Mr.  Gregsbury, 
the  great  member  of  Parliament,  of  Manchester  Buildings, 
Westminster,  wanted  a  young  man,  to  keep  his  papers  and 
correspondence  in  order  ;  and  Nicholas  was  exactly  the  sort 
of  young  man  that  Mr.  Gregsbury  wanted. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  terms  are,  as  he  said  he'd  settle 
them  himself  with  the  party,"  observed  the  fat  lady  ;  "  but 
they  must  be  pretty  good  ones,  because  he's  a  member  of 
parliament." 

Inexperienced  as  he  was.  Nicholas  did  not  feel  quite  as- 
sured of  the  force  of  this  reasoning,  or  the  justice  of  this 
conclusion  ;  but  without  troubling  himself  to  question  it,  he 
took  down  the  address,  and  resolved  to  wait  upon  Mr.  Gregs- 
bury, without  delay. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  number  is,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  Man- 
chester Buildings  isn't  a  large  place  ;  and  if  the  worst  comes 
to  the  worst,  it  won't  take  you  very  long  to  knock   at   all  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


193 


doors  on  both  sides  of  the  way  till  you  find  him  out.     I  say, 
what  a  good-looking  gal  that  was,  wasn't  she  ?  " 

"  What  girl  ?  "  demanded  Nicholas,  sternly. 

"  Oh  yes.  I  know — what  gal,  eh  ?  "  whispered  Tom,  shut- 
ting one  eye,  and  cocking  his  chin  in  the  air.  "  You  didn't 
see  her,  you  didn't — I  say,  don't  you  wish  you  was  me,  when 
she  comes  to-morrow  morning  ?  " 

Nicholas  looked  at  the  ugly  clerk,  as  if  he  had  a  mind  to 
reward  his  admiration  of  the  young  lady  by  beating  the  ledger 
about  his  ears,  but  he  refrained,  and  strode  haughtily  out  of 
the  office  ;  setting  at  defiance,  in  his  indignation,  those 
ancient  laws  of  chivalry,  which  not  only  made  it  proper  and 
lawful  for  all  good  knights  to  hear  the  praise  of  the  ladies  to 
whom  they  were  devoted,  but  rendered  it  incumbent  upon 
them  to  roam  about  the  world,  and  knock  at  head  all  such 
matter-of-fact  and  unpoetical  characters,  as  declined  to  exalt, 
above  all  the  earth,  damsels  whom  they  had  never  chanced  to 
look  upon  or  hear  of — as  if  that  were  any  excuse ! 

Thinking  no  longer  of  his  own  misfortunes,  but  wondering 
what  could  be  those  of  the  beautiful  girl  he  had  seen,  Nicho- 
las, with  many  wrong  turns,  and  many  inquiries,  and  almost 
as  many  misdirections,  bent  his  steps  towards  the  place 
whither  he  had  been  directed. 

Within  the  precincts  of  the  ancient  city  of  Westminster, 
and  within  half  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  its  ancient  sanctuary,  is 
a  narrow  and  dirty  region,  the  sanctuary  of  the  smaller  mem- 
bers of  Parliament  in  modern  days.  It  is  all  comprised  in 
one  street  of  gloomy  lodging-houses,  from  whose  windows,  in 
vacation-time,  there  frown  long  melancholy  rows  of  bills, 
which  say,  as  plainly  as  did  the  countenances  of  their  occupi- 
ers, ranged  on  ministerial  and  opposition  benches  in  the  ses- 
sion which  slumbers  with  its  fathers.  "  To  Let,"  "  To  Let." 
In  busier  periods  of  the  year  these  bills  disappear,  and  the 
houses  swarm  with  legislators.  There  are  legislators  in  the 
parlors,  in  the  first  floor,  in  the  second,  in  the  third,  in  the 
garrets  ;  the  small  apartments  reek  with  the  breath  of  deputa- 
tions and  delegates.  In  damp  weather,  the  place  is  rendered 
close,  by  the  steams  of  moist  acts  of  Parliament  and  frowsy 
petitions  ;  general  postmen  grow  faint  as  they  entered  its 
infected  limits,  and  shabby  figures  in  quest  of  franks,  flit  rest- 
lessly to  and  fro  like  the  troubled  ghosts  of  Complete  Letter- 
writers  departed.  This  is  Manchester  Buildings  ;  and  here, 
at  all  hours  of  the  night,  may  be  heard  the   rattling  of  latch- 


194  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

keys  in  their  respective  keyholes  :  with  now  and  then — when 
a  gust  of  wind  sweeping  across  the  water  which  washes  the 
Buildings'  feet,  impels  the  sound  towards  its  entrance — the 
weak,  shrill  voice  of  some  young  member  practising  to-mor- 
row's speech.  All  the  livelong  day,  there  is  a  grinding  of 
organs  and  clashing  and  clanging  of  little  boxes  of  music  ; 
for  Manchester  Buildings  is  an  eel-pot,  which  has  no  outlet 
but  its  awkward  mouth — a  case-bottle  which  has  no  thorough- 
fare, and  a  short  and  narrow  neck — and  in  this  respect  it 
may  be  typical  of  the  fate  of  some  few  among  its  more  adven- 
turous residents,  who,  after  wriggling  themselves  into  Parlia- 
ment by  violent  efforts  and  contortions,  find  that  it,  too,  is  no 
thoroughfare  for  them  ;  that,  like  Manchester  Buildings,  it 
leads  to  nothing  beyond  itself  ;  and  that  they  are  fain  at  last 
to  back  out,  no  wiser,  no  richer,  not  one  whit  more  famous, 
than  they  went  in. 

Into  Manchester  Buildings  Nicholas  turned,  with  the  ad- 
dress of  the  great  Mr.  Gregsbury  in  his  hand.  As  there  was 
a  stream  of  people  pouring  into  a  shabby  house  not  far  from 
the  entrance,  he  waited  until  they  had  made  their  way  in,  and 
then  making  up  to  the  servant,  ventured  to  inquire  if  he  knew 
where  Mr.  Gregsbury  lived. 

The  servant  was  a  very  pale,  shabby  boy,  who  looked  as 
if  he  had  slept  underground  from  his  infancy,  as  very  likely 
he  had.  "  Mr.  Gregsbury  ?  "  said  he  ;  "  Mr.  Gregsbury 
lodges  here.     It's  all  right.     Come  in  !  " 

Nicholas  thought  he  might  as  well  get  in  while  he  could, 
so  in  he  walked  ;  and  he  had  no  sooner  done  so,  than  the  boy 
shut  the  door,  and  made  off. 

This  was  odd  enough ;  but  what  was  more  embarrassing 
was,  that  all  along  the  passage,  and  all  along  the  narrow  stairs, 
blocking  up  the  window,  and  making  the  dark  entry  darker 
still,  was  a  confused  crowd  of  persons  with  great  importance 
depicted  in  their  looks  ;  who  were,  to  all  appearance,  waiting 
in  silent  expectation  of  some  coming  event.  From  time  to 
time,  one  man  would  whisper  his  neighbor,  or  a  little  group 
would  whisper  together,  and  then  the  whisperers  would  nod 
fiercely  to  each  other,  or  give  their  heads  a  relentless  shake, 
as  if  they  were  bent  upon  doing  something  very  desperate,  and 
were  determined  not  to  be  put  off,  whatever  happened. 

As  a  few  minutes  elapsed  without  anything  occurring  to 
explain  this  phenomenon,  and  as  he  felt  his  own  position  a 
peculiarly  uncomfortable  one,  Nicholas  was  on  the  point  of 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


195 


seeking  some  information  from  the  man  next  him,  when  a 
sudden  move  was  visible  on  the  stairs,  and  a  voice  was  heard 
to  cry,   "  Now,  gentlemen,  have  the  goodness  to  walk  up  !  " 

So  far  from  walking  up,  the  gentlemen  on  the  stairs  began 
to  walk  down  with  great  alacrity,  and  to  entreat,  with  extraor- 
dinary politeness,  that  the  gentlemen  nearest  the  street 
would  go  first ;  the  gentlemen  nearest  the  street  retorted,  with 
equal  courtesy,  that  they  couldn't  think  of  such  a  thing  on  any 
account ;  but  they  did  it,  without  thinking  of  it,  inasmuch  as 
the  other  gentlemen  pressing  some  half-dozen  (among  whom 
was  Nicholas)  forward,  and  closing  up  behind,  pushed  them, 
not  merely  up  the  stairs,  but  into  the  very  sitting-room  of  Mr. 
Gregsbury,  which  they  were  thus  compelled  to  enter  with  most 
unseemly  precipitation,  and  without  the  means  of  retreat  ;  the 
press  behind  them,  more  than  filling  the  apartment. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury,  "  you  are  welcome. 
I  am  rejoiced  to  see  }'ou." 

^  For  a  gentleman  who  was  rejoiced  to  see  a  body  of  visi- 
tors, Mr.  Gregsbury  looked  as  uncomfortable  as  might  be  ; 
but  perhaps  this  was  occasioned  by  senatorial  gravity,  and  a 
statesmanlike  habit  of  keeping  his  feelings  under  control.  He 
was  a  tough,  burly,  thick-headed  gentleman,  with  a  loud  voice, 
a  pompous  manner,  a  tolerable  command  of  sentences  with 
no  meaning  in  them,  and,  in  short,  every  requisite  for  a  very 
good  member  indeed. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury,  tossing  a  great 
bundle  of  papers  into  a  wicker  basket  at  his  feet,  and  throw- 
ing himself  back  in  his  chair  with  his  arms  over  the  elbows, 
"  you  are  dissatisfied  with  my  conduct,  I  see  by  the  news- 
papers." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Gregsbury,  we  are,"  said  a  plump  old  gentle- 
man in  a  violent  heat,  bursting  out  of  the  throng,  and  jjlant- 
ing  himself  in  the  front. 

"  Do  my  eyes  deceive  me,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury,  looking 
towards  the  speaker,   "or  is  that  my  old  friend  Pugstyles  .''  " 

"  I  am  that  man,  and  no  other,  sir,"  replied  the  plump  old 
gentleman. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  my  worthy  friend,"  said  Mr.  Gregs- 
bury. "  Pugstyles,  my  dear  friend,  I  am  very  sorry  to  see  you 
here." 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  be  here,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pugstyles; 
"  but  your  conduct,  Mr.  Gregsbury,  has  rendered  this  deputa- 
tion from  your  constituents,  imperatively  necessary." 


196 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


"  My  conduct,  Pugstyles,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbur}%  looking 
round  upon  the  deputation  with  gracious  magnanimity — "  My 
conduct  has  been,  and  ever  will  be,  regulated  by  a  sincere 
regard  for  the  true  and  real  interests  of  this  great  and  happy 
country.  Whether  I  look  at  home,  or  abroad  ;  whether  I  be- 
hold the  peaceful  industrious  communities  of  our  island  home  : 
her  rivers  covered  with  steamboats,  her  roads  with  locomo- 
tives, her  streets  with  cabs,  her  skies  with  balloons  of  a  power 
and  magnitude  hitherto  unknown  in  the  history  of  aeronautics 
in  this  or  any  other  nation — I  say,  whether  I  look  merely  at 
home,  or,  stretching  my  eyes  farther,  contemplate  the  bound- 
less prospect  of  conquest  and  possession — achieved  by  British 
perseverance  and  British  valor — which  is  outspread  before 
me,  I  clasp  my  hands,  and  turning  my  eyes  to  the  broad  ex- 
panse above  my  head,  exclaim,  '  Thank  Heaven,  I  am  a 
Briton  ! '  " 

The  time  had  been,  when  this  burst  of  enthusiasm  would 
have  been  cheered  to  the  very  echo  \  but  now,  the  deputation 
received  it  with  chilling  coldness.  The  general  impression 
seemed  to  be,  that  as  an  explanation  of  Mr.  Gregsbury's  po- 
litical conduct,  it  did  not  enter  quite  enough  into  detail  ;  and 
one  gentleman  in  the  rear  did  not  scruple  to  remark  aloud, 
that,  for  his  purpose,  it  savored  rather  too  much  of  a  "  gam- 
mon "  tendency. 

"  The  meaning  of  that  term — gammon,"  said  Mr.  Gregs- 
bury,  "  is  unknown  to  me.  If  it  means  that  I  grow  a  little  too 
fervid,  or  perhaps  even  hyperbolical,  in  extolling  my  native 
land,  I  admit  the  full  justice  of  the  remark.  I  am  proud  of  this 
free  and  happy  country.  My  form  dilates,  my  eye  glistens, 
my  breast  heaves,  my  heart  swells,  my  bosom  burns,  when  I 
call  to  mind  her  greatness  and  her  glory." 

"We  wish,  sir,"  remarked  Mr.  Pugstyles,  calmly,  "to  ask 
you  a  few  questions." 

"  If  you  please,  gentlemen  ;  my  time  is  yours — and  my 
country's — and  my  country's — "  said  Mr.  Gregsbury. 

This  permission  being  conceded,  Mr.  Pugstyles  put  on  his 
spectacles,  and  referred  to  a  written  paper  which  he  drew 
from  his  pocket  ;  whereupon  nearly  every  other  member  of 
the  deputation  pulled  a  written  paper  from  his  pocket,  to 
check  Mr.  Pugstyles  off,  as  he  read  the  questions. 

This  done,  Mr.  Pugstyles  proceeded  to  business. 

"  Question  number  one. — Whether,  sir,  you  did  not  give  a 
a  voluntary  pledge  previous  to  your  election,  that  in  event  of 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  197 

your  being  returned,  you  would  immediately  put  down  the 
practice  of  coughing  and  groaning  in  the  House  of  Commons  ? 
And  whether  you  did  not  submit  to  be  coughed  and  groaned 
down  in  the  very  first  debate  of  the  session,  and  have  since 
made  no  effort  to  effect  a  reform  in  this  respect  ?  Whether 
you  did  not  also  pledge  yourself  to  astonish  the  government, 
and  make  them  shrink  in  their  shoes  ?  And  whether  you 
have  astonished  them,  and  made  them  shrink  in  their  shoes, 
or  not  ?  " 

"  Go  on  to  the  next  one,  my  dear  Pugstyles,"  said  Mr. 

Gregsbury. 

"  Have  you  any  explanation  to  offer  with  reference  to  that 
question,  sir  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pugstyles. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury. 

The  members  of  the  deputation  looked  fiercely  at  each 
other,  and  afterwards  at  the  member.  "Dear  Pugstyles" 
having  taken  a  very  long  stare  at  Mr.  Gregsbury  over  the  tops 
of  his  spectacles,  resumed  his  list  of  inquiries. 

"  Question  number  two. — Whether,  sir,  you  did  not  like- 
wise give  a  voluntary  pledge  that  you  would  support  your  col- 
league on  every  occasion  ;  and  whether  you  did  not,  the  night 
before  last,  desert  him  and  vote  upon  the  other  side,  because 
the  wife  of  a  leader  on  that  other  side  had  invited  Mrs.  Gregs- 
bury to  an  evening  party  ?  " 

"Go  on,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury 

"  Nothing  to  say  on  that,  either,  sir  ?"  asked  the  spokes- 
man. 

"  Nothing  whatever,"  replied  Mr.  Gregsbury.  The  depu- 
tation, who  had  only  seen  him  at  canvassing  or  election  time, 
were  struck  dumb  by  his  coolness.  He  didn't  appear  like  the 
same  man  ;  then  he  was  all  milk  and  honey  ;  now  he  was  all 
starch  and  vinegar.  But  men  are  so  different  at  different 
times  ! 

"  Question  number  three — and  last — "  said  Mr.  Pugstyles, 
emphatically.  "  Whether,  sir,  you  did  not  state  upon  the 
husthigs,  that  it  was  your  firm  and  determined  intention  to 
oppose  everything  proposed ;  to  divide  the  house  upon  every 
question,  to  move  for  returns  on  every  subject,  to  place  a  mo- 
tion on  the  books  every  day,  and,  in  short,  in  your  own  mem- 
orable words,  to  play  the  very  devil  with  everything  and 
everybody  ? "  With  this  comprehensive  inquiry,  Mr.  Pug- 
styles folded  up  his  list  of  questions,  as  did  all  his  backers. 

Mr.  Gregsbury  reflected,  blew  his  nose,  threw  himself  fur- 


I  gS  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

ther  back  in  his  chair,  came  forward  again,  leaning  his  elbows 
on  the  table,  made  a  triangle  with  his  two  thumbs  and  his  two 
forefingers,  and  tapping  his  nose  with  the  apex  thereof,  re- 
plied (smiling  as  he  said  it),  "  I  deny  everything." 

At  this  unexpected  answer,  a  hoarse  murmur  arose  from 
the  deputation  ;  and  the  same  gentleman  who  had  expressed 
an  opinion  relative  to  the  gammonnig  nature  of  the  introduc- 
tory speech,  again  made  a  monosyllabic  demonstration,  by 
growling  out  "  Resign  !  "  Which  growl  being  taken  up  by 
his  fellows,  swelled  into  a  very  earnest  and  general  remon- 
strance. 

"  I  am  requested,  sir,  to  express  a  hope,"  said  Mr.  Pug- 
styles,  with  a  distant  bow,  "  that  on  receiving  a  requisition  to 
that  effect  from  a  great  majority  of  your  constituents,  you  will 
not  object  at  once  to  resign  your  seat  in  favor  of  some  candi- 
date whom  they  think  they  can  better  trust." 

To  this,  Mr.  Gregsbury  read  the  following  reply,  which, 
anticipating  the  request,  he  had  composed  in  the  form  of  a 
letter,  whereof  copies  had  been  made  to  send  round  to  the 
newspapers. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Pugstyles, 

"  Next  to  the  welfare  of  our  beloved  island — this  great 
and  free  and  happy  country,  whose  powers  and  resources  are, 
I  sincerely  believe,  illimitable — I  value  that  noble  indepen- 
dence which  is  an  Englishman's  proudest  boast,  and  which  I 
fondly  hope  to  bequeath  to  my  children,  untarnished  and  un- 
sullied. Actuated  by  no  personal  motives,  but  moved  only  by 
high  and  great  constitutional  considerations  ;  which  I  will  not 
attempt  to  explain,  for  they  are  really  beneath  the  compre- 
hension of  those  who  have  not  made  themselves  masters,  as  I 
have,  of  the  intricate  and  arduous  study  of  politics ;  I  would 
rather  keep  my  seat,  and  intend  doing  so. 

"Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  present  my  compliments  to 
the  constituent  body,  and  acquaint  them  with  this  circum- 
stance ? 

"  With  great  esteem, 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Pugstyles, 

"  &c.,  &c." 

"  Then  you  will  not  resign,  under  any  circumstances  .''  " 
asked  the  spokesman. 

Mr,  Gregsbury  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  199 

"  Then,  good-morning,  sir,"  said  Pugstyles,  angrily. 
"  Heaven  bless  you  !  "  said  Mr.  Gregsbury.    And  the  dep- 
utation, with  many  growls  and  scowls,  filed  off  as  quickly  as 
the  narrowness  of  the  staircase  would  allow  of  their  getting 
down. 

The  last  man  being  gone,  Mr.  Gregsbury  rubbed  his 
hands  and  chuckled,  as  merry  fellows  will,  when  they  think 
they  have  said  or  done  a  more  than  commonly  good  thing ; 
he  was  so  engrossed  in  this  self-congratulation,  that  he  did 
not  observe  that  Nicholas  had  been  left  behind  in  the 
shadow  of  the  window-curtains,  until  that  young  gentleman, 
fearing  he  might  otherwise  overhear  some  soliloquy  intended 
to  have  no  listeners,  coughed  twice  or  thrice,  to  attract  the 
member's  notice, 

"  What's  that  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gregsbury,  in  sharp  accents. 

Nicholas  stepped  forward,  and  bowed. 

"  What  do  you  do  here,  sir?  "  asked  Mr.  Gregsbury  ;  "  a 
spy  upon  my  privacy  !  A  concealed  voter !  You  have  heard 
my  answer,  sir.     Pray  follow  the  deputation." 

"  I  should  have  done  so,  if  I  had  belonged  to  it,  but  I  do 
not,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Then  how  came  you  here,  sir  ? "  was  the  natural  inquiry 
of  Mr.  Gregsbury,  M.P.  "And  where  the  devil  have  you 
come  from,  sir  ?  "  was  the  question  which  followed  it. 

"  I  brought  this  card  from  the  General  Agency  Office,  sir," 
said 'l^TclToTas7^''wTsHTngTo  offer  myself  as  your  secretaiy,  and 
understanding  that  you  stood  in  need  of  one." 

"  That's  all  you  have  come  for,  is  it  ? "  said  Mr.  Gregs- 
bury, eyeing  him  in  some  doubt. 

Nicholas  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  You  have  no  connection  with  any  of  those  rascally  pa- 
pers, have  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gregsbur}^  "  You  didn't  get  into 
the  room  to  hear  what  was  going  forward,  and  put  it  in  print, 
eh  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  connection,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  with  anything 
at  present,"  rejoined  Nicholas, — politely  enough,  but  quite  at 
his  ease. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Gregsbury.  "  How  did  you  find  your 
way  up  here,  then  ?  " 

Nicholas  related  how  he  had  been  forced  up  by  the  depu- 
tation. 

"  That  was  the  way,  was  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gregsbury.  "  Sit 
down." 


2  oo  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

Nicholas  took  a  chair,  and  Mr.  Gregsbury  stared  at  him 
for  a  long  time,  as  if  to  make  certain,  before  he  asked  any 
further  questions,  that  there  were  no  objections  to  his  out- 
ward appearance. 

"  You  want  to  be  my  secretary,  do  you  ? "  he  said  at 
length. 

"  I  wish  to  be  employed  in  that  capacity,  sir,"  replied 
Nicholas. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury  ;  "now  what  can  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  suppose,"  replied  Nicholas,  smiling,  "  that  I  can  do 
what  usually  falls  to  the  lot  of  other  secretaries." 

"  What's  that }  "  inquired  Mr.  Gregsbury. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Ah  !  What  is  it  1  "  retorted  the  member,  looking  shrewdly 
at  him,  with  his  head  one  side. 

"  A  secretary's  duties  are  rather  difficult  to  define,  perhaps," 
said  Nicholas,  considering.  "  They  include,  I  presume,  cor- 
respondence ?  " 

"  Good,"  interposed  Mr.  Gregsbury. 

"  The  arrangement  of  papers  and  documents  ?  " 

"  Very  good." 

"  Occasionally,  perhaps  the  writing  from  your  dictation  ; 
and  possibly,  sir," — said  Nicholas,  with  a  half  smile,  "  the 
copying  of  your  speech  for  some  public  journal,  when  you 
have  made  one  of  more  than  usual  importance." 

"  Certainly,"  rejoined  Mr.  Gregsbury.     "  What  else  ?  " 

"  Really,"  said  Nicholas,  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "  I 
am  not  able,  at  this  instant,  to  recapitulate  any  other  duty  of 
a  secretary,  iDcyond  the  general  one  of  making  himself  as  agree- 
able and  useful  to  his  employer  as  he  can,  consistently  with 
his  own  respectability,  and  without  overstepping  that  line  of 
duties  which  he  undertakes  to  perform,  and  which  the  desig- 
nation of  his  office  is  usually  understood  to  imply." 

Mr.  Gregsbury  looked  fixedly  at  Nicholas  for  a  short 
time,  and  then  glancing  warily  round  the  room,  said  in  a  sup- 
pressed voice  : 

"  This  is  all  very  well,  Mr. — what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Nickleby." 

"  This  is  all  very  well,  Mr.  Nickleby,  and  very  proper,  so 
far  as  it  goes — so  far  as  it  goes,  but  it  doesn't  go  far  enough. 
There  are  other  duties,  Mr.  Nickleby,  which  a  secretary  to  a 
parliamentary  gentleman  must  never  lose  sight  of.  I  should 
require  to  be  crammed,  sir." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  201 

*'  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Nicholas,  doubtful  wheth- 
er he  had  heard  aright. 

" — To  be  crammed,  sir,"  repeated  Mr.  Gregsbury. 

"  May  I  beg  your  pardon  again,  if  I  inquire  what  you 
mean,  sir  t  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  My  meaning,  sir,  is  perfectly  plain,"  replied  Mr.  Gregs- 
bury, with  a  solemn  aspect.  "  My  secretary  would  have  to 
make  himself  master  of  the  foreign  policy  of  the  world,  as  it 
is  mirrored  in  the  newspapers  ;  to  run  his  eye  over  all  accounts 
of  public  meetings,  all  leading  articles,  and  accounts  of  the 
proceedings  of  public  bodies  ;  and  to  make  notes  of  anything 
which  it  appeared  to  him  might  be  made  a  point  of,  in  any 
little  speech  upon  the  question  of  some  petition  lying  on  the 
table,  or  anything  of  that  kind.     Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"I  think  I  do,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury,  "it  would  be  necessary  for 
him  to  make  himself  acquainted,  from  day  to  day,  with  news- 
paper paragraphs  on  passing  events  ;  such  as  '  Mysterious 
disappearance,  and  supposed  suicide  of  a  pot-boy,'  or  anything 
of  that  sort  upon  which  I  might  found  a  question  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  State  for  the  Home  Department.  Then,  he  would  have 
to  copy  the  question,  and  as  much  as  I  remembered  of  the  an- 
swer (including  a  litde  compliment  about  independence  and 
good  sense) ;  and  to  send  the  manuscript  in  a  frank  to  the 
local  paper,  with  perhaps  half  a  dozen  lines  of  leader,  to  the 
effect,  that  I  was  always  to  be  found  in  my  place  in  Parliament, 
and  never  shrunk  from  the  responsible  and  arduous  duties, 
and  so  forth.     You  see  ?  " 

Nicholas  bowed. 

"  Besides  which,"  continued  Mr.  Gregsbury,  "  I  should  ex- 
pect him,  now  and  then,  to  go  through  a  few  figures  in  the 
printed  tables,  and  to  pick  out  a  few  results,  so  that  I  might 
come  out  pretty  well  on  timber  duty  questions,  and  finance 
questions,  and  so  on  ;  and  I  should  like  him  to  get  up  a  few 
little  arguments  about  the  disastrous  effects  of  a  return  to 
cash  payments  and  a  metallic  currency,  with  a  touch  now  and 
then  about  the  exportation  of  bullion,  and  the  Emperor  of 
Russia,  and  bank  notes,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing,  which  it's 
only  necessary  to  talk  fluently  about,  because  nobody  under- 
stands it.     Do  you  take  me  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  said  Nicholas. 

"With  regard  to  such  questions  as  are  not  political,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Gregsbury,  warming;  "  and  which  one  can't  be  ex- 


2  02  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

pected  to  care  a  curse  about,  beyond  the  natural  care  of  not 
allowing  inferior  people  to  be  as  well  off  as  ourselves — else 
where  are  our  privileges  ? — I  should  wish  my  secretary  to 
get  together  a  few  little  flourishing  speeches,  "oF'^a  patriotic  cast. 
For  instance,  if  any  preposterous  bill  were  brought  forward, 
for  giving  poor  grubbing  devils  of  authors  a  right  to  their 
own  property,  I  should  like  to  say,  that  I  for  one  would  never 
consent  to  opposing  an  insurmountable  bar  to  the  diffusion  of 
literature  among  the  people, — you  understand? — that  the  crea- 
tions of  the  pocket,  being  man's,  might  belong  to  one  man,  or 
one  family ;  but  that  the  creations  of  the  brain,  being  God's, 
ought  as  a  matter  of  course  to  belong  to  the  people  at  large — 
and  if  I  v/as  pleasantly  disposed,  I  should  like  to  make  a  joke 
about  posterity,  and  say  that  those  who  wrote  for  posterity 
should  be  content  to  be  rewarded  by  the  approbation  of  pos- 
terity ;  it  might  take  with  the  house,  and  could  never  do 
me  any  harm,  because  posterity  can't  be  expected  to  know 
anything  about  me  or  my  jokes  either — do  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  see  that,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  You  must  always  bear  in  mind,  in  such  cases  as  this, 
where  our  interests  are  not  affected,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury,  "  to 
put  it  very  strong  about  the  people,  because  it  comes  out  very 
well  at  election-time  ;  and  you  could  be  as  funny  as  you  liked 
about  the  authors ;  because  I  believe  the  greater  part  of  them 
live  in  lodgings,  and  are  not  voters.  This  is  a  hasty  outline 
of  the  chief  things  you'd  have  to  do,  except  waiting  in  the 
lobby  every  night,  in  case  I  forgot  anything,  and  should  want 
fresh  cramming ;  and,  now  and  then,  during  great  debates, 
sitting  in  the  front  row  of  the  gallery,  and  saying  to  the  people 
about — '  You  see  that  gentleman,  with  his  hand  to  his  face, 
and  his  arm  twisted  round  the  pillar — that's  Mr.  Gregsbury — 
the  celebrated  Mr.  Gregsbury- — '  with  any  other  little  eulogium 
that  might  strike  you  at  the  moment.  And  for  salary,"  said 
Mr.  Gregsbury,  winding  up  with  great  rapidity ;  for  he  was  out 
of  breath — "  And  for  salary,  I  don't  mind  saying  at  once  in 
round  numbers,  to  prevent  any  dissatisfaction — though  it's 
more  than  I've  been  accustomed  to  give — fifteen  shillings  a 
week,  and  find  yourself.     There?  " 

With  this  handsome  offer,  Mr.  Gregsbury  once  more  threw 
himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  looked  like  a  man  who  had  been 
most  profligately  liberal,  but  is  determined  not  to  repent  of  it 
notwithstanding. 

"  Fifteen  shillings  a  week  is  not  much,"  said  Nicholas, 
mildly. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


203 


"  Not  much  ?  Fifteen  shillings  a  week  not  much,  young 
man  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Gregsbury.     "  Fifteen  shillings  a " 

"  Pray  do  not  suppose  that  I  quarrel  with  the  sum,  sir," 
replied  Nicholas  ;  "  for  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess,  that 
whatever  it  may  be  in  itself,  to  me  it  is  a  great  deal.  But  the 
duties  and  responsibilities  make  the  recompense  small,  and 
they  are  so  very  heavy  that  I  fear  to  undertake  them." 

*'  Do  you  decline  to  undertake  them,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Gregsbury,  with  his  hand  on  the  bell-rope. 

"  I  fear  they  are  too  great  for  my  powers,  however  good 
my  will  may  be,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  That  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  you  had  rather  not  accept 
the  place,  and  that  you  consider  fifteen  shillings  a  week  too 
little,"  said  Mr.  Gregsbury,  ringing.  "  Do  you  decline  it, 
sir  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  alternative  but  to  do  so,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Door,  Matthews  ! "  said  Mr.  Gregsbury,  as  the  boy  ap- 
peared. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  have  troubled  you  unnecessarily,  sir,"  said 
Nicholas. 

"I  am  sorry  you  have,"  rejoined  Mr.  Gregsbur}^,  turning 
his  back  upon  him.     "  Door,  Matthews  !  " 

"  Good-morning,  sir,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Door,  Matthews  !  "  cried  Mr.  Gregsbury. 

The  boy  beckoned  Nicholas,  and  tumbling  lazily  down 
stairs  before  him,  opened  the  door,  and  ushered  him  into  the 
street.  With  a  sad  pensive  air,  he  retraced  his  steps  home- 
wards. 

Smike  had  scraped  a  meal  together  from  the  remnant  of 
last  night's  supper,  and  was  anxiously  awaiting  his  return. 
The  occurrences  of  the  morning  had  not  improved  Nicholas's 
appetite,  and,  by  him,  the  dinner  remained  untasted.  He 
was  sitting  in  a  thoughtful  attitude,  with  the  plate  which  the 
poor  fellow  had  assiduously  filled  with  the  choicest  morsels, 
untouched,  by  his  side,  when  Newman  Noggs  looked  into  the 
room. 

"  Come  back  ?  "  asked  Newman. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Nicholas,  "  tired  to  death  ;  and,  what  is 
worse,  might  have  remained  at  home  for  all  the  good  I  have 
done." 

"  Couldn't  expect  to  do  much  in  one  morning,"  said  New- 
man. 

"  May  be  so,  but  I  am  sanguine,  and  did  expect,"  said 


204  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Nicholas,   "  and  am  proportionately  disappointed."     Saying 
which,  he  gave  Newman  an  account  of  his  proceedings. 

"If  I  could  do  anything,"  said  Nicholas,  "  anything  how- 
ever slight,  until  Ralph  Nickleby  returns,  and  I  have  eased 
my  mind  by  confronting  him,  I  should  feel  happier.  I  should 
think  it  no  disgrace  to  work.  Heaven  knows.  Lying  indo- 
lently here,  like  a  half-tamed  sullen  beast,  distracts  me." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Newman ;  "  small  things  offer — they 
would  pay  the  rent,  and  more — but  you  wouldn't  like  them  ; 
no,  you  could  hardly  be  expected  to  undergo  it — no,  no." 

"What  could  I  hardly  be  expected  to  undergo.-'"  asked 
Nicholas  raising  his  eyes.  "  Show  me,  in  this  wide  waste  of 
London,  any  honest  means  by  which  I  could  even  defray  the 
weekly  hire  of  this  poor  room,  and  see  if  I  shrink  from  re- 
sorting to  them  !  Undergo !  I  have  undergone  too  much, 
my  friend,  to  feel  pride  or  squeamishness  now.  Except — " 
added  Nicholas  hastily,  after  a  short  silence,  "  except  such 
squeamishness  as  is  common  honesty,  and  so  much  pride  as 
constitutes  self-respect.  I  see  little  to  choose,  between  as- 
sistant to  a  brutal  pedagogue,  and  toad-eater  to  a  mean  and 
ignorant  upstart,  be  he  member  or  no  member." 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  I  should  tell  you  what  I  heard 
this  morning  or  not,"  said  Newman. 

"  Has  it  reference  to  what  you  said  just  now  .'' "  asked 
Nicholas. 

"It  has." 

"  Then  in  Heaven's  name,  my  good  friend,  tell  it  me," 
said  Nicholas.  "  For  God's  sake  consider  my  deplorable  con- 
dition ;  and,  while  I  promise  to  take  no  step  without  taking 
counsel  with  you,  give  me,  at  least,  a  vote  in  my.  own  behalf." 

Moved  by  this  entreaty,  Newman  stammered  forth  a  varie- 
ty of  most  unaccountable  and  entangled  sentences,  the  up- 
shot of  which,  was,  that  Mrs.  Kenwigs  had  examined  him,  at 
great  length  that  morning,  touching  the  origin  of  his  acquaint- 
ance with,  and  the  whole  life,  adventures,  and  pedigree  of, 
Nicholas  ;  that  Newman  had  parried  these  questions  as  long 
as  he  could,  but  being,  at  length,  hard  pressed  and  driven 
into  a  corner,  had  gone  so  far  as  to  admit,  that  Nicholas  was 
a  tutor  of  great  accomplishments,  involved  in  some  misfor- 
tunes which  he  was  not  at  liberty  to  explain,  and  bearing  the 
name  of  Johnson.  That  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  impelled  by  gratitude, 
or  ambition,  or  maternal  pride,  or  maternal  love,  or  all  four 
powerful  motives   conjointly,  had    taken    secret   conference 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


205 


with  Mr.  Kenwigs,  and  liad  finally  returned  to  propose  that 
Mr.  Johnson  should  instruct  the  four  Miss  Kenwigses  in  the 
French  language  as  spoken  by  natives,  at  the  weekly  stipend 
of  five  shillings,  current  coin  of  the  realm  ;  being  at  the  rate 
of  one  shilling  per  week,  per  each  Miss  Kenwigs,  and  one 
shilling  over,  until  such  time  as  the  baby  might  be  able  to 
take  it  out  in  grammar. 

"Which,  unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken,"  observed  Mrs. 
Kenwigs  in  making  the  proposition,  "  will  not  be  very  long  ; 
for  such  clever  children,  Mr.  Noggs,  never  were  born  into  this 
world,  I  do  believe." 

"There,"  said  Newman,  "that's  all.  It's  beneath  you,  I 
know  ;  but  I  thought  that  perhaps  you  might " 

"  Might !  "  cried  Nicholas,  with  great  alacrity  ;  "  of  course 
I  shall.  I  accept  the  offer  at  once.  Tell  the  worthy  mother 
so,  without  delay,  my  dear  fellow  ;  and  that  I  am  ready  to  be- 
gin whenever  she  pleases." 

Newman  hastened,  with  joyful  steps,  to  inform  Mrs.  Ken- 
wigs of  his  friend's  acquiescence,  and  soon  returning  brought 
back  word  that  they  would  be  happy  to  see  him  in  the  first 
floor  as  soon  as  convenient ;  that  Mrs.  Kenwigs  had,  upon 
the  instant,  sent  out  to  secure  a  second-hand  French  gram- 
mar and  dialogues,  which  had  long  been  fluttering  in  the  six- 
penny box  at  the  book-stall  round  the  corner  ;  and  that  the 
family,  highly  excited  at  the  prospect  ot  this  addition  to  their 
gentility,  wished  the  initiatory  lesson  to  come  off  immedi> 
ately. 

And  here  it  may  be  observed,  that  Nicholas  was  not  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  a  young  man  of  high  spirit.  He 
would  resent  an  affront  to  himself,  or  interpose  to  redress  a 
wrong  offered  to  another,  as  boldly  and  freely  as  any  knight 
that  ever  set  lance  in  rest ;  but  he  lacked  that  peculiar  excess 
of  coolness  and  great-minded  selfishness,  which  invariably , 
distinguish  gentlemen  of  high  spirit.  In  truth,  for  our  ownj 
part,  we  are  disposed  to  look  upon  such  gentlemen  as  being  I 
rather  incumbrances  than  otherwise  in  rising  families  :  hap- 
pening to  be  acquainted  with  several  whose  spirit  prevents 
their  settling  down  to  any  grovelling  occupation,  and  only  dis- 
plays itself  in  a  tendency  to  cultivate  mustaches,  and  look 
fierce  ;  and  although  mustaches  and  ferocity  are  both  very 
pretty  things  in  their  way,  and  very  much  to  be  commended,  we 
confess  to  a  desire  to  see  them  bred  at  the  owner's  proper 
cost,  rather  than  at  the  expense  of  low-spirited  people. 


2o6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Nicholas,  therefore,  not  being  a  high-spirited  young  man 
according  to  common  parlance,  and  deeming  it  a  greater  deg- 
radation to  borrow,  for  the  supply  of  his  necessities,  from 
Newman  Noggs,  than  to  teach  French  to  the  little  Kenwigses 
for  five  shillings  a  week,  accepted  the  offer,  with  the  alacrity 
already  described,  and  betook  himself  to  the  first  floor  with 
all  convenient  speed. 

Here,  he  was  received  by  Mrs.  Kenwigs  with  a  genteel 
air,  kindly  intended  to  assure  him  of  her  protection  and  sup- 
port ;  and  here,  too,  he  found  Mr.  Lillyvick  and  Miss  Petow- 
ker  ;  the  four  Miss  Kenwigses  on  their  form  of  audience  ;  and 
the  baby  in  a  dwarf  porter's  chair  with  a  deal  tray  before  it, 
amusing  himself  with  a  toy  horse  without  a  head  ;  the  said 
horse  being  composed  of  a  small  wooden  cylinder,  not  unlike 
an  Italian  iron,  supported  on  four  crooked  pegs  and  painted 
in  ingenious  resemblance  of  red  wafers  set  in  blacking. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Johnson  ? "  said  Mr.  Kenwigs. 
"  Uncle — Mr.  Johnson." 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  t  "  said  Mr.  Lillyvick — rather  sharply ; 
for  he  Jiad  not  known  what  Nicholas  was,  on  the  previous 
night,  and  it  was  rather  an  aggravating  circumstance  if  a  tax 
collector  had  been  too  polite  to  a  teacher. 

"  Mr.  Johnson  is  engaged  as  private  master  to  the  children, 
uncle,''  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs. 

"  So  you  said  just  now,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Lillyvick. 

"  But  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  drawing  herself  up, 
"  that  that  will  not  make  them  proud  ;  but  that  they  will  bless 
their  own  good  fortune,  which  has  born  them  superior  to  com- 
mon people's  children.     Do  you  hear,  Morleena .''  " 

"  Yes,  ma,"  replied  Miss  Kenwigs. 

"And  when  you  go  out  in  the  streets,  or  elsewhere,  I  desire 
that  you  don't  boast  of  it  to  the  other  children,"  said  Mrs. 
Kenwigs  ;  "  and  that  if  you  must  say  anything  about  it,  you 
don't  say  no  more  than  '  We've  got  a  private  master  comes  to 
teach  us  at  home,  but  we  ain't  proud,  because  ma  says  it's 
sinful.'     Do  you  hear,  Morleena .''  " 

"  Yes,  ma,"  replied  Miss  Kenwigs  again. 

"  Then  mind  you  recollect,  and  do  as  I  tell  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Kenwigs.     "  Shall  Mr.  Johnson  begin,  uncle  .''  " 

"  I  am  ready  to  hear,  if  Mr.  Johnson  is  ready  to  com- 
mence, my  dear,"  said  the  collector,  assuming  the  air  of  a  pro- 
found critic.  "  What  sort  of  language  do  you  consider  French, 
sir .?  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  207 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  Do  you  consider  it  a  good  language,  sir  ? "  said  the  col- 
lector ;  "  a  pretty  language,  a  sensible  language  ?  " 

"  A  pretty  language,  certainly,"  replied  Nicholas  ;  "  and  as 
it  has  a  name  for  everything,  and  admits  of  elegant  conversa- 
tion about  everything,  I  presume  it  is  a  sensible  one." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  doubtfully.  "  Do  you 
call  it  a  cheerful  language,  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Nicholas,  "  I  should  say  it  was,  certainly." 

"  It's  very  much  changed  since  my  time,  then,"  said  the 
collector,  "  very  much." 

"  Was  it  a  dismal  one  in  your  time  ? "  asked  Nicholas, 
scarcely  able  to  repress  a  smile. 

"  Very,"  replied  Mr.  Lillyvick,  with  some  vehemence  of 
manner.  "  It's  the  war  time  that  1  speak  of ;  the  last  war.  It 
may  be  a  cheerful  language.  I  should  be  sorry  to  contradict 
anybody ;  but  I  can  only  say  that  I've  heard  the  French  pris- 
oners, who  were  natives,  and  ought  to  know  how  to  speak  it, 
talking  in  such  a  dismal  manner,  that  it  made  one  miserable 
to  hear  them.     Ay,  that  I  have,  fifty  times,  sir — fifty  times!  " 

Mr.  Lillyvick  was  waxing  so  cross,  that  Mrs.  Kenwigs 
thought  it  expedient  to  motion  to  Nicholas  not  to  say  anything  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  Miss  Petowker  had  practised  several 
blandishments,  to  soften  the  excellent  old  gentleman,  that  he 
deigned  to  break  silence,  by  asking, 

"  What's  the  water  in  French,  sir  ?  " 

*'  L'Eaii,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Ah  !  "  saicl  Mr.  Lillyvick,  shaking  his  head  mournfully, 
"  I  thought  as  much.  Lo,  eh  ?  I  don't  think  anything  of  that 
language — nothing  at  all." 

"  I  suppose  the  children  may  begin,  uncle  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Kenwigs. 

"  Oh  yes  ;  they  may  begin,  my  dear,"  replied  the  collector, 
discontentedly,     "/have  no  wish  to  prevent  them." 

This  permission  being  conceded,  the  four  Miss  Kenwigses 
sat  in  a  row  with  their  tails  all  one  way,  and  Morleena  at  the 
top :  while  Nicholas,  taking  the  book,  began  his  preliminary 
explanations.  Miss  Petowker  and  Mrs.  Kenwigs  looked  on,  in 
silent  admiration,  broken  only  by  the  whispered  assurances  of 
the  latter,  that  Morleena  would  have  it  all  by  heart  in  no  time  ; 
and  Mr.  Lillyvick  regarded  the  group  with  frowning  and  atten- 
tive eyes,  lying  in  wait  for  something  upon  which  he  could 
open  a  fresh  discussion  on  the  language. 


2o8  mCHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FOLLOWS    THE    FORTUNES    OF    MISS    NICKLEBY. 

It  was  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  many  sad  forebodings  which 
no  effort  could  banish,  that  Kate  Nickleby,  on  the  morning 
appointed  for  the  commencement  of  her  engagement  with 
Madame  MantaUni,  left  the  city  when  its  clocks  yet  wanted  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  of  eight,  and  threaded  her  way  alone,  amid 
the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  streets,  towards  the  west  end  of 
London. 

At  this  early  hour  many  sickly  girls,  whose  business,  like 
that  of  the  poor  worm,  is  to  produce,  with  patient  toil,  the 
finery  that  bedecks  the  thoughtless  and  luxurious,  traverse  our 
sTfeets,  making  towards  the  scene  of  their  daily  labor,  and 
catching,  as  if  by  stealth,  in  their  hurried  walk,  the  only  gasp 
of  wholesome  air  and  glimpse  of  sunlight  which  cheers  their 
rnohotonous  existence  during  the  long  train  of  hours  that 
make  a  working  day.  As  she  drew  nigh  to  the  more  fashion- 
able quarter  of  the  town,  Kate  marked  many  of  this  class  as 
they  passed  by,  hurrying  like  herself  to  their  painful  occupa- 
tion, and  saw,  in  their  unhealthy  looks  and  feeble  gait,  but  too 
clear  an  evidence  that  her  misgivings  were  not  wholly  ground- 
less. . 

She  arrived  at  Madame  Mantalini's  some  minutes  before 
the  appointed  hour,  and  after  walking  a  few  times  up  and 
down,  in  the  hope  that  some  other  female  might  arrive  and 
spare  her  embarrassment  of  stating  her  business  to  the  servant, 
knocked  timidly  at  the  door  :  which,  after  some  delay,  was 
opened  by  the  footman,  who  had  been  putting  on  his  striped 
jacket  as  he  came  up  stairs,  and  was  now  intent  on  fastening 
his  apron. 

"  Is  Madame  Mantalini  in  ?  "  faltered  Kate. 

"  Not  often  out  at  this  time,  Miss,"  replied  the  man  in  a 
tone  which  rendered  '  Miss,'  something  more  offensive  than 
'  My  dear.' 

"  Can  I  see  her  ?  "  asked  Kate. 

"  Eh  ?  "  replied  the  man,  holding  the  door  in  his  hand, 
and  honoring  the  inquirer  with  a  stare  and  a  broad  grin, 
"  Lord,  no.  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  209 

"  I  came  by  her  own  appointment,  "  said  Kate  ;  "  I  am— 
I  am — to  be  employed  here." 

"  Oh  !  you  should  have  rung  the  worker's  bell,"  said  the 
footman,  touching  the  handle  of  one  in  the  door-post.  "  Let 
me  see,  though,  I  forgot — Miss  Nickleby,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Kate. 

"  You're  to  walk  up  stairs  then,  please,"  said  the  man. 
"  Madame  Mantalini  wants  to  see  you — this  way — take  care 
of  these  things  on  the  floor." 

Cautioning  her,  in  these  terms,  not  to  trip  over  a  heteroge- 
neous litter  of  pastry-cook's  trays,  lamps,  waiters  full  of  glasses, 
and  piles  of  rout  seats  which  were  strewn  about  the  hall, 
plainly  bespeaking  a  late  party  on  the  previous  night,  the  man 
led  the  way  to  the  second  story,  and  ushered  Kate  into  a  back 
room,  communicating  by  folding-doors  with  the  apartment  in 
which  she  had  first  seen  the  mistress  of  the  establishment. 

"  If  you'll  wait  here  a  minute,"  said  the  man,  "  I'll  tell  her 
presently."  Having  made  this  promise  with  much  affability, 
he  retired  and  left  Kate  alone. 

There  was  not  much  to  amuse  in  the  room  ;  of  which  the 
most  attractive  feature  was,  a  half-length  portrait  in  oil,  of 
Mr.  Mantalini,  whom  the  artist  had  depicted  scratching  his 
head  in  an  easy  manner,  and  thus  displaying  to  advantage  a 
diamond  ring,  the  gift  of  Madame  Mantalini  before  her  mar- 
riage. There  was,  however,  the  sound  of  voices  in  conversa- 
tion in  the  next  room  ;  and  as  the  conversation  was  loud  and 
the  partition  thin,  Kate  could  not  help  discovering  that  they 
belonged  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mantalini. 

"  If  you  will  be  odiously,  demnebly  outr/geously  jealous, 
my  soul,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  "j^ou  will  be  very  miserable — 
horrid  miserable — demnition  miserable."  And  then,  there 
was  a  sound  as  though  Mr.  Mantalini  were  sipping  his  coffee. 

"  I  am  miserable,"  returned  Madame  Mantalini. 

"  Then  you  are  an  ungrateful,  unworthy,  demd  unthankful 
little  fairy,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini. 

"  I  am  not,"  returned  Madame,  with  a  sob. 

"  Do  not  put  itself  out  of  humor,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini, 
breaking  an  egg.  "  It  is  a  pretty,  bewitching  little  demd 
countenance,  and  it  should  not  be  out  of  humor,  for  it  spoils 
its  loveliness,  and  makes  it  cross  and  gloomy  like  a  frightful, 
naughty,  demd  hobgoblin." 

"  I  am  not  to  be  brought  round  in  that  way,  always,"  re^ 
joined  Madame,  sulkily. 

14 


2 1  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  It  shall  be  brought  round  in  any  way  it  likes  best,  and 
not  brought  round  at  all  if  it  likes  better,"  retorted  Mr.  Man- 
talini,  with  his  egg-spoon  in  his  mouth. 

"  It's  very  easy  to  talk,"  said  Mrs.  Mantalini. 

"  Not  so  easy  when  one  is  eating  a  demnition  egg,"  re-'7 
plied  Mr.  Mantalini ;  "  for  the  yolk  runs  down  the  waistcoat,  p 
and  yolk  of  egg  does  not'  match  any  waistcoat  but  a  yellow  J 
waistcoat,  demmit." 

"  You  were  flirting  with  her  during  the  whole  night,''  said 
Madame  Mantalini,  apparently  desirous  to  lead  the  conversa- 
tion back  to  the  point  from  which  it  had  strayed. 

"  No.  no,  my  life." 

"  You  were,"  said  Madame  ;  "  I  had  my  eye  upon  you  all 
the  time." 

"  Bless  the  little  winking  twinkling  eye  ;  was  it  on  me  all 
the  time  !  "  cried  Mantalini,  in  a  sort  of  lazy  rapture.  "Oh, 
demmit !  " 

"And  I  say  once  more,"  resumed  Madame,  "that  you 
ought  not  to  waltz  with  anybody  but  your  own  wife  ;  and  I 
will  not  bear  it,  Mantalini,  if  I  take  poison  first." 

"  She  will  not  take  poison  and  have  horried  pains,  will 
she  ?  "  said  Mantalini  ;  who,  by  the  altered  sound  of  his  voice, 
seemed  to  have  moved  his  chair,  and  taken  up  his  position 
nearer  to  his  wife.  "  She  will  not  take  poison,  because  she 
had  a  demd  fine  husband  who  might  have  married  two  count- 
esses and  a  dowager " 


"Two  countesses,"  interposed  Madame.  "You  told  me 
one  before  !  " 

"Two  !"  cried  Mantalini.  "Two  demd  fine  women,  real 
countesses  and  splendid  fortunes,  demmit." 

"  And  why  didn't  you  ?  "  asked  Madame,  playfully. 

"  Why  didn't  I  !  "  replied  her  husband.  "  Had  I  not  seen, 
at  a  morning  concert,  the  demdest  little  fascinator  in  all  the 
world,  and  while  that  little  fascinator  is  my  wife,  may  not  all 
the  countesses  and  dowagers  in  England  be " 

Mr.  Mantalini  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  he  gave 
Madame  Mantalini  a  very  loud  kiss,  which  Madame  Man- 
talini returned  ;  after  which,  there  seemed  to  be  some  more 
kissing  mixed  up  with  the  progress  of  the  breakfast. 

"  And  what  about  the  cash,  my  existence's  jewel  ?  "  said 
Mantalini,  when  these  endearments  ceased.  "  How  much 
have  we  in  hand  ?  " 

"Very  little  indeed,"  replied  Madame. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  2 1 1 

"We  must  have  some  more,"  said  Mantalini ;  "we  must 
have  some  discount  out  of  old  Nickleby  to  carry  on  the  war 
with,  demmit." 

"You  can't  want  any  more  just  now,"  said  Madame  coax- 
ingly. 

"  My  life  and  soul,"  returned  her  husband,  "  there  is  a 
horse  for  sale  at  Scrubbs's,  which  it  would  be  a  sin  and  a 
crime  to  lose — going,  my  senses'  joy,  for  nothing." 

"  For  nothing,"  cried  Madame,  "  I  am  glad  of  that." 

"  For  actually  nothing,"  replied  Mantalini.  "  A  hundred 
guineas  down  will  buy  him  ;  mane,  and  crest,  and  legs,  and 
tail,  all  of  the  demdest  beauty.  I  will  ride  him  in  the  park 
before  the  very  chariots  of  the  rejected  countesses.  The 
demd  old  dowager  will  faint  with  grief  and  rage  ;  the  other 
two  will  say  '  He  is  married,  he  has  made  away  with  himself, 
it  is  a  demd  thing,  it  is  all  up  !  '  They  will  hate  each  other 
demnebly,  and  wish  you  dead  and  buried.  Ha  !  ha !  Dem- 
mit." 

Madame  Mantalini's  prudence,  if  she  had  any,  was  not 
proof  against  these  triumphal  pictures  ;  after  a  little  jingling 
of  keys,  she  observed  that  she  would  see  what  her  desk  con- 
tained, and  rising  for  that  purpose,  opened  the  folding-door, 
and  walked  into  the  room  where  Kate  was  seated. 

"  Dear  me,  child  !  "  exclaimed  Madame  Mantalini,  recoil- 
ing in  surprise.     "  How  came  you  here  ?  " 

"Child!"  cried  Mantalini,  hurrying  in,  "How  came — 
eh  ! — oh — demmit ;   how  d'ye  do  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  waiting  here  some  time,  ma'am,"  said  Kate, 
addressing  Madame  Mantalini.  "  The  servant  must  have 
forgotten  to  let  you  know  that  I  was  here,  I  think." 

"  You  really  must  see  to  that  man,"  said  Madame,  turning 
to  her  husband.     "  He  forgets  evervthing." 

"  I  will  twist  his  demd  nose  off  his  countenance  for  leav- 
ing such  a  very  pretty  creature  all  alone  by  herself,"  said  her 
husband. 

"  Mantalini,"  cried  Madame,  "you  forget  yourself." 

"  I  don't  forget  jou,  my  soul,  and  never  shall,  and  never 
can,"  said  Mantalini,  kissing  his  wife's  hand,  and  grimacing 
aside,  to  Miss  Nickleby,  who  turned  away. 

Appeased  by  this  compliment,  the  lady  of  the  business 
took  some  papers  from  her  desk  which  she  handed  over  to 
Mr.  Mantalini,  who  received  them  with  great  delight.  She 
then  requested  Kate  to  follow  her,  and  after  several  feints  on 


2 1 2  NIC  110  L  A  S  NICKLEB  Y. 

the  part  of  Mr.  Mantalini  to  attract  the  young  lady's  atten- 
tion, they  went  away :  leaving  that  gentleman  extended  at 
full  length  on  the  sofa,  with  his  heels  in  the  air  and  a  news- 
paper in  his  hand. 

Madame  Mantalini  led  the  way  down  a  flight  of  stairs,  and 
through  a  passage,  to  a  large  room  at  the  back  of  the  prem- 
ises where  were  a  number  of  young  women  employed  in  sew- 
ing, cutting  out,  making  up,  altering,  and  various  other  pro- 
cesses known  only  to  those  who  are  cunning  in  the  arts  of 
millinery  and  dress-making.  It  was  a  close  room  with  a  sky- 
light, and  as  dull  and  quiet  as  a  room  need  be. 

On  Madame  Mantalini  calling  aloud  for  INIiss  Knag,  a 
short,  bustling,  over-dressed  female,  full  of  importance,  pre- 
sented herself,  and  all  the  young  ladies  suspending  their  op- 
erations for  the  moment,  whispered  to  each  other  sundry  criti- 
cisms upon  the  make  and  texture  of  Miss  Nickleby's  dress, 
her  complexion,  cast  of  features,  and  personal  appearance, 
with  as  much  good-breeding  as  could  have  been  displayed  by 
the  very  best  society  in  a  crowded  ball-room. 

"Oh,  Miss  Knag,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  "this  is  the 
young  person  I  spoke  to  you  about." 

Miss  Knag  bestowed  a  reverential  smile  upon  Madame 
Mantalini,  which  she  dexterously  transformed  into  a  gracious 
one  for  Kate,  and  said  that  certainly,  although  it  was  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  to  have  young  people  who  were  wholly  unused 
to  the  business,  still,  she  was  sure  the  young  person  would 
try  to  do  her  best — impressed  with  which  conviction  she  (Miss 
Knag)  felt  an  interest  in  her,  already. 

"  I  think  that,  for  the  present  at  all  events,  it  will  be  better 
for  Miss  Nickleby  to  come  into  the  show-room  with  you,  and 
try  things  on  for  people,"  said  Madame  Mantalini.  "  She  will 
not  be  able  for  the  present  to  be  of  much  use  in  any  other 
way  ;  and  her  appearance  will " 

"  Suit  very  well  with  mine,  Madame  Mantalini,"  inter- 
rupted Miss  Knag.  "  So  it  will ;  and  to  be  sure  I  might  have 
known  that  you  would  not  be  long  in  finding  that  out ;  for  you 
have  so  much  taste  in  all  those  matters,  that  really,  as  I  often 
say,  to  the  young  ladies,  I  do  not  know  how,  when,  or  where, 
you  possibly  could  have  acquired  all  you  know — hem — Miss 
Nickleby  and  I  are  quite  a  pair,  Madame  Mantalini,  only  I 
am  a  liule  darker  than  Miss  Nickleby,  and — hem — I  think 
my  foot  may  be  a  little  smaller.  Miss  Nickleby,  I  am  sure, 
will  not  be  offended  at  my  saying  that,  when  she  hears  that 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


213 


our  family  always  have  been  celebrated  for  small  feet  ever 
since — hem — ever  since  our  family  had  any  feet  at  all,  indeed, 
I  think.  I  had  an  uncle  once,  Madame  Mantalini,  who  lived 
in  Cheltenham,  and  had  a  most  excellent  business  as  a  tobac- 
conist— hem — who  had  such  small  feet,  that  they  were  no 
bigger  than  those  which  are  usually  joined  to  wooden  legs — 
the  most  symmetrical  feet,  Madame  Mantalini,  that  even  you 


can  imagnie." 


They  must  have  had  something  the  appearance  of  club 
feet,  Miss  Knag,"  said  Madame. 

"Well  now,  that  is  so  like  you,"  returned  Miss  Knag. 
"  Ha !  ha  !  ha  !  Of  club  feet  !  Oh  very  good  !  As  I  often 
remark  to  the  young  ladies,  '  Well  I  must  say,  and  I  do  not 
care  who  knows  it,  of  all  the  ready  humor — hem — I  ever  heard 
anywhere  ' — and  I  have  heard  a  good  deal ;  for  when  my  dear 
brother  was  alive  (I  kept  house  for  him.  Miss  Nickleby),  we 
had  to  supper  once  a  week  two  or  three  young  men,  highly 
celebrated  in  those  days  for  their  humor,  Madame  Mantalini 
— '  Of  all  the  ready  humor,'  I  say  to  the  young  ladies,  '  /ever 
heard,  Madame  Mantalini's  is  the  most  remarkable — hem.  It 
is  so  gentle,  so  sarcastic,  and  yet  so  good-natured  (as  I  was 
observing  to  Miss  Simmonds  only  this  morning),  that  how,  or 
when,  or  by  what  means  she  acquired  it,  is  to  me  a  mystery 
indeed. '  " 

Here  Miss  Knag  paused  to  take  breath,  and  while  she 
pauses  it  may  be  observed — not  that  she  was  marvellously 
loquacious  and  marvellously  deferential  to  Madame  Mantalini, 
since  these  are  facts  which  require  no  comment ;  but  that 
every  now  and  then,  she  was  accustomed,  in  the  torrent  of  her 
discourse,  to  introduce  a  loud,  shrill,  clear,  "  hem  !  "  the  im- 
port and  meaning  of  which,  was  variously  interpreted  by  her 
acquaintance  ;  some  holding  that  Miss  Knag  dealt  in  exagger- 
ation, and  introduced  the  monosyllable,  when  any  fresh  in- 
vention was  in  course  of  coinage  in  her  brain  ;  others,  that 
when  she  wanted  a  word,  she  threw  it  in  to  gain  time,  and 
prevent  anybody  else  from  striking  into  the  conversation.  It 
may  be  further  remarked,  that  Miss  Knag  still  aimed  at  youth, 
although  she  had  shot  beyond  it,  years  ago  ;  and  that  she  was 
weak  and  vain,  and  one  of  those  people  who  are  best  described 
by  the  axiom,  that  you  may  trust  them  as  far  as  you  can  see 
them,  and  no  farther. 

"  You'll  take  care  that  Miss  Nickleby  understands  her 
hours,  and  so  forth,"  said  Madame  Mantalini;  "and  so  I'll 


14 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


leave  her  with  you.  You'll  not  forget  my  directions,  Miss 
Knag  ?  " 

Miss  Knag  of  course  replied,  that  to  forget  anything 
Madame  Mantalini  had  directed,  was  a  moral  impossibility  ; 
and  that  lady,  dispensing  a  general  good-morning  among  her 
assistants,  sailed  away. 

"  Charming  creature,  is'nt  she,  Miss  Nickleby  }  "  said  Miss 
Knag,  rubbing  her  hands  together. 

"  I  have  seen  very  little  of  her,"  said  Kate.  "  I  hardly 
know  yet." 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Mantalini.^  "  inquired  Miss  Knag. 

"Yes  ;  I  have  seen  him  twice." 

"  Isn't  hez.  charming  creature  ?  " 

"  Indeed  he  does  not  strike  me  as  being  so,  by  any  means," 
replied  Kate. 

"  No,  my  dear !  "  cried  Miss  Knag,  elevating  her  hands. 
"  Why,  goodness  gracious  mercy,  where's  your  taste  }  Such 
a  fine  tall,  full-whiskered  dashing  gentlemanly  man,  with  such 
teeth  and  hair,  and — hem — well  now,  you  do  astonish  me." 

"I  dare  say  I  am  very  foolish,"  replied  Kate,  laying  aside 
her  bonnet ;  "  but  as  my  opinion  is  of  very  little  importance 
to  him  or  any  one  else,  I  do  not  regret  having  formed  it,  and 
shall  be  slow  to  change  it,  I  think." 

"  He  is  a  very  fine  man,  don't  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  one 
of  the  young  ladies. 

"  Indeed  he  may  be,  for  anything  I  could  say  to  the  con- 
trary," replied  Kate. 

"  And  drives  ver)^  beautiful  horses,  doesn't  he  ?  "  inquired 
another. 

"  I  dare  say  he  may,  but  I  never  saw  them,"  answered 
Kate. 

"  Never  saw  them  !  "  interposed  Miss  Knag.  "Oh,  well  ! 
There  it  is  at  once  you  know  ;  how  can  you  possibly  pro- 
nounce an  opinion  about  a  gentleman — hem — if  you  don't  see 
him  as  he  turns  out  altogether  ?  " 

There  was  so  much  of  the  world — even  of  the  little  world 
of  the  country  girl — in  this  idea  of  the  old  milliner,  that  Kate, 
who  was  anxious,  for  every  reason,  to  change  the  subject, 
mjde  no  further  remark,  and  left  Miss  Knag  in  possession  of 
the  field. 

After  a  short  silence,  during  which  most  of  the  young 
people  made  a  closer  inspection  of  Kate's  appearance,  and 
compared  notes  respecting  it,  one  of  them  offered  to  help  her 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  21$ 

off  with  her  shawl,  and  the  offer  being  accepted,   inquired 
whether  she  did  not  find  black  very  uncomfortable  wear. 

"I  do  indeed,"  replied  Kate,  with  a  bitter  sigh. 

"  So  dusty  and  hot,"  observed  the  same  speaker,  adjust 
ing  her  dress  for  her. 

Kate  might  have  said,  that  mourning  is  sometimes  the 
coldest  wear  which  mortals  can  assume ;  that  it  not  only 
chills  the  breasts  of  those  it  clothes,  but  extending  its  influ- 
ence to  summer  friends,  freezes  up  their  sources  of  good-will 
and  kindness,  and  withering  all  the  buds  of  promise  they  once 
so  liberally  put  forth,  leaves  nothing  but  bared  and  rotten 
hearts  exposed.  There  are  few  who  have  lost  a  friend  or  rel- 
ative constituting  in  life  their  sole  dependence,  who  have  not 
keenly  felt  this  chilling  influence  of  their  sable  garb.  She 
had  felt  it  acutely,  and  feeling  it  at  the  moment,  could  not 
quite  restrain  her  tears. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  wounded  you  by  my  thoughtless 
speech,"  said  her  companion.  "  I  did  not  think  of  it.  You 
are  in  mourning  for  some  near  relation  ? " 

"  For  my  father,"  answered  Kate. 

"  For  what  relation.  Miss  Simmonds  ?  "  asked  Miss  Knag 
in  an  audible  voice. 

"Her  father,"  replied  the  other  softly. 

"  Her  father,  eh  ?  "  said  Miss  Knag,  without  the  slightest 
depression  of  her  voice.  "  Ah !  A  long  illness,  Miss  Sim- 
monds ?  " 

"  Hush,"  replied  the  girl ;  "  I  don't  know." 

"  Our  misfortune  was  very  sudden,"  said  Kate,  turning 
away,  "  or  I  might  perhaps,  at  a  time  like  this,  be  enabled  to 
support  it  better." 

There  had  existed  not  a  little  desire  in  the  room,  accord- 
ing to  invariable  custom,  when  any  new  "  young  person " 
came,  to  know  who  Kate  was,  and  what  she  was,  and  all  about 
her  ;  but,  although  it  might  have  been  ver)^  naturally  increased 
by  her  appearance  and  emotion,  the  knowledge  that  it  pained 
her  to  be  questioned,  was  sufficient  to  repress  even  this 
curiosity ;  and  Miss  Knag,  finding  it  hopeless  to  attempt  ex- 
tracting any  further  particulars  just  then,  reluctantly  com- 
manded silence,  and  bade  the  work  proceed. 

In  silence,  then,  the  tasks  were  plied  until  half-past  one, 
when  a  baked  leg  of  mutton,  with  potatoes  to  correspond, 
were  served  in  the  kitchen.  The  meal  over,  and  the  young 
ladies  having  enjoyed  the  additional  relaxation  of  washing 


2i6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

their  hands,  the  work  began  again,  and  was  again  performed 
in  silence,  until  the  noise  of  carriages  rattling  through  the 
streets,  and  of  loud  double  knocks  at  doors,  gave  token  that 
the  day's  work  of  the  more  fortunate  members  of  society  was 

needing  in  its  turn. 

One  of  these  double  knocks  at  Madame  Mantalini's  door, 

lounced  the  equipage  of  some  great  lady — or  rather  rich 
■'One-,-^QIthere  is  occasionally  a  distinction  between  riches  and 

-who  had  come  with  her  daughter  to  approve  of 

some  court-dresses  which  had  been  a  long  time  preparing, 
and  upon  whom  Kate  was  deputed  to  wait,  accompanied  by 
Miss  Knag,  and  officered  of  course  by  Madame   Mantalini. 

Kate's  part  in  the  pageant  was  humble  enough,  her  duties 
being  limited  to  holding  articles  of  costume  until  Miss  Knag 
was  ready  to  try  them  on,  and  now  and  then  tying  a  string,  or 
fastening  a  hook-and-eye.  She  might,  not  unreasonably,  have 
supposed  herself  beneath  the  reach  of  any  arrogance,  or  bad 
humor  ;  but  it  happened  that  the  lady  and  daughter  were  both 
out  of  temper  that  day,  and  the  poor  girl  came  in  for  her 
share  of  their  revilings.  She  was  awkward — her  hands  were 
cold — dirty — coarse — she  could  do  nothing  right ;  they  won- 
dered how  Madame  Mantalini  could  have  such  people  about 
her  \  requested  that  they  might  see  some  other  young  woman 
the  next  time  they  came  ;  and  so  forth. 

So  common  an  occurrence  would  be  hardly  deserving  of 
mention,  but  for  its  effect.  Kate  shed  many  bitter  tears  when 
these  people  were  gone,  and  felt,  for  the  first  time,  humbled  by 
her  occupation.  She  had,  it  is  true,  quailed  at  the  prospect 
of  drudgery  and  hard  service  ;  but  she  had  felt  no  degradation 
in  working  for  her  bread,  until  she  found  herself  exposed  to 
insolence_jind^piLcie,  Philosophy  would  have  taught  her  that 
the"3egradation  was  on  the  side  of  those  who  had  sunk  so  low 
as  to  display  such  passions  habitually,  and  without  cause  :  but 
she  was  too  young  for  such  consolation,  and  her  honest  feel- 
ing was  hurt.  May  not  the  complaint,  that  common  people 
are  above  their  station,  often  take  its  rise  in  the  fact  of  tin- 
common  people  being  below  theirs  .' 

In  such  scenes  and  occupations  the  time  wore  on,  until 
nine  o'clock,  when  Kate,  jaded  and  dispirited  with  the  occur- 
rences of  the  day,  hastened  from  the  confinement  of  the  work- 
room, to  join  her  mother  at  the  street  corner,  and  walk  home : 
— the  more  sadly,  from  having  to  disguise  her  real  feelings, 
and  feign  to  participate  in  all  the  sanguine  visions  of  her  com- 
panion. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


217 


"  Bless  my  soul,  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby ;  "  I've  been 
thinking  all  day,  what  a  delightful  thing  it  would  be  for 
Madame  Mantalini  to  take  you  into  partnership — such  a 
likely  thing  too,  you  know  !  Why,  your  poor  dear  papa's 
cousin's  sister-in-law — a  Miss  Browndock — was  taken  into 
partnership  by  a  lady  that  kept  a  school  at  Hammersmith, 
and  made  her  fortune  in  no  time  at  all.  I  forget,  by  the  bye, 
whether  that  Miss  Browndock  was  the  same  lady  that  got  the 
ten  thousand  pounds  prize  in  the  lotter}',  but  I  think  she  was; 
indeed,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  am  sure  she  was.  '  Man- 
talini and  Nickleby,'  how  well  it  would  sound ! — and  if 
Nicholas  has  any  good  fortune,  you  might  have  Doctor 
Nickleby,  the  head-master  of  Westminster  School,  living  in 
the  same  street." 

"  Dear  Nicholas !  "  cried  Kate,  taking  from  her  reticule 
her  brother's  letter  from  Dotheboys  Hall.  ^"Iji  all  our  mis- 
fortunes, how  happy  it  makes  me,  mama,  to  hear  he  is  doing 
well,  and  to  find  him  writing  in  such  good  spirits !  It  con- 
soles me  for  all  we  may  undergo,  to  think  that  he  is  comfort- 
able and  happy3'^ 

Poor  Kate'  r  she  little  thought  how  weak  her  consolation 
was,  and  how  soon  she  would  be  undeceived. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

MISS  KNAG,  AFTER  DOATING  ON  KATE  NICKLEBY  FOR  THREE 
WHOLE  DAYS,  MAKES  UP  HER  MIND  TO  HATE  HER  FOR 
EVERMORE.  THE     CAUSES     WHICH     LEAD     MISS    KNAG    TO 

FORM    THIS    RESOLUTION. 

There  are  many  lives  of  much  pain,  hardship,  and  sufTer- 
ing,  which,  having  no  stirring  interest  for  any  but  those  who 
lead  them,  are  disregarded  by  persons  who  do  not  want 
thought  or  feeling,  but  who  pamper  their  compassion  and 
need  high  stimulants  to  rouse  it. 

There  are  not  a  few  among  the  disciples  of  charity  who 
require,  in  their  vocation,  scarcely  less  excitement  than  the 
votaries  of  pleasure  in  theirs  ;  and  hence  it  is  that  diseased 
sympathy  and  compassion  are  every  day  expended  on   out-of- 


2 1 8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

the-way  objects,  when  only  too  many  demands  upon  the  le- 
gitimate exercise  of  the  same  virtues  in  a  healthy  state,  are 
constantly  within  the  sight  and  hearing  of  the  most  unobser- 
vant person  alive.  In  short,  charity  must  have  its  romance, 
as  the  novelist  or  playwright  must  have  his.  A  thief  in  fustian 
is  a  vulgar  character,  scarcely  to  be  thought  of  by  persons  of 
refinement ;  but  dress  him  in  green  velvet,  with  a  high- 
crowned  hat,  and  change  the  scene  of  his  operations,  from  a 
thickly  peopled  city,  to  a  mountain  road,  and  you  shall  find  in 
him  the  very  soul  of  poetry  and  adventure.  So  it  is  with  the 
one  great  cardinal  virtue,  which,  properly  nourished  and  exer- 
cised, leads  to,  if  it  does  not  necessarily  include,  all  the  others. 
It  must  have  its  romance  ;  and  the  less  of  real,  hard,  struggling 
work-a-day  life  there  is  in  that  romance,  the  better. 

The  life  to  which  poor  Kate  Nickleby  was  devoted,  in 
consequence  of  the  unforeseen  train  of  circumstances  already 
developed  in  this  narrative,  was  a  hard  one  ;  but  lest  the  very 
dulness,  unhealthy  confinement,  and  bodily  fatigue,  which 
made  up  its  sum  and  substance,  should  deprive  it  of  any  in- 
terest with  the  mass  of  the  charitable  and  sympathetic,  I  would 
rather  keep  Miss  Nickleby  herself  in  view  just  now,  than  chill 
them,  in  the  outset,  by  a  minute  and  lengthened  description  of 
the  establishment  presided  over  by  Madame  Mantalini. 

"Well,  now,  indeed  Madame  Mantalini,"  said  Miss  Knag, 
as  Kate  was  taking  her  weary  way  homewards  on  the  first 
night  of  her  novitiate  ;  "  that  Miss  Nickleby  is  a  very  credit- 
able young  person— a  very  creditable  young  person  indeed — 
hem — upon  my  word,  Madame  Mantalini,  it  does  very  extra- 
ordinary credit  even  to  your  discrimination  that  you  should 
have  found  such  a  very  excellent,  very  well  behaved,  very — 
hem — very  unassuming  young  woman  to  assist  in  the  fitting 
on.  I  have  seen  some  young  women  when  they  had  the 
opportunity  of  displaying  before  their  betters,  behave  in  such 
a — oh,  dear— well — but  you're  always  right,  Madame  Manta- 
lini, always  \  and  as  I  very  often  tell  the  young  ladies,  how 
you  do  contrive  to  be  always  right,  when  so  many  people  are 
so  often  wrong,  is   to  me  a  mystery  indeed." 

"  Beyond  putting  a  very  excellent  client  out  of  humor. 
Miss  Nickleby  has  not  done  anything  very  remarkable  to-day 
— that  I  am  aware  of,  at  least,"  said  Madame  Mantalini  in 
reply. 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  said  Miss  Knag ;  "  but  you  must  allow  a 
great  deal  for  inexperience,  you  know." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  219 

"  And  youth  ?  "  inquired  Madame. 

"  Oh,  I  say  nothing  about  that,  Madame  Mantalini,"  re- 
plied Miss  Knag,  reddening  ;  "  because  if  youth  were  any  ex- 
cuse, you  wouldn't  have — " 

"  Quite  so  good  a  forewoman  as  I  have,  I  suppose,"  sug- 
gested Madame. 

"  Well,  I  never  did  know  anybody  like  you,  Madame  Man- 
talini," rejoined  Miss  Knag  most  complacently,  "and  that's 
the  fact,  for  you  know  what  one's  going  to  say,  before  it  has 
time  to  rise  to  one's  lips.     Oh,  very  good  !     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

"For  myself,"  observed  Madame  Mantalini,  glancing  with 
affected  carelessness  at  her  assistant,  and  laughing  heartily  in 
her  sleeve,  "  I  consider  Miss  Nickleby  the  most  awkward  girl 
I  ever  saw  in  my  life." 

"  Poor  dear  thing,"  said  Miss  Knag,  "  it's  not  her  fault. 
If  it  was,  we  might  hope  to  cure  it ;  but  as  it's  her  misfortune, 
Madame  Mantalini,  why  really  you  know,  as  the  man  said 
about  the  blind  horse,  we  ought  to  respect  it." 

"  Her  uncle  told  me  she  had  been  considered  pretty,"  re- 
marked Madame  Mantalini.  "  I  think  her  one  of  the  most 
ordinary  girls  I  ever  met  with." 

"  Ordinary  !  "  cried  Miss  Knag  with  a  countenance  beam- 
ing delight ;  "  and  awkward !  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  Madame 
Mantalini,  that  I  quite  love  the  poor  girl ;  and  that  if  she  was 
twice  as  indifferent-looking,  and  twice  as  awkward  as  she  is, 
I  should  be  only  so  much  the  more  her  friend,  and  that's  the 
truth  of  it." 

In  fact.  Miss  Knag  had  conceived  an  incipient  affection 
for  Kate  Nickleby,  after  witnessing  her  failure  that  morning, 
and  this  short  conversation  with  her  superior  increased  the 
favorable  prepossession  to  a  most  surprising  extent ;  which 
was  the  more  remarkable,  as  when  she  first  scanned  that 
young  lady's  face  and  figure,  she  had  entertained  certain  in- 
ward misgivings  that  tliey  would  never  agree. 

"  But  now,"  said  Miss  Knag,  glancing  at  the  reflection  of 
herself  in  a  mirror  at  no  great  distance,  *'  I  love  her — I  quite 
love  her — I  declare  I  do !  " 

Of  such  a  highly  disinterested  quality  was  this  devoted 
friendship,  and  so  superior  was  it  to  the  little  weaknesses  of 
flattery  or  ill  nature,  that  the  kind-hearted  Miss  Knag  candidly 
informed  Kate  Nickleby,  next  day,  that  she  saw  she  would 
never  do  for  the  business,  but  that  she  need  not  give  herself 
the  slightest  uneasiness  on   this  account,  for  that  she   (Miss 


2  2  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

Knag)  by  increased  exertions  on  her  own  part,  would  keep 
her  as  much  as  possible  in  the  background,  and  that  all  she 
would  have  to  do,  would  be  to  remain  perfectly  quiet  before 
company,  and  to  shrink  from  attracting  notice  by  every  means 
in  her  power.  This  last  suggestion  was  so  much  in  accord- 
ance with  the  timid  girl's  own  feelings  and  wis^hes,  that  she 
readily  promised  implicit  reliance  on  the  excellent  spinster's 
advice  :  without  questioning,  or  indeed  bestowing  a  moment's 
reflection  upon,  the  motives  that  dictated  it. 

"  I  take  quite  a  lively  interest  in  you,  my  dear  soul,  upon 
my  word,"  said  Miss  Knag  ;  "  a  sister's  interest,  actually.  It's 
the  most  singular  circumstance  I  ever  knew." 

Undoubtedly  it  was  singular,  that  if  Miss  Knag  did  feel  a 
strong  interest  in  Kate  Nickleby,  it  should  not  rather  have 
been  the  interest  of  a  maiden  aunt  or  grandmother  ;  that  be- 
ing the  conclusion  to  which  the  difference  in  their  respective 
ages  would  have  naturally  tended.  But  Miss  Knag  wore 
clothes  of  a  very  youthful  pattern,  and  perhaps  her  feelings 
took  the  same  shape. 

"  Bless  you  !  "  said  Miss  Knag,  bestowing  a  kiss  upon  Kate 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  second  day's  work,  "  how  very  awk- 
ward you  have  been  all  day." 

"  I  fear  your  kind  and  open  communication,  which  has 
rendered  me  more  painfully  conscious  of  my  own  defects,  has 
not  improved  me,"  sighed  Kate. 

"  No,  no,  I  dare  say  not,"  rejoined  Miss  Knag,  in  a  most 
uncommon  flow  of  good  humor.  "  But  how  much  better  that 
you  should  know  it  at  first,  and  so  be  able  to  go  on,  straight 
and  comfortable  !     Which  way  are  you  walking,  my  love  ? " 

"Towards  the  city,"  replied  Kate. 

"  The  city  !  "  cried  Miss  Knag,  regarding  herself  with 
great  favor  in  the  glass  as  she  tied  her  bonnet.  "  Good- 
ness gracious  me  !  now  do  you  really  live  in  the  city  ? " 

"  Is  it  so  very  unusual  for  anybody  to  live  there  ?  "  asked 
Kate,  half  smiling. 

"  I  couldn't  have  believed  it  possible  that  any  young  wo- 
man could  have  lived  there,  under  any  circumstances  what- 
ever, for  three  days  together,"  replied  Miss  Knag. 

"  Reduced — I  should  say  poor  people,"  answered  Kate, 
correcting  herself  hastily,  for  she  was  afraid  of  appearing 
proud,  "must  live  where  they  can." 

"  Ah  !  very  true,  so  they  must ;  very  proper  indeed  !  "  re- 
joined Miss  Knag  with  that  sort  of  half  sigh,  which,  accom- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  221 

panied  by  two  or  three  slight  nods  of  the  liead,  is  pity's  small 
change  in  general  society ;  "  and  that's  what  I  very  often  tell 
my  brother,  when  our  servants  go  away  ill,  one  after  another, 
and  he  thinks  the  back  kitchen's  rather  too  damp  for  'em  to 
sleep  in.  These  sort  of  people,  I  tell  him,  are  glad  to  sleep 
anywhere  !  Heaven  suits  the  back  to  the  burden.  What  a 
nice  thing  it  is  to  think  that  it  should  be  so,  isn't  it .''  " 

"Ver}^,"  replied  Kate. 

"  I'll  walk  with  you  part  of  the  w^ay,  my  clear,"  said  Miss 
Knag,  "  for  you  must  go  very  near  our  house  ;  and  as  it's  quite 
dark,  and  our  last  servant  went  to  the  hospital  a  week  ago, 
with  Saint  Anthony's  fire  in  her  face,  I  shall  be  glad  of  your 
company." 

Kate  would  willingly  have  excused  herself  from  this  flatter- 
ing companionship  ;  but  Miss  Knag  having  adjusted  her  bon- 
net to  her  entire  satisfaction,  took  her  arm  with  an  air  which 
plainly  showed  how  much  she  felt  the  compliment  she  was 
conferring,  and  they  were  in  the  street  before  she  could  say 
another  word. 

"  I  fear,"  said  Kate,  hesitating,  "that  mamma — my  mother, 
I  mean — is  waiting  for  me." 

"  You  needn't  make  the  least  apology,  my  dear,"  said  Miss 
Knag,  smiling  sweetly  as  she  spoke  ;  "  I  dare  say  she  is  a  very 
respectable  old  person,  and  I  shall  be  quite — hem — quite 
pleased  to  know  her." 

As  poor  Mrs.  Nickleby  was  cooling — not  her  heels  alone, 
but  her  limbs  generally  at  the  street  corner,  Kate  had  no 
alternative  but  to  make  her  known  to  Miss  Knag,  who,  doing 
the  last  new  carriage  customer  at  second-hand,  acknowledsed 
the  introduction  with  condescending  politeness.  The  three 
then  walked  away,  arm  in  arm  :  with  Miss  Knag  in  the  middle, 
in  a  special  state  of  amiability. 

"  I  have  taken  such  a  fancy  to  your  daughter,  Mrs.  Nickle- 
by, 3'ou  can't  think,"  said  Miss  Knag,  after  she  hadproceeded 
a  little  distance  in  dignified  silence. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  ;  "  though 
it  is  nothing  new  to  me,  that  even  strangers  should  like  Kate." 

"  Hem  !  "  cried  Miss  Knag. 

"  You  will  like  her  better  when  you  know  how  good  she 
is,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  It  is  a  great  blessing  to  me,  in  my 
misfortunes,  to  have  a  child,  who  knows  neither  pride  nor 
vanity,  and  whose  bringing-up  might  very  well  have  excused 
a  little  of  both  at  first.  You  don't  know  w^hat  it  is  to  lose  a 
husband,  Miss  Knag." 


22  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

As  Miss  Knag  had  never  yet  known  what  it  was  to  gain 
one,  it  followed,  very  nearly  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  she 
didn't  know  what  it  was  to  lose  one  ;  so  she  said,  in  some 
haste,  "  No,  indeed  I  don't,"  and  said  it  with  an  air  intending 
to  signify  that  she  should  like  to  catch  herself  marrying  any- 
body— no  no,  she  knew  better  than  that. 

"  Kate  has  improved  even  in  this  little  time,  I  have  no 
doubt,"  said  Mxs.  Nickleby,  glancing  proudly  at  her  daughter. 

"  Oh  !  of  course,"  said  Miss  Knag. 

"  And  will  improve  still  more,"  added  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"That  she  will,  I'll  be  bound,"  replied  Miss  Knag,  squeez- 
ing Kate's  arm  in  her  own,  to  point  the  joke. 

"  She  always  was  clever,"  said  poor  Mrs.  Nickleby,  bright- 
ening up,  "  always,  from  a  baby.  I  recollect  when  she  was 
only  two  years  and  a  half  old,  that  a  gentleman  who  used  to 
visit  very  much  at  our  house — Mr.  Watkins,  you  know,  Kate, 
my  dear,  that  your  poor  papa  went  bail  for,  who  afterwards 
ran  away  to  the  United  States,  and  sent  us  a  pair  of  snow 
shoes,  with  such  an  affectionate  letter  that  it  made  your  poor 
dear  father  cry  for  a  week.  You  remember  the  letter .?  In 
which  he  said  that  he  was  very  sorry  he  couldn't  repay  the 
fifty  pounds  just  then,  because  his  capital  was  all  out  at  in- 
terest, and  he  was  very  busy  making  his  fortune,  but  that  he 
didn't  forget  you  were  his  god-daughter,  and  he  should  take 
it  very  unkind  if  we  didn't  buy  you  a  silver  coral  and  put  it 
down  to  his  old  account  ?  Dear  me,  yes,  my  dear,  how  stupid 
you  are !  and  spoke  so  affectionately  of  the  old  port  wine  that 
he  used  to  drink  a  bottle  and  a  half  of  every  time  he  came. 
You  must  remember,  Kate  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  mama  ;  what  of  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  that  Mr.  Watkins,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby 
slowly,  as  if  she  were  making  a  tremendous  effort  to  recollect 
something  of  paramount  importance  ;  "  that  Mr.  Watkins — he 
wasn't  any  relation,  Miss  Knag  will  understand,  to  the  Wat- 
kins who  kept  the  Old  Boar  in  the  village  ;  by  the  bye,  I  don't 
remember  whether  it  was  the  Old  Boar  or  the  George  the 
Third,  but  it  was  one  of  the  two,  I  know,  and  it's  much  the  same 
— that  Mr.  Watkins  said,  when  you  were  only  two  years  and  a 
half  old,  that  you  were  one  of  the  most  astonishing  cliildren 
he  ever  saw.  He  did  indeed.  Miss  Knag,  and  he  wasn't  at  all 
fond  of  children,  and  couldn't  have  had  the  slightest  moti\-e 
for  doing  it.  1  know  it  was  he  who  said  so,  because  I  recol- 
lect, as  well  as  if  it  was  only  yesterday,  his  borrowing  twenty 
pounds  of  her  poor  dear  papa  the  very  moment  afterwards." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


223 


Having  quoted  this  extraordinary  and  most  disinterested 
testimony  to  her  daughter's  excellence,  Mrs.  Nickleby  stopped 
to  breathe  ;  and  Miss  Knag,  finding  that  the  discourse  was 
turning  upon  family  greatness,  lost  no  time  in  striking  in,  with 
a  small  reminiscence  on  her  own  account. 

"  Don't  talk  of  lending  money,  Mrs.  Nickleby,"  said  Miss 
Knag,  "  or  you'll  drive  me  crazy,  perfectly  crazy.  My  mama 
— hem — was  the  most  lovely  and  beautiful  creature,  with  the 
most  striking  and  exquisite — hem — the  most  exquisite  nose 
that  ever  was  put  upon  a  human  face,  I  do  believe,  Mrs. 
Nickleby  (here  Miss  Knag  rubbed  her  own  nose  sympathetic- 
ally) ;  the  most  delightful  and  accomplished  woman,  perhaps, 
that  ever  was  seen  ;  but  she  had  that  one  failing  of  lending 
money,  and  carried  it  to  such  an  extent  that  she  lent — hem — 
oh  !  thousands  of  pounds,  all  our  little  fortunes,  and  what's 
more,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  I  don't  think,  if  we  were  to  live  till — 
till — hem — till  the  very  end  of  time,  that  we  should  ever  get 
them  back  again.     I  don't  indeed." 

After  concluding  this  effort  of  invention  without  being 
interrupted.  Miss  Knag  fell  into  many  more  recollections,  no 
less  interesting  than  true,  the  full  tide  of  which,  Mrs.  Nick- 
leby in  vain  attempting  to  stem,  at  length  sailed  smoothly 
down,  by  adding  an  under-current  of  her  own  recollections ; 
and  so  both  ladies  went  on  talking  together  in  perfect  con- 
tentment ;  the  only  difference  between  them,  being,  that 
whereas  Miss  Knag  addressed  herself  to  Kate,  and  talked 
very  loud,  Mrs.  Nickleby  kept  on  in  one  unbroken  monoton- 
ous flow,  perfectly  satisfied  to  be  talking,  and  caring  very 
little  whether  anybody  listened  or  not. 

In  this  manner  they  walked  on,  very  amicably,  until  they 
arrived  at  Miss  Knag's  brother's,  who  was  an  ornamental 
stationer  and  small  circulating  librar}'  keeper  in  a  by-street 
off  Tottenham  Court  Road ;  and  who  let  out  by  the  day, 
week,  month,  or  year,  the  newest  old  novels,  whereof  the  titles 
were  displayed  in  pen-and-ink  characters  on  a  sheet  of  paste- 
board, swinging  at  his  door-post.  As  Miss  Knag  happened 
at  tlie  moment,  to  be  in  the  middle  of  an  account  of  her 
twenty-second  offer  from  a  gentleman  of  large  property,  she 
insisted  upon  their  all  going  in  to  supper  together ;  and  in 
they  went. 

"  Don't  go  away,  Mortimer,"  said  Miss  Knag  as  they 
entered  the  shop.  "  It's  only  one  of  our  young  ladies  and 
her  mother.     Mrs.  and  Miss  Nickleby." 


224  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY- 

"Oh,  indeed!"  said  Mr.  Mortimer  Knag.     "Ah  !" 

Having  given  utterance  to  these  ejaculations,  with  a  very 
profound  and  thoughtful  air,  Mr.  Knag  slowly  snuffed  two 
kitchen  candles  on  the  counter,  and  two  more  in  the  window, 
and  then  snuffed  himself  from  a  box  in  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

There  was  something  very  impressive  in  the  ghostly  air 
with  which  all  this  was  done  ;  and  as  Mr.  Knag  was  a  tall 
lank  gentleman  of  solemn  features,  wearing  spectacles,  and 
garnished  with  much  less  hair  than  a  gentleman  bordering  on 
forty,  or  thereabouts,  usually  boasts,  Mrs.  Nickleby  whispered 
her  daughter  that  she  thought  he  must  be  literary. 

"Past  ten,"  said  Mr.  Knag,  consulting  his  watch. 
"  Thomas,  close  the  warehouse." 

Thomas  was  a  boy  nearly  half  as  tall  as  a  shutter,  and  the 
warehouse  was  a  shop  about  the  size  of  three  hackney  coaches. 

"  Ah  1  "  said  Mr.  Knag  once  more,  heaving  a  deep  sigh  as 
he  restored  to  its  parent  shelf  the  book  he  had  been  reading. 
"  Well — yes — I  believe  supper  is  ready,  sister." 

With  another  sigh  Mr.  Knag  took  up  the  kitchen  candles 
from  the  counter,  and  preceded  the  ladies  with  mournful 
steps  to  a  back  parlor,  where  a  charwoman,  employed  in  the 
absence  of  the  sick  servant,  and  remunerated  with  certain 
eighteenpences  to  be  deducted  from  her  wages  due,  was  put- 
ting the  supper  out. 

"  Mrs.  Blockson,"  said  Miss  Knag,  reproachfully,  "  how 
very  often  I  have  begged  you  not  to  come  Vito  the  room  with 
your  bonnet  on  !  " 

"I  can't  help  it.  Miss  Knag,"  said  the  char-woman,  brid- 
ling up  on  the  shortest  notice.  "  There's  been  a  deal  o'  clean- 
ing to  do  in  this  house,  and  if  you  don't  like  it,  I  must  trouble 
you  to  look  out  for  somebody  else,  for  it  don't  hardly  pay  me, 
and  that's  the  truth,  if  I  was  to  be  hung  this  minute." 

"  I  don't  want  any  remarks  if  you  please,"  said  Miss 
Knag,  with  a  strong  emphasis  on  the  personal  pronoun.  "  Is 
there  any  fire  down  stairs  for  some  hot  water  presently?  " 

"  No  there  is  not,  indeed.  Miss  Knag,"  replied  the  sub- 
stitute ;  "  and  so  I  won't  tell  you  no  stories  about  it." 

"Then  why  isn't  there?  "  said  Miss  Knag. 

"  Because  there  an't  no  coals  left  out,  and  if  I  could  make 
coals  I  would,  but  as  I  can't  I  won't,  and  so  I  make  bold  to 
tell  you,  Mem,"  replied  Mrs.  Blockson. 

"  Will  you  hold  your  tongue — female  ? "  said  Mr.  Morti- 
mer Knag,  plunging  violently  into  this  dialogue. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  225 

"By  your  leave,  Mr.  Knag,"  retorted  the  char-woman, 
turning  sharp  round.  "I'm  only  too  glad  not  to  ^pjak  in 
this  house,  excepting  when  and  where  I'm  spoke  to,  sir  ;  and 
with  regard  to  being  a  female,  sir,  I  should  wish  to  know  what 
you  considered  yourself.''  " 

"  A  miserable  wretch,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Knag,  striking  his 
forehead.     "  A  miserable  wretch." 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  find  that  you  don't  call  yourself  out  of 
your  name,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Blockson  ;  "  and  as  I  had  two  twin 
children  the  day  before  yesterday  was  only  seven  weeks,  and 
my  little  Charley  fell  down  a  air}-  and  put  his  elber  out,  last 
Monday,  I  shall  take  it  as  a  favior  if  you'll  send  nine  shil- 
lings, for  one  week's  work,  to  my  house,  afore  the  clock 
strikes  ten  to-morrow." 

With  these  parting  words,  the  good  woman  quitted  the 
room  with  great  ease  of  manner,  leaving  the  door  wide  open  ; 
Mr.  Knag,  at  the  same  moment,  flung  himself  into  the  "  ware- 
house," and  groaned  aloud. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  that  gentleman,  pray  ?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Nickleby,  greatly  disturbed  by  the  sound. 

"  Is  he  ill  ?  "  inquired  Kate,  really  alarmed. 

"  Hush  !  "  replied  Miss  Knag  ;  "  a  most  melancholy  his- 
tory. He  was  once  most  devotedly  attached  to — hem — to 
Madame  Mantalini." 

"  Bless  me  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Miss  Knag,  "  and  received  great  en- 
couragement too,  and  confidently  hoped  to  marry  her.  He 
has  a  most  romantic  heart,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  as  indeed — hem — 
as  indeed  all  our  family  have,  and  the  disappointment  was  a 
dreadful  blow.  He  is  a  wonderfully  accomplished  man — most 
extraordinarily  accomplished — reads — hem — reads  ever}'  novel 
that  comes  out  ;  I  mean  ever)'  novel  that — hem — that  has  any 
fashion  in  it,  of  course.  The  fact  is,  that  he  did  find  so  much 
in  the  books  he  read,  applicable  to  his  own  misfortunes,  and 
did  find  himself  in  every  respect  so  much  like  the  heroes — 
because  of  course  he  is  conscious  of  his  own  superiority,  as 
we  all  are,  and  very  naturally — that  he  took  to  scorning  every- 
thing, and  became  a  genius  ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  is, 
at  this  very  present  moment,  writing  another  book." 

"  Another  book  !  "  repeated  Kate,  finding  that  a  pause 
was  left  for  somebody  to  say  something. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Knag,  nodding  in  great  triumph  ;  "  an- 
other book,  in  three  volumes  post  octavo.     Of  course  it's  a 

IS 


226  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

great  advantage  to  him,  in  all  his  little  fashionable  descrip- 
tions, to  have  the  benefit  of  my — hem — of  my  experience, 
because,  of  course,  few  authors  who  write  about  such  things 
can  have  such  opportunities  of  knowing  them  as  I  have.  He's 
so  wrapped  up  in  high  life,  that  the  least  allusion  to  business 
or  worldly  matters — like  that  woman  just  now,  for  instance — 
quite  distracts  him  ;  but,  as  I  often  say,  I  think  his  disappoint- 
ment a  great  thing  for  him,  because  if  he  hadn't  been  dis- 
appointed he  couldn't  have  written  about  blighted  hopes  and 
all  that  ;  and  the  fact  is,  if  it  hadn't  happened  as  it  has,  I 
don't  believe  his  genius  would  ever  have  come  out  at  all." 

How  much  more  communicative  Miss  Knag  might  have 
become  under  more  favorable  circumstances,  it  is  impossible 
to  divine,  but  as  the  gloomy  one  was  within  ear-shot,  and  the 
fire  wanted  making  up,  her  disclosures  stopped  here.  To 
judge  from  all  appearances,  and  the  difficulty  of  making  the 
water  warm,  the  last  servant  could  not  have  been  much  accus- 
tomed to  any  other  fire  than  St.  Anthony's  ;  but  a  little  brandy 
and  water  was  made  at  last,  and  the  guests,  having  been  pre- 
viously regaled  with  cold  leg  of  mutton  and  bread  and  cheese, 
soon  afterwards  took  leave  ;  Kate  amusing  herself,  all  the 
way  home,  with  the  recollection  of  her  last  glimpse  of  Mr. 
Mortimer  Knag  deeply  abstracted  in  the  shop ;  and  Mrs. 
Nickleby  by  debating  within  herself  whether  the  dress-making 
firm  would  ultimately  become  "  Mantalini,  Knag,  and  Nickle- 
by," or  "  Mantalini,  Nickleby,  and  Knag." 

As  this  high  point.  Miss  Knag's  friendship  remained,  for 
three  whole  days,  much  to  the  wonderment  of  Madame  Man- 
talini's  young  ladies,  who  had  never  beheld  such  constancy  in 
that  quarter  before ;  but  on  the  fourth,  it  received  a  check  no 
less  violeat  than  sudden,  which  thus  occurred. 

It  happened  that  an  old  lord  of  great  family,  who  was 
going  to  marry  a  young  lady  of  no  family  in  particular,  came 
with  the  young  lady,  and  the  young  lady's  sister,  to  witness 
the  ceremony  of  trying  on  two  nuptial  bonnets  which  had 
been  ordered  the  day  before,  and  Madame  Mantalini  announc- 
ing the  fact,  in  a  shrill  treble,  through  the  speaking-pipe, 
which  communicated  with  the  work-room.  Miss  Knag  darted 
hastily  up  stairs  with  a  bonnet  in  each  hand,  and  presented 
herself  in  the  show-room,  in  a  charming  state  of  palpitation, 
intended  to  demonstrate  her  enthusiasm  in  the  cause.  The 
bonnets  were  no  sooner  fairly  on,  than  Miss  Knag  and 
Madame  Mantalini  fell  into  convulsions  of  admiration. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  227 

'•A  most  elegant  appearance,"  said  Madame  Mantalini. 

"  I  never  saw  anything  so  exquisite  in  all  my  life,"  said 
Miss  Knag. 

Now,  the  old  lord,  who  was  a  very  old  lord,  said  nothing, 
but  mumbled  and  chuckled  in  a  state  of  great  delight,  no  less 
with  the  nuptial  bonnets  and  their  wearers,  than  with  his  own 
address  in  getting  such  a  fine  woman  for  his  wife  ;  and  the 
young  lady,  who  was  a  very  lively  young  lady,  seeing  the  old 
lord  in  this  rapturous  condition,  chased  the  old  lord  behind  a 
cheval-glass,  and  then  and  there  kissed  him,  while  Madame 
Mantalini  and  the  other  young  lady  looked,  discreetly,  another 
way. 

But,  pending  the  salutation.  Miss  Knag,  who  was  tinged 
with  curiosity,  stepped  accidentally  behind  the  glass^  and  en- 
countered the  lively  young  lady's  eye  just  at  the  ver}'  moment 
when  she  kissed  the  old  lord  ;  upon  which  the  young  lady,  in 
a  pouting  manner,  murmured  something  about  "  an  old  thing," 
and  ''great  impertinence,"  and  finished  by  darting  a  look  of 
displeasure  at  Miss  Knag,  and  smiling  contemptuously. 

"Madame  Mantalini,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  Ma'am,"  said  Madame  Mantalini. 

"  Pray  have  up  that  pretty  young  creature  we  saw  yester- 
day." 

"Oh  yes,  do,"  said  the  sister. 

"  Of  all  things  in  the  world,  Madame  Mantalini,"  said  the 
lord's  intended,  throwing  herself  languidly  on  a  sofa,  "  I  hate 
being  waited  upon  by  frights  or  elderly  persons.  Let  me 
always  see  that  young  creature,  I  beg,  whenever  I  come." 

"By  all  means,"  said  the  old  lord;  "the  lovely  young 
creature,  by  all  means." 

"  Everybody  is  talking  about  her,"  said  the  young  lady,  in 
the  same  careless  manner ;  "  and  my  lord,  being  a  great 
admirer  of  beauty,  must  positively  see  her." 

"  She  is  universally  admired,"  replied  Madame  Mantalini. 
"  Miss  Knag,  send  up  Miss  Nickleby.     You  needn't  return." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Madame  Mantalini,  what  did  you 
^ay^ast  ? "  asked  Miss  Knag,  trembling.  ^^ 

"You  needn't  return,"  repeated  the  superior,  sharply. 
Miss  Knag  vanished  without  another  word,  and  in  all  reason- 
able time  was  replaced  by  Kate,  who  took  off  the  new  bonnets 
and  put  on  the  old  ones :  blushing  very  much  to  find  that 
the  old  lord  and  the  two  young  ladies  were  staring  her  out  o^ 
countenance  all  the  time. 


2  28  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  Why,  how  you  color,  child  !  "  said  the  lord's  chosen 
bride. 

"  She  is  not  quite  so  accustomed  to  her  business,  as  she 
will  be  in  a  week  or  two,"  interposed  Madame  Mantalini  with 
a  gracious  smile. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  giving  her  some  of  your  wicked 
looks,  my  lord,"  said  the  intended. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  replied  the  old  lord,  "  no,  no,  I'm  going  to 
be  married,  and  lead  a  new  life.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  a  new  life,  a 
new  life  !  ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

It  was  a  satisfactory  thing  to  hear  that  the  old  gentleman 
was  going  to  lead  a  new  life,  for  it  was  pretty  evident  that  his 
old  one  would  not  last  him  much  longer.  Thb  mere  exertion 
of  protracted  chuckling  reduced  him  to  a  fearful  ebb  of  cough- 
ing and  gasping ;  it  was  some  minutes  before  he  could  find 
breath  to  remark  that  the  girl  was  too  prett)-  for  a  milliner. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  good  looks  a  disqualification  for 
the  business,  my  lord,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  simpering. 

"  Not  by  any  means,"  replied  the  old  lord,  "  or  you  would 
have  left  it  long  ago.  " 

"You  naughty  creature,"  said  the  lively  lady,  poking  the 
peer  with  her  parasol  ;  "  I  won't  have  you  talk  so.  How 
dare  you  .''  " 

This  playful  inquiry  was  accompanied  with  another  poke, 
and  another,  and  then  the  old  lord  caught  the  parasol,  and 
wouldn't  give  it  up  again,  which  induced  the  other  lady  to 
come  to  the  rescue,  and  some  very  pretty  sportiveness  ensued. 

"  You  will  see  that  those  little  alterations  are  made, 
Madame  Mantalini,"  said  the  lady.  "  Nay,  you  bad  man,  you 
positivelv  shall  go  first  ;  I  wouldn't  leave  you  behind  with 
that  pretty  girl,  not  for  half  a  second.  I  know  you  too  well. 
Jane,  my  dear,"  let  him  go  first,  and  we  shall  be  quite  sure  of 
him." 

The  old  lord,  evidently  much  flattered  by  this  suspicion, 
bestowed  a  grotesque  leer  upon  Kate  as  he  passed  ;  and  re- 
ceiving another  tap  with  the  parasol  for  his  wickedness, 
tottered  down  stairs  to  the  door,  where  his  sprightly  body 
was  hoisted  into  the  carriage  by  two  stout  footmen. 

"  Foh  !  "  said  Madame  Mantalini,  "  how  he  ever  gets  into 
a  carriage  without  thinking  of  a  hearse,  /can't  think.  There, 
take  the  things  away,  my  dear,  take  them  away." 

Kate,  who  had  remained  during  the  whole  scene  with  her 
eyes  modestly  fixed  upon  the  ground,  was  only  too  happy  to 


> 


o 


■z  - 


W73 


r 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  229 

avail  herself  of  the  permission  to  retire,  and  hasten  joyfully 
down  stairs  to  Miss  Knag's  dominion. 

The  circumstances  of  the  little  kingdom  had  greatly 
changed,  however,  during  the  short  period  of  her  absence. 
In  place  of  Miss  Knag  being  stationed  in  her  accustomed 
seat,  preserving  all  the  dignity  and  greatness  of  Madame 
Mantalini's  representative,  that  worthy  soul  was  reposing  on  a 
large  box,  bathed  in  tears,  while  three  or  four  of  the  young 
ladies  in  close  attendance  upon  her,  together  with  the  presence 
of  hartshorn,  vinegar,  and  other  restoratives,  would  have 
borne  ample  testimony,  even  without  the  derangement  of  the 
head-dress  and  front  row  of  curls,  to  her  having  fainted 
desperately. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  said  Kate,  stepping  hastily  forward,  "  What 
is  the  matter  ?  " 

This  inquiry  produced  in  Miss  Knag  violent  symptoms  uf 
a  relapse  \  and  several  young  ladies,  darting  angry  looks  at 
Kate,  applied  more  vinegar  and  hartshorn,  and  said  it  was  "  a 
shame." 

"  What  is  a  shame  ?  "  demanded  Kate.  "  What  is  the 
matter.-*     What  has  happened .-'  tell  me." 

"  Matter  !  "  cried  Miss  Knag,  coming,  all  at  once,  bolt 
upright,  to  the  great  consternation  of  the  assembled  maidens  \ 
"  Matter !     Fie  upon  you,  you  nasty  creature  !  " 

"  Gracious  !  "  cried  Kate,  almost  paralyzed  by  the  violence 
with  which  the  adjective  had  been  jerked  out  from  between 
Miss  Knag's  closed  teeth  ;  "  have  /offended  you  ?  " 

"  YoH  offended  me  !  "  retorted  Miss  Knag,  "  You  !  a  chit, 
a  child,  an  upstart  nobody  !     Oh,  indeed  !     Ha,  ha  !  " 

Now,  it  was  evident,  as  Miss  Knag  laughed,  that  some- 
thing struck  her  as  being  exceedingly  funny ;  and  as  the 
young  ladies  took  their  tone  from  Miss  Knag — she  being  the 
chief — they  all  got  up  a  laugh  without  a  moment's  delay,  and 
nodded  their  heads  a  little,  and  smiled  sarcastically  to  each 
other,  as  much  as  to  say,  how  very  good  that  was  ! 

"  Here  she  is,"  continued  Miss  Knag,  getting  off  the  box, 
and  introducing  Kate  with  much  ceremony  and  many  low 
curtseys  to  the  delighted  throng  ;  "  here  she  is — everybody 
is  talking  about  her — the  belle,  ladies — the  beauty,  the — oh, 
you  bold-faced  thing  !  " 

Here  Miss  Knag  was  unable  to  repress  a  virtuous  shud- 
der, which  immediately  communicated  itself  to  all  the  young 
ladies  j  after  which,  Miss  Knag  laughed,  and  after  that  cried. 


230 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  Foi*  fifteen  years,"  exclaimed  Miss  Knag,  sobbing  in  a 
most  affecting  manner,  "  for  fifteen  years  liave  I  been  tlie 
credit  and  ornament  of  this  room  and  the  one  up  stairs. 
Tliank  God,"  said  Miss  Knag,  stamping  first  her  right  foot 
and  then  her  left  with  remarkable  energy,  "  I  have  never 
in  all  that  time,  till  now,  been  exposed  to  the  arts,  the  vile 
arts,  of  a  creature,  who  disgraces  us  with  all  her  proceedings, 
and  makes  proper  people  blush  for  themselves.  But  I  feel  it, 
I  do  feel  it,  although  I  am  disgusted." 

Miss  Knag  here  relapsed  into  softness,  and  the  young 
ladies  renewing  their  attentions,  murmured  that  she  ought  to 
be  superior  to  such  things,  and  that  for  their  part  they  despised 
them,  and  considered  them  beneath  their  notice  ;  in  witness 
whereof,  they  called  out,  more  emphatically  than  before,  that 
it  was  a  shame,  and  that  they  felt  so  angry,  they  did,  they 
hardly  knew  what  to  do  with  themselves. 

"  Have  I  lived  to  this  day  to  be  called  a  fright  !  "  cried 
Miss  Knag,  suddenly  becoming  convulsive,  and  making  an 
effort  to  tear  her  front  off. 

"  Oh  no,  no,"  replied  the  chorus,  "  pray  don't  say  so  ; 
don't  now !  " 

"  Have  I  deserved  to  be  called  an  elderly  person  ? " 
screamed  Miss  Knag,  wrestling  with  the  supernumeraries. 

"Don't  think  of  such  things,  dear,"  answered  the  chorus. 

"I  hate  her,"  cried  Miss  Knag;  "  I  detest  and  hate  her. 
Never  let  her  speak  to  me  again  ;  never  let  anybody  who  is  a 
friend  of  mine  speak  to  her ;  a  slut,  a  hussy,  an  impudent  art- 
ful hussy  !  "  Having  denounced  the  object  of  her  wrath,  in 
these  terms.  Miss  Knag  screamed  once,  hiccupped  thrice, 
gurgled  in  her  throat  several  times,  slumbered,  shivered,  woke, 
came  to,  composed  her  head-dress,  and  declared  herself  quite 
well  again. 

Poor  Kate  had  regarded  these  proceedings,  at  first,  in 
perfect  bewilderment.  She  had  then  turned  red  and  pale 
by  turns,  and  once  or  twice  essayed  to  speak  ;  but,  as  the  true 
motives  of  this  altered  behavior  developed  themselves,  she 
retired  a  few  paces,  and  looked  calmly  on  without  deigning 
a  reply.  Nevertheless,  although  she  walked  proudly  to  her 
seat,  and  turned  her  back  upon  the  group  of  little  satellites 
who  clustered  round  their  ruling  planet  in  the  remotest  corner 
of  the  room,  she  gave  way,  in  secret,  to  some  such  bitter  tears 
as  would  have  gladdened  Miss  Knag's  inmost  soul,  if  she 
could  have  seen  them  fall. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  „  ,  ^ 

231 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


r'f 


DESCRIPTIVE  OF  A  DINNER  AT  MR.  RALPH  NICKLEBY  S  AND 
OF  THE  MANNER  IN  WHICH  THE  COMPANY  ENTERTAINED 
THEMSELVES,  BEFORE  DINNER,  AT  DINNER,  AND  AFTER 
DINNER, 

The  bile  and  rancor  of  the  worthy  Miss  Knag  undergoing 
no  diminution  during  the  remainder  of  the  week,  but  rather 
augmenting  with  every  successive  hour ;  and  the  honest  ire  of 
all  the  young  ladies  rising,  or  seeming  to  rise  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  the  good  spinster's  indignation,  and  both  waxing  very 
hot  every  time  Miss  Nickleby  was  called  up  stairs  ;  it  will  be 
readily  imagined  that  that  young  lady's  daily  life  was  none  of 
the  most  cheerful  or  enviable  kind.  She  hailed  the  arrival 
of  Saturday  night,  as  a  prisoner  would  a  few  delicious  hours' 
respite  from  slow  and  wearing  torture,  and  felt  that  the  poor 
pittance  for  the  first  week's  labor  would  have  been  dearly  and 
hardly  earned,  had  its  amount  been  trebled. 

When  she  joined  her  mother,  as  usual,  at  the  street  corner, 
she  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  her  in  conversation  with 
Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  ;  but  her  surprise  was  soon  redoubled, 
no  less  by  the  matter  of  their  conversation,  than  by  the 
smoothed  and  altered  manner  of  Mr.  Nickleby  himself. 

"  Ah  !  my  dear !  "  said  Ralph  ;  "  we  were  at  that  moment 
talking  about  you." 

Ci Indeed!"  replied  Kate,  shrinking,  though  she  scarce 
knewwhy,  trom  her  uncle's  cold  glistening  eye. 
^~  "  ThaT'TfTStant,'"  said  Ralpli.  "  I  was  coming  to  call  for 
you,  making  sure  to  catch  you  before  you  left ;  but  your 
mother  and  I  have  been  talking  over  family  affairs,  and  the 
time  has  slipped  away  so  rapidly " 

"Well,  now,  hasn't  it?"  interposed  Mrs.  Nickleby,  quite 
insensible  to  the  sarcastic  tone  of  Ralph's  last  remark, 
"Upon  my  word,  I  couldn't  have  believed  it  possible,  that 
such  a — —Kate,  my  dear,  you're  to  dine  with  your  uncle  at 
half-past  six  o'clock  to-morrow." 

Triumphing  in  having  been  the  first  to  communicate  this 
extraordinary  intelligence,  Mrs.  Nickleby  nodded  and  smiled 


m 


232  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

a  great  many  times,  to  impress  its  full  magnificence  on  Kate's 
wondering  mind,  and  then  flew  off,  at  an  acute  angle,  to  a 
committee  of  ways  and  means. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  the  good  lady.  "  Your  black  silk 
frock  will  be  quite  dress  enough,  my  dear,  with  that  pretty 
little  scarf,  and  a  plain  band  in  your  hair,  and  a  pair  of  black 

silk  stock Dear,  dear,"  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  flying  off  at 

another  angle,  "  if  I  had  but  those  unfortunate  amethysts  of 
mine — you  recollect  them,  Kate,  my  love — how  they  used  to 
sparkle,  you  know — but  your  papa,  your  poor  dear  papa — 
ah  !  there  never  was  anything  so  cruelly  sacrificed  as  those 
jewels  were,  never  !  "  Overpowered  by  this  agonizing  thought, 
Mrs.  Nickleby  shook  her  head  in  a  melancholy  manner,  and 
applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"  I  don't  want  them,  mama,  indeed,"  said  Kate.  "  Forget 
that  you  ever  had  them." 

"Lord,  Kate,  my  dear,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Nickleby,  pettishly, 
"  how  like  a  child  you  talk  !  Four-and-twenty  silver  tea- 
spoons, brother-in-law,  two  gravies,  four  salts,  all  the  ame- 
thysts— necklace,  brooch,  and  ear-rings — all  made  away  with, 
at  the  same  time,  and  I  saying,  almost  on  my  bended  knees, 
to  that  poor  good  soul,  '  Why  don't  you  do  something, 
Nicholas  ?  Why  don't  you  make  some  arrangement  ?  '  I  am 
sure  that  anybody  who  was  about  us  at  that  time,  will  do  me 
the  justice  to  own,  that  if  I  said  that  once,  I  said  it  fifty  times 
a-day.  Didn't  I,  Kate,  my  dear .''  Did  I  ever  lose  an  oppor- 
tunity of  impressing  it  on  your  poor  papa  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  mama,  never,"  replied  Kate.  And  to  do  Mrs. 
Nickleby  justice,  she  never  had  lost — and  to  do  married  ladies 
as  a  body  justice,  they  seldom  do  lose — any  occasion  of  in- 
culcating similar  golden  precepts,  whose  only  blemish  is,  the 
slight  degree  of  vagueness  and  uncertainty  in  which  they  are 
usually  enveloped. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  great  fervor,  "  if  my 
advice  had  been  taken  at  the  begin.ning — Well,  I  have  always 
done  my  duty,  and  that's  some  comfort." 

When  she  had  arrived  at  this  reflection,  Mrs.  Nickleby 
sighed,  rubbed  her  hands,  cast  up  her  eyes,  and  finally 
assumed  a  look  of  meek  composure  ;  thus  importing  that  she 
was  a  persecuted  saint,  but  that  she  wouldn't  trouble  h.er 
hearers  by  mentioning  a  circumstance  which  must  be  so 
obvious  to  everybody. 

"  Now,"  said  Ralph,  with  a  smile,  which,  in  common  with 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  233 

all  other  tokens  of  emotion,  seemed  to  skulk  under  his  face, 
rather  than  play  boldly  over  it — "  to  return  to  the  point  from 
which  we  have  strayed.  I  have  a  little  party  of — of — gentle- 
men with  whom  I  am  connected  in  business  just  now,  at  my 
house  to-morrow ;  and  your  mother  has  promised  that  you 
shall  keep  house  for  me.  I  am  not  much  used  to  parties  ; 
but  this  is  one  of  business,  and  such  fooleries  are  an  impor- 
tant part  of  it  sometimes.     You  don't  mind  obliging  me  ?  " 

"  Mind  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby.     "  My  dear  Kate,  why — " 

"  Pray,"  interrupted  Ralph,  motioning  lier  to  be  silent. 
"  I  spoke  to  my  niece." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad,  of  course,  uncle,"  replied  Kate  ; 
"  but  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  me  awkward  and  embar- 
rassed." 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  come  when  you  like,  in  a  hack- 
ney coach — I'll  pay  for  it.  Good-night — a — a — God  bless 
you." 

The  blessing  seemed  to  stick  in  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby's 
throat,  as  if  it  were  not  used  to  the  thoroughfare,  and  didn't 
know  the  way  out.  But  it  got  out  somehow,  though  awk- 
wardly enough  ;  and  having  disposed  of  it,  he  shook  hands 
with  his  two  relatives,  and  abruptly  left  them. 

"  What  a  very  strongly  marked  countenance  your  uncle 
has  !  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  quite  struck  with  his  parting  look. 
"  I  don't  see  the  slightest  resemblance  to  his  poor  brother." 

"  Mama  !  "  said'Kate  reprovingly.  "  To  think  of  such  a 
thing  !  " 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  musing.  "There  certainly  is 
none.     But  it's  a  very  honest  face." 

The  worthy  matron  made  this  remark  with  great  emphasis 
and  elocution,  as  if  it  comprised  no  small  quantity  of  ingenuity 
and  research  ;  and,  in  truth,  it  was  not  unworthy  of  being 
classed  among  the  extraordinary  discoveries  of  the  age.  Kate 
looked  up  hastily,  and  as  hastily  looked  down  again. 

"  What  has  come  over  you,  my  dear,  in  the  name  of  good- 
ness ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Nickleby,  when  they  had  walked  on,  for 
some  time,  in  silence. 

"I  was  only  thinking,  mama,"  answered  Kate. 

"  Thinking  !  "  repea'ted  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Ay,  and  indeed 
plenty  to  think  about,  too.  Your  uncle  has  taken  a  strong 
fancy  to  you,  that's  quite  clear  ;  and  if  some  extraordinary 
good  fortune  doesn't  come  to  you,  after  this,  I  shall  be  a  little 
surprised,  that's  all." 


234  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

With    this    she    launched    out  into    sundry  anecdotes   of 
young  Ladies,  who  had  had  thousand  pound  notes  given  them 
in   reticules,  by  eccentric   uncles  ;  and   of  young  ladies  who 
had  accidentally  met  amiable  gentlemen  of  enormous  wealth 
at   their  uncles'  houses,  and   married   them,  after   short  but 
ardent  courtships  ;  and   Kate,  listening  first   in   apathy,  and 
afterwards   in  amusement,  felt,  as   they  walked   home,  some- 
thing of  her  mother's  sanguine  complexion  gradually  awaken- 
ing in  her  own  bosom,  and  began  to  think  that  her  prospects 
might  be  bri^tening,  and  that  better  days  might  be  dawning 
upon  themTSuch  is  hope,  Heaven's  own  gift  to  struggling 
mortals  ;  pervading,  like  some  subtle  essence  from  the  skies, 
all   things,  both  good  aod—bad  ;  as  universal  as  death,  and 
more  infectious  than  disease,! 
""^    Tlie  feeble  winter's  sun-^and  winter's  suns  in  the  city  are 
very  feeble  indeed — might  have  brightened  up,  as  he  shone 
through  the  dim  windows  of  the  large  old  house,  on  witness- 
ing the  unusual  sight  which  one  half-furnished  room  displayed. 
In  a  gloomy  corner,  where,  for  years,  had  stood  a  silent  dusty 
pile  of  merchandise,  sheltering  its  colony  of  mice,  and  frown- 
ing, a  dull  and  lifeless  mass,  upon  the   panelled   room,  save 
when,  responding  to  the   roll  of  heavy  wagons  in   the  street 
without,  it  quaked   with    sturdy  tremblings    and    caused   the 
bright  eyes  of  its  tiny  citizens  to  grow  brighter  still  with  fear, 
and  struck  them  motionless,  with  attentive  ear  and  palpitating 
heart,  until  the   alarm  had  passed  away — in  this  dark  corner, 
was  arranged,  with  scrupulous  care,  all  Kate's  little  finery  for 
the  day  ;  each  article  of  dress  partaking  of  that  indescribable 
air  of  jauntiness  and  individuality  which   empty  garments — 
whether  by  association,  or  that  they  become  moulded,  as  it 
were,  to  the  owner's  form — will  take,  in  eyes  accustomed  to, 
or  picturing,  the  wearer's  smartness.     In  place   of   a  bale  of 
musty  goods,  there  lay  the  black  silk  dress  ;  the  neatest  pos- 
sible figure   in  itself.     The  small  shoes,  with   toes   delicately 
turned  out,  stood  upon  the  very  pressure   of   some  old  iron 
weight  ;  and  a  pile  of  harsh  discolored   leather  had  uncon- 
sciously given  place  to  the  very  same  little  pair  of  black  silk 
stockings,  which   had   been   the   objects   of    Mrs.  Nickleby's 
peculiar  care.     Rats  and  mice,  and  such  small  gear,  had  long 
ago  been  starved,  or  had  emigrated  to  better  quarters  :  and, 
in  their  stead,  appeared  gloves,  bands,  scarfs,  hair-pins,  and 
many  other  little  de\ices,  almost  as  inirenious  in  their  way  as 
rats  and  mice  themselves,  for  the  tantalization  of  mankind. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


^35 


A.bout  and  among  them  all,  moved  Kate  herself,  not  the  least 
beautiful  or  unwonted  relief  to  the  stern,  old,  gloomy  building. 

In  good  time,  or  in  bad  time,  as  the  reader  likes  to  take  it 
• — for  Mrs.  Nickleby's  impatience  went  a  great  deal  faster 
than  the  clocks  at  that  end  of  the  town,  and  Kate  was  dressed 
to  the  very  last  hair-pin  a  full  hour  and  a  half  before  it  was  at 
all  necessary  to  begin  to  think  about  it — in  good  time,  or  in 
bad  time,  the  toilet  was  completed  ;  and  it  being  at  length  the 
hour  agreed  upon  for  starting,  the  milkman  fetched  a  coach 
from  the  nearest  stand,  and  Kate,  with  many  adieux  to  her 
mother,  and  many  kind  messages  to  Miss  La  Creevy,  who 
was  to  come  to  tea,  seated  herself  in  it,  and  went  away  in 
state,  if  ever  anybody  went  away  in  state  in  a  hackney  coach 
yet.  And  the  coach,  and  the  coachman,  and  the  horses,  rat- 
tled, and  jangled,  and  whipped,  and  cursed,  and  swore,  and 
tumbled  on  together,  until  they  came  to  Golden  Square. 

The  coachman  gave  a  tremendous  double  knock  at  the 
door,  which  was  opened  long  before  he  had  done,  as  quickly 
as  if  there  had  been  a  man  behind  it,  with  his  hand  tied  to 
the  latch.  Kate,  who  had  expected  no  more  uncommon  ap- 
pearance than  Newman  Noggs  in  a  clean  shirt,  was  not  a  lit- 
tle astonished  to  see  that  the  opener  was  a  man  in  handsome 
livery,  and  that  there  were  two  or  three  others  in  the  hall. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  its  being  the  right  house,  however, 
for  there  was  the  name  upon  the  door ;  so  she  accepted  the 
laced  coat-sleeve  which  was  tendered  her,  and  entering  the 
house,  was  ushered  up  stairs,  into  a  back  drawing-room, 
where  she  was  left  alone. 

If  she  had  been  surprised  at  the  apparition  of  the  foot- 
man, she  was  perfectly  absorbed  in  amazement  at  the  richness 
and  splendor  of  the  furniture.  The  softest  and  most  elegant 
carpets,  the  most  exquisite  pictures,  the  costliest  mirrors  ; 
articles  of  richest  ornament,  quite  dazzling  from  their  beauty, 
and  perplexing  from  the  prodigality  with  which  they  were 
scattered  around  ;  encountered  her  on  every  side.  The  very 
staircase  nearly  down  to  the  hall  door,  was  crammed  with 
beautiful  and  luxurious  things,  as  though  the  house  were 
brim-full  of  riches,  which,  with  a  very  trifling  addition,  would 
fairly  run  over  into  the  street. 

Presently,  she  heard  a  series  of  loud  double  knocks  at 
the  street-door,  and  after  every  knock  some  new  voice  in  the 
next  room  ;  the  tones  of  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  were  easilv  dis- 
tinguishable at  first,   but  by  degrees  they  merged  into   the 


236  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

general  buzz  of  conversation,  and  all  she  could  ascertain  was, 
that  there  were  several  gentlemen  with  no  very  musical  voices, 
who  talked  very  loud,  laughed  very  heartily,  and  swore  more 
than  she  would  have  thought  quite  necessary.  But  this  was 
a  question  of  taste. 

At  length,  the  door  opened,  and  Ralph  himself,  divested 
of  his  boots,  and  ceremoniously  embellished  with  black  silks 
and  shoes,  presented  his  crafty  face. 

"  I  couldn't  see  you  before,  my  dear,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  and  pointing,  as  he  spoke,  to  the  next  room.  "  I  was 
engaged  in  receiving  them.     Now — shall  I  take  you  in  t  " 

"  Pray,  uncle,"  said  Kate,  a  little  fiurried,  as  people 
much  more  conversant  with  society  often  are,  when  they  are 
about  to  enter  a  room  full  of  strangers,  and  have  had  time  to 
think  of  it  previously,   "  are  there  any  ladies  here  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ralph,  shortly,   "  I  don't  know  any." 

"  Must  I  go  in  immediately  ?  "  asked  Kate,  drawing  back 
a  little. 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Ralph,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  They  are  all  come,  and  dinner  will  be  announced  directly 
afterwards — that's  all." 

Kate  would  have  entreated  a  few  minutes'  respite,  but 
reflecting  that  her  uncle  might  consider  the  payment  of  the 
hackney-coach  fare  a  sort  of  bargain  for  her  punctuality,  she 
suffered  him  to  draw  her  arm  through  his,  and  to  lead  her 
away. 

Seven  or  eight  gentlemen  were  standing  round  the  fire 
when  they  went  in,  and,  as  they  were  talking  very  loud,  were 
not  aware  of  their  entrance  until  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby,  touch- 
ing one  on  the  coat-sleeve,  said  in  a  harsh  emphatic  voice,  as 
if  to  attract  general  attention — 

"  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  my  niece,  Miss  Nickleby." 

The  group  dispersed,  as  if  in  great  surprise,  and  the  gen- 
tleman addressed,  turning  round,  exhibited,  a  suit  of  clothes 
of  the  most  superlative  cut,  a  pair  of  whiskers  of  similar 
quality,  a  moustache,  a  head  of  hair,  and  a  young  face. 

"  Eh  !"  said  the  gentleman.     "What — the — deyvle  !  " 

With  which  broken  ejaculations,  he  fixed  his  glass  in  his 
eye,  and  stared  at  Miss  Nickleby  in  great  surprise. 

"  My  niece,  my  lord,"  said  Ralph. 

"Then  my  ears  did  not  deceive  me,  and  it's  not  wa-a-x 
works,"  said  his  lordship.  "  How  de  do?  I'm  very  happy." 
And  then  his  lordship  turned  to  another  superlative  gentle- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


237 


man,  something  older,  something  stouter,  something  redder  in 
the  face,  and  something  longer  upon  town,  and  said  in  a  loud 
whisper  that  the  girl  was  "deyvlish  pitty." 

"  Introduce  me,  Nickleby,"  said  this  second  gentleman, 
who  was  lounging  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  and  both  elbows 
on  the  chimney-piece. 

"  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Otherwise  the  most  knowing  card  in  the  pa-ack.  Miss 
Nickleby,"  said  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht. 

"  Don't  leave  me  out,  Nickleby,"  cried  a  sharp-faced 
gentleman,  who  was  sitting  on  a  low  chair  with  a  high  back, 
reading  the  paper. 

"  Mr.  Pyke,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Nor  me,  Nickleby,"  cried  a  gentleman  with  a  flushed 
face  and  a  flash  air,  from  the  elbow  of  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk. 

"  Mr.  Pluck,"  said  Ralph.  Then  wheeling  about  again, 
towards  a  gentleman  with  the  neck  of  a  stork  and  the  legs  of 
no  animal  in  particular,  Ralph  introduced  him  as  the  Honor- 
able Mr.  Snobb  ;  and  a  white-headed  person  at  the  table  as 
Colonel  Chowser.  The  colonel  was  in  conversation  with 
somebody,  who  appeared  to  be  a  make-weight,  and  was  not 
introduced  at  all. 

There  were  two  circumstances  which,  in  this  early  stage  of 
the  party,  struck  home  to  Kate's„  bosom,,  and  brought  the« 
hlnnH^trn^in^IO.-hpr  ^arp."  <,)ne,,  wn^;  the  flippant  contempt 
wjtFjvhich  the  guests  evidently  regarded  her  uncle,  and  the 
other^the  easy  msolence  ot  tlieir'  manner  towards  herself. 
TlTarflTe~frrstsyTrrptnm  was  ver}'  likely  to  lead  to  the  aggrava- 
tion'of  the  second,  it  needed  no  groat  penetration  to  foresee. 
Ancl'hcrc  ^Tr.  RaTph'Xieklebv  had  reckoned  without  his'host  ; 
for  howe\er  fresh  from  the  count ly  a  young  lady  (by  nature) 
may  be,  and  however  unacquainted  with  conventional  be- 
havior, the  chances  are,  that  she  will  have  quite  as  strong  an 
innate  sense  of  the  decencies  aud  proprieties  of  life  as  if  she 
had  run  the  gauntlet  of  a  dozen  London  seasons — possibly  a 
stronger  one,  for  such  senses  have  been  known  to  blunt  in 
this  improving  process. 

When  Ralph  had  completed  the  ceremonial  of  introduc- 
tion, he  led  his  blushing  niece  to  a  seat.  As  he  did  so.  he 
glanced  warily  round  as  though  to  assure  himself  of  the  im- 
pression which  her  unlooked-for  appearance  had  created. 

"  An  unexpected  playsure,  Nickleby,"  said  Lord  Frederick 
Verisopht,  taking  his  glass  out  of  his  right  eye,  where  it  had, 


238 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


until  now,  done  duty  on  Kate,  and  fixing  it  in  his  left,  to  bring 
it  to  bear  on  Ralph. 

"  Designed  to  surprise  you.  Lord  Frederick,"  said  Mr. 
Pluck. 

"  Not  a  bad  idea,"  said  his  lordship,  "  and  one  that  would 
almost  warrant  the  addition  of  an   extra  two   and  a   half  per 


cent." 


"  Nickleby,"  said  Sir  Mulberrj'  Hawk,  in  a  thick  coarse 
voice,  "  take  the  hint,  and  tack  it  on  to  the  other  five-and- 
twenty,  or  whatever  it  is,  and  give  me  half  for  the  advice." 

Sir  Mulberry  garnished  this  speech  with  a  hoarse  laugh, 
and  terminated  it  with  a  pleasant  oath  regarding  Mr. 
Nickleby's  limbs,  whereat  Messrs.  Pyke  and  Pluck  laughed 
consumedly. 

These  gentlemen  had  not  yet  quite  recovered  the  jest, 
when  dinner  was  announced,  and  then  they  were  thrown  into 
fresh  ecstacies  by  a  similar  cause  ;  for  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  in 
an  excess  of  humor,  shot  dexterously  past  Lord  Fredtrick 
Verisopht  who  was  about  to  lead  Kate  down  stairs,  and  drew 
her  arm  through  his  up  to  the  elbow. 

"No,  damn  it,  Verisopht,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  "fair  play's 
a  jewel,  and  Miss  Nickleby  and  I  settled  the  matter  with  our 
eyes,  ten  minutes  ago." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  the  Honorable  Mr.  Snobb,  "  very 
good,  very  good." 

Rendered  additionally  witty  by  this  applause.  Sir  Mulberry 
Hawk  leered  upon  his  friends  most  facetiously,  and  led  Kate 
down  stairs  with  an  air  of  familiarity,  which  roused  in  her 
gentle  breast  such  burning  indignation,  as  she  felt  it  almost 
impossible  to  repress.  Nor  was  the  intensity  of  these  feelings 
at  all  diminished,  when  she  found  herself  placed  at  the  top  of 
the  table,  with  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  and  Lord  Frederick 
Verisopht  on  either  side. 

"  Oh,  you'\'e  found  your  way  into  our  neighborhood,  have 
you?  "  said  Sir  Mulberry  as  his  lordship  sat  down. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Lord  Frederick,  fixing  his  eyes  on 
Miss  Nickleby,  "  how  can  you  a-ask  me  .''  " 

"  Well,  you  attend  to  your  dinner,"  said  Sir  Mulberr}', 
"  and  don't  mind  Miss  Nickleby  and  me,  for  we  shall  prove 
very  indifferent  company,  I  dare  say." 

"  I  wish  you'd  interfere  here,  Nickleby,"  said  Lord  Fred- 
erick. 

"What  is  the   matter,  my  lord?  "  demanded    Ralph   from 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  239 

the  bottom  of  the  table,  where  he  was  supported  by  Messrs. 
Pyke  and  PUick. 

"This  fellow,  Hawk,  is  monopolizing  your  niece,"  said 
Lord  Frederick. 

"  He  has  a  tolerable  share  of  every  thing  that  you  lay  claim 
to,  my  lord,"  said  Ralph  with  a  sneer. 

"  'Gad,  so  he  has,"  replied  the  young  man  ;  "  deyvle  take 
me  if  I  know  which  is  master  in  my  house,  he  or  I." 

"/know,"  muttered  Ralph. 

"I  think  I  shall  cut  him  off  with  a  shilling,"  said  the  young 
nobleman,  jocosely. 

"  No,  no,  curse  it,"  said  Sir  Mulberry.  "  When  you  come 
to  the  shilling — the  last  shilling — I'll  cut  you  fast  enough  ;  but 
till  then.  Til  never  leave  you — you  may  take  your  oath  of  it." 

This  sally  (which  was  strictly  founded  on  fact),  was 
received  with  a  general  roar,  above  which,  was  plainly  distin- 
guishable the  laughter  of  Mr.  Pyke  and  Mr.  Pluck,  who  were, 
evidently.  Sir  Mulberry's  toads  in  ordinary.  Indeed,  it  was 
not  difficult  to  see,  that  the  majority  of  the  company  preyed 
upon  the  unfortunate  young  lord,  who,  weak  and  silly  as  he 
was,  appeared  by  far  the  least  vicious  of  the  party.  Sir  Mul- 
berry Hawk  was  remarkable  for  his  tact  in  ruining,  by  himself 
and  his  creatures,  young  gentlemen  of  fortune — a  genteel  and 
elegant  profession,  of  which  he  had  undoubtedly  gained  the 
head.  With  all  the  boldness  of  an  original  genius,  he  had 
struck  out  an  entirely  new  course  of  treatment  quite  opposed 
to  the  usual  method  ;  his  custom  being,  when  he  had  gained 
the  ascendancy  over  those  he  took  in  hand,  rather  to  keep 
them  down  than  to  give  them  their  own  way  ;  and  to  exercise 
his  vivacity  upon  them,  openly,  and  without  reserve.  Thus, 
he  made  them  butts,  in  a  double  sense,  and  while  he  emptied 
them  with  great  address,  caused  them  to  ring  with  sundry 
well-administered  taps,  for  the  diversion  of  society. 

The  dinner  was  as  remarkable  for  the  splendor  and  com- 
pleteness of  its  appointments  as  the  mansion  itself,  and  the 
company  were  remarkable  for  doing  it  ample  justice,  in  which 
respect  Messrs.  Pyke  and  Pluck  particularly  signalized  them- 
selves ;  these  two  gentlemen  eating  of  every  dish,  and  drink- 
ing of  every  bottle,  with  a  capacity  and  perseverance  truly 
astonishing.  They  were  remarkably  fresh,  too,  notwithstand- 
ing their  great  exertions :  for,  on  the  appearance  of  the 
dessert,  they  broke  out  again,  as  if  nothing  serious  had  taken 
place  since  breakfast 


240  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Well,"  said  Lord  Frederick,  sipping  his  first  glass  of 
port,  "  if  this  is  a  discounting  dinner  all  I  have  to  say  is, 
deyvle  take  me,  if  it  wouldn't  be  a  good  pla-an  to  get  discount 
every  day." 

"  You'll  have  plenty  of  it,  in  your  time,"  returned  Sir  Mul- 
berry  Hawk  ;  "  Nickleby  will  tell  you  that." 

"What  do  you  say,  Nickleby  ?  "  inquired  the  young  man  ; 
"  am  I  to  be  a  good  customer  ?  " 

•'  It  depends  entirely  on  circumstances,  my  lord,"  replied 
Ralph. 

"On  your  lordship's  circumstances,"  interposed  Colonel 
Chowser  of  the  Militia — and  the  race-courses. 

The  gallant  colonel  glanced  at  Messrs.  Pyke  and  Pluck 
as  if  he  thought  they  ought  to  laugh  at  his  joke  ;  but  those 
gentlemen,  being  only  engaged  to  laugh  for  Sir  Mulberry 
Hawk,  were,  to  his  signal  discomfiture,  as  grave  as  a  pair  of 
undertakers.  To  add  to  his  defeat,  Sir  Mulberry,  considering 
any  such  efforts  an  invasion  of  his  peculiar  privilege,  eyed 
the  offender  steadily,  through  his  glass,  as  if  astonished  at 
his  presumption,  and  audibly  stated  his  impression  that  it  was 
an  "  infernal  liberty,"  which  being  a  hint  to  Lord  Frederick, 
he  put  up  his  glass,  and  surveyed  the  object  of  censure  as  if 
he  were  some  extraordinary  wild  animal  then  exhibiting  for 
the  first  time.  As  a  matter  of  course,  Messrs.  Pvke  and  Pluck 
stared  at  the  individual  whom  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  stared  at ; 
so,  the  poor  colonel,  to  hide  his  confusion,  was  reduced  to  the 
necessity  of  holding  his  port  before  his  right  eye  and  affect- 
ing to  scrutinize  its  color  with  the  most  lively  interest. 

All  this  while,  Kate  had  sat  as  silently  as  she  could, 
scarcely  daring  to  raise  her  eyes,  lest  they  should  encounter 
the  admiring  gaze  of  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  or,  what  was 
still  more  embarrassing,  the  bold  looks  of  his  friend  Sir  Mul- 
berry. The  latter  gentleman  was  obliging  enough  to  direct 
general  attention  towards  her. 

"  Here  is  Miss  Nickleby,"  observed  Sir  Mulberrj-,  "won- 
dering why  the  deuce  somebody  doesn't  make  love  to  her." 

"  No,  indeed,''  said  Kate,  looking  hastily  up,  "  I "  and 

then  she  stopped,  feeling  it  would  have  been  better  to  have 
said  nothing  at  all. 

"  I'll  hold  any  man  fifty  pounds,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  "  that 
Miss  Nickleby  can't  look  in  my  face,  and  tell  me  she  wasn't 
thinking  so." 

"  Done  !  "  cried  the  noble  gull.     "  Within  ten  minutes." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  241 

"  Done  !  "  responded  Sir  Mulberry.  The  money  was  pro- 
duced on  both  sides,  and  the  Honorable  Mr.  Snobb  was 
elected  to  the  double  office  of  stake-holder  and  time-keeper. 

''  Pray,"  said  Kate,  in  great  confusion,  while  these  pre- 
liminaries were  in  course  of  completion.  "  Pray  do  not  make 
me  the  subject  of  any  bets.     Uncle,  I  cannot  really " 

"Why  not  my  dear?"  replied  Ralph,  in  whose  grating 
voice,  however,  there  was  an  unusual  huskiness,  as  though  he 
sj^oke  unwillingly,  and  would  rather  that  the  proposition  had 
not  been  broached.  "  It  is  done  in  a  moment ;  there  is  noth- 
ing in  it.     If  the  gentlemen  insist  on  it " 

/don't  insist  on  it,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  with  a  loud  laugh, 
"  That  is,  I  by  no  means  insist  upon  Miss  Nickleby's  making 
the  denial,  for  if  she  does,  I  lose  ;  but  I  shall  be  glad  to  see 
her  bright  eyes,  especially  as  she  favors  the  mahogany  so 
much." 

"  So  she  does,  and  it's  too  ba-a-d  of  you.  Miss  Nickleby," 
said  the  noble  youth. 

"  Quite  cruel,"  said  Mr.  Pyke. 

"  Horrid  cruel,"  said  Mr.  Pluck. 

"I  don't  care  if  I  do  lose,"  said  Sir  Mulberry  ;  "for  one 
tolerable  look  at  Miss  Nickleby's  eyes  is  worth  double  the 
money." 

"  More,"  said  Mr.  Pyke. 

"  Far  more,"  said  Mr.  Pluck. 

"  How  goes  the  enemy,  Snobb  ?  "  asked  Sir  Mulberry 
Hawk. 

"  Four  minutes  gone." 

"  Bravo  !  " 

"Won't  you  ma-ake  one  effort  for  me.  Miss  Nickleby?" 
asked  Lord  Frederick,  after  a  short  interval. 

"You  needn't  trouble  yourself  to  inquire,  my  buck,"  said 
Sir  Mulberry  ;  "  Miss  Nickleby  and  I  understand  each  other  ; 
she  declares  on  my  side,  and  shows  her  taste.  You  haven't  a 
chance,  old  fellow.     Time,  Snobb?  " 


"  Eight  minutes  gone." 


"  Get  the  money  ready,"  said  Sir  Mulberry  j  "  You'll  soon 
hand  over." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  "  laughed  Mr.  Pyke. 

Mr.  Pluck,  who  always  came  second,  and  topped  his  com- 
panion if  he  could,  screamed  outright. 

The  poor  girl,  who  was  so  overwhelmed  with  confusion 
that  she  scarcely  knew  what  she  did,  had  determined  to  remain 

16 


242 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


perfectly  quiet  ;  but  fearing  that  by  so  doing  she  might  seem 
to  countenance  Sir  Mulberry's  boast,  which  had  been  uttered 
with  great  coarseness  and  vulgarity  of  manner,  raised  her  eyes, 
and  looked  him  in  the  face.  There  was  something  so  odious, 
so  insolent,  so  repulsive  in  the  look  which  met  her,  that,  with- 
out the  power  to  stammer  forth  a  syllable,  she  rose  and  hurried 
from  the  room.  She  restrained  her  tears  by  a  great  effort 
until  she  was  alone  up  stairs,  and  then  gave  them  vent. 

"  Capital !  "  said  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  putting  the  stakes 
in  his  pocket.  "  That's  a  girl  of  spirit,  and  we'll  drink  her 
health." 

It  is  needless  to  say,  that  Pyke  and  Co.  responded,  with 
great  warmth  of  manner,  to  this  proposal,  or  that  the  toast  was 
drunk  with  many  little  insinuations  from  the  firm,  relative  to 
the  completeness  of  Sir  Mulberry's  conquest.  Ralph,  who, 
while  the  attention  of  the  other  guests  was  attracted  to  the 
principals  in  the  preceding  scene,  had  eyed  them  like  a  wolf, 
appeared  to  breathe  more  freely  now  his  niece  was  gone  ;  the 
decanters  passing  quickly  round,  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
and  turned  his  eyes  from  speaker  to  speaker,  as  they  warmed 
with  wine,  with  looks  that  seemed  to  search  their  hearts,  and 
lay  bare,  for  his  distempered  sport,  every  idle  thought  within 
them. 

Meanwhile  Kate,  left  wholly  to  herself,  had  in  some  degree, 
recovered  her  composure.  She  had  learnt  from  a  female  at- 
tendant, that  her  uncle  wished  to  see  her  before  she  left,  and 
had  also  gleaned  the  satisfactory  intelligence,  that  the  gentle- 
men would  take  coffee  at  table.  The  prospect  of  seeing  them 
no  more,  contributed  greatly  to  calm  her  agitation,  and,  taking 
up  a  book,  she  composed  herself  to  read. 

She  started  sometimes,  when  the  sudden  opening  of  the 
dining-room  door  let  loose  a  wild  shout  of  noisy  revelry,  and 
more  than  once  rose  in  great  alarm,  as  a  fancied  footstep  on 
the  staircase  impressed  her  with  the  fear  that  some  stray  mem- 
ber of  the  party  was  returning  alone.  Nothing  occurring,  how- 
ever, to  realize  her  apprehensions,  she  endeavored  to  fix  her 
attention  more  closely  on  her  book,  in  which  by  degrees  she 
became  so  much  interested,  that  she  had  read  on  through  sev- 
eral chapters  without  heed  of  time  or  place,  when  she  was  teri- 
fied  by  suddenly  hearing  her  name  pronounced  by  a  man's 
voice  close  at  her  ear. 

The  book  fell  from  her   hand.      Lounging  on   an  ottoman 
close  beside  her,  was  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  evidently  the  worse 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  243 

— if  a  man  be  a  ruffian  at  heart,  he  is  never  the  better — for 
wine. 

"  What  a  deUghtful  studiousness  !  "  said  this  accompHshed 
gentleman.  "  Was  it  real,  now,  or  only  to  display  the  eye- 
lashes ?  " 

Kate,  looking  anxiously  towards  the  door,  made  no  reply. 

"I  have  looked  at  'em  for  five  minutes,"  said  Sir  Mulberry, 
"  Upon  my  soul,  they're  perfect.  Why  did  I  speak,  and  de- 
stroy such  a  pretty  little  picture  !  " 

"Do  me  the  favor  to  be  silent  now,  sir,"  replied  Kate. 

"  No,  don't,"  said  Sir  Mulberr)%  folding  his  crush  hat  to 
lay  his  elbow  on,  and  bringing  himself  still  closer  to  the  young 
lady  ;  "  upon  my  life,  you  oughtn't  to.  Such  a  devoted  slave 
of  yours,  Miss  Nickleby — it's  an  infernal  thing  to  treat  him  so 
harshly,  upon  my  soul  it  is." 

"  I  wish  you  to  understand,  sir,"  said  Kate,  trembling  in 
spite  of  herself,  but  speaking  with  great  indignation,  "  that 
your  behavior  offends  and  disgusts  me.  If  you  have  a  spark 
of  gentlemanly  feeling  remaining,  you  will  leave  me." 

""Now  why,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  "why  will  you  keep  up 
this  appearance  of  excessive  rigor,  my  sweet  creature  ?  Now, 
be  more  natural — My  dear  Miss  Nickleby,  be  more  natural — 
do." 

Kate  hastily  rose  ;  but  as  she  rose,  Sir  Mulberry  caught 
her  dress,  and  forcibly  detained  her. 

"  Let  me  go,  sir,'"  she  cried,  her  heart  swelling  with  anger. 
"  Do  you  hear  ?     Instantly — this  moment." 

"  Sit  down,  sit  down,"  said  Sir  Mulberry  ;  "  I  want  to  talk 
to  you." 

"  Unhand  me,  sir,  this  instant."  cried  Kate. 

"  Not  for  the  world,"  rejoined  Sir  Mulberry.  Thus  speak- 
ing, he  leaned  over,  as  if  to  replace  her  in  her  chair ;  but  the 
young  lady,  making  a  violent  effort  to  disengage  herself,  he 
lost  his  balance,  and  measured  his  length  upon  the  ground. 
As  Kate  sprang  forward  to  lea\'e  the  room,  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby 
appeared  in  the  door-way,  and  confronted  her. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  It  is  this,  sir,"  replied  Kate,  violently  agitated  ;  "  that 
beneath  the  roof  where  I,  a  helpless  girl,  your  dead  brother's 
child,  should  most  have  found  protection,  I  have  been  exposed 
to  insult  which  should  make  you  shrink  to  look  upon  me.  Let 
me  pass  you." 

Ralph  did  shrink,  as  the  indignant  girl   fixed  her  kindling 


2  44  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

eye  upon  him ;  but  he  did  not  comply  with  het  injunction, 
nevertheless  ;  for  he  led  her  to  a  distant  seat,  and  returning, 
and  approaching  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  who  had  by  this  time 
risen,  motioned  towards  the  door. 

"  Your  way  lies  there,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  in  a  suppressed 
voice,  that  some  devil  might  have  owned  with  pride. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  his  friend,  fiercely. 

The  swollen  veins  stood  out  like  sinews  on  Ralph's  wrinkled 
forehead,  and  the  nerves  about  his  mouth  worked  as  though 
some  unendurable  emotion  wrung  them  ;  but  he  smiled  dis- 
dainfully, and  again  pointed  to  the  door. 

"  Do  you  know  me,  you  old  madman  ? "  asked  Sir  Mul- 
berry. 

"Well,"  said  Ralph.  The  fashionable  vagabond  for  the 
moment  quite  quailed  under  the  steady  look  of  the  older  sinner, 
and  walked  towards  the  door,  muttering  as  he  went. 

"  You  wanted  the  lord,  did  you  ?  "  he  said,  stopping  short 
when  he  reached  the  door,  as  if  a  new  light  had  broken  in 
upon  him,  and  confronting  Ralph  again.  "  Damme,  I  was  in 
the  wav,  was  I  ?  " 

Ralph  smiled  again,  but  made  no  answer. 

^"  Who  brought  him  to  you  first  ?  "  pursued  Sir  Mulberry  ; 
"  and  how,  without  me,  could  you  ever  have  wound  him  in 
your  net  as  you  have  ?  " 

"  The  net  is  a  large  one,  and  rather  full,"  said  Ralph. 
"  Take  care  that  it  chokes  nobody  in  the  meshes." 

"  You  would  sell  your  flesh  and  blood  for  money  ;  your- 
self, if  you  have  not  already  made  a  bargain  with  the  devil," 
retorted  the  other.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  your  pretty 
niece  was  not  brought  here,  as  a  decoy  for  the  drunken  boy 
down  stairs  .''  " 

Although  this  hurried  dialogue  was  carried  on,  in  a  sup- 
pressed tone  on  both  sides,  Ralph  looked  involuntarily  round 
to  ascertain  that  Kate  had  not  moved  her  position  so  as  to 
be  within  hearing.  His  adversary  saw  the  advantage  he  had 
gained,  and  followed  it  up. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  asked  again,  "  that  it  is  not 
so  ?  Do'  you  mean  to  say  that  if  he  had  found  his  way  up 
here  instead  of  me,  you  wouldn't  have  been  a  little  more 
blind,  and  a  little  more  deaf,  and  a  little  less  flourishing,  than 
you  have  l)een  ?     Come  Nickleby,  answer  me  that." 

''  I  tell  you  this,"  replied  Ralph,  "  that  if  I  brought  her 
here,  as  a  matter  of  business " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  245 

"  Ay,  that's  the  word,"  interposed  Sir  Mulberry,  with  a 
laugh.     "  You're  coming  to  yourself  again  now." 

" — As  a  matter  of  business,"  pursued  Ralph,  speaking 
slowly  and  firmly,  as  a  man  who  has  made  up  his  mind  to 
say  no  more,  "  l->praiise  T  thought  she  mig;ht  make  some  im- 
pression  on  the  silly  youtTTyou  have  taken  in  Tiand  alTd  are 
leffding  "good  "heTp*  to  ruin,  I  knew — knowing  him — that  it 
would  be  long  before  he  outraged  her  girl's  feelings,  and  that 
unless  he  offended  by  mere  puppyism  and  emptiness,  he 
would,  with  a  little  management,  respect  the  sex  and  conduct 
even  of  his  usurer's  niece.  But  if  I  thought  to  draw  him  on 
ifRrre^gently  by  this  device,  I  did  not  think  of  subiecting  the 
gir-Lto  the  licentiousness  and  brutality  of  so  old  a  hand  ~as 
you.     And  now  we  understand  each  other." 

"  Especially  as  there  was  nothing  to  be  got  by  it — eh  ?  " 
sneered  Sir  Mulberry. 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Ralph.  He  had  turned  away,  and 
lookedl  over  his  shoulder  to  make  this  last  reply.  The  eyes 
of  the  two  worthies  met,  with  an  expression  as  if  each  rascal 
felt  that  there  was  no  disguising  himself  from  the  other  ;  and 
Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  walked  slowly 
out. 

His  friend  closed  the  door,  and  looked  restlessly  towards 
the  spot  where  his  niece  still  remained  in  the  attitude  in  which 
he  had  left  her.  She  had  fiung  herself  heavily  upon  the 
couch,  and  with  her  head  drooping  over  the  cushion,  and  her 
face  hidden  in  her  hands,  seemed  to  be  still  weeping  in  an 
agony  of  shame  and  grief. 

Ralph  would  have  walked_Jnto  any  poverty-stricken 
debtor^shouse.  and  j>nin^f^d  hmi'out  to  a  barm^uTough  in. 
att'enTIance"  upon  a  young  child's  death-bed,  without  the 
si^nalk^tconcgiji,  because  it  would  have  been  a  matter  quite 
in  The  orSmary  course^  of  by^pess.  and  the  man  would  have 
been  a'n  ott'ender  ap-amst  nis  onb;  code  of  morality.  But, 
here  was  a  young  girl,  who  had  done  no  wrong  save  that  of 
coming  into'  the  world  alive  ;  who  had  patiently  yielded  to  all 
his  wishes  ;  who  had  tried  hard  to  please  him — above  all, 
who  didn't  owe  him  money — and  he  felt  awkward  and  ner- 
vous. 

Ralph  took  a  chair  at  some  distance  ;  then,  another  chair 
a  little  nearer  ;  then,  moved  a  little  nearer  still  ;  then  again, 
and  finally  sat  himself  on  the  same  sofa,  and  laid  his  hand  on 
Kate's  arm. 


246  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  Hush,  my  clear!  "  he  said,  as  she  drew  it  back,  and  her 
sobs  burst  out  afresh.  "  Hush,  hush  !  Dont  mind  it  now  ; 
don't  think  of  it," 

"  Oh,  for  pity's  sake,  let  me  go  home,"  cried  Kate.  "  Let 
me  leave  this  house,  and  go  home." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Ralph.  "  You  shall.  But  you  must  dry 
your  eyes  first,  and  compose  yourself.  Let  me  raise  your 
head.     There — there." 

"  Oh,  uncle  ! "  exclaimed  Kate,  clasping  her  hands. 
"  What  have  I  done — what  have  I  done — tliat  you  should 
subject  me  to  this  ?  If  I  had  wronged  you  in  thought, 
or  word,  or  deed,  it  would  have  been  most  cruel  to  me,  and 
the  memory  of  one  you  must  have  loved  in  some  old  time  ; 
but " 

"Only  listen  to  me  for  a  moment,"  interrupted  Ralph, 
seriously  alarmed  by  the  violence  of  her  emotions.  "  I  didn't 
know  it  would  be  so ;  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  foresee  it. 
I^d  all  I  could. — Come,  let  us  walk  about.  You  are  faint 
with  the  closeness  of  the  room,  and  the  heat  of  these  lamps. 
You  will  be  better  now,  if  you  make  the  slightest  effort." 

"  I  will  do  anything,"  replied  Kate,  "if  you  will  only  send 
me  home." 

"Well,  well,  I  will,"  said  Ralph  ;  "but  you  must  get  back 
your  own  looks  ;  for  those  you  have,  will  frighten  them,  and 
nobodymust  know  of^Jijis-but  yQu^  and  L  Now  let  us  walk 
nTe'''otnerwSyr''~T1fiere.     You  look  Better" even  now." 

With  such  encouragements  as  these,  Ralph  Nickleby  walked 
to  and  fro,  with  his  niece  leaning  on  his  arm  ;  actually  trem- 
bling beneath  her  touch. 

In  the  same  manner,  when  he  judged  it  prudent  to  allow 
her  to  depart,  he  supported  her  down  stairs,  after  adjusting 
her  shawl  and  performing  such  little  offices,  most  probably 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  Across  the  hall,  and  down  the 
steps,  Ralph  led  her  too  ;  nor  did  he  withdraw  his  hand,  until 
she  was  seated  in  the  coach. 

As  the  door  of  the  vehicle  was  roughly  closed,  a  comb  fell 
from  Kate's  hair,  close  at  her  uncle's  feet ;  and  as  he  picked 
it  up,  and  returned  it  into  her  hand,  the  light  from  a  neigh- 
boring lamp  shone  upon  her  face.  The  lock  of  hair  that  had 
escaped  and  curled  loosely  over  her  brow,  the  traces  of  tears 
yet  scarcely  dry,  the  flushed  cheek,  the  look  of  sorrow,  all 
fired  some  dormant  train  of  recollection  in  the  old  man's 
breast ;  and  the  face  of  his  dead  brother  seemed  present  be 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  247 

fore  him,  willi  the  very  look  it  bore  on  some  occasion  of  boyish 
grief,  of  which  every  minutest  circumstance  flashed  upon  his 
mincl,  with  the  distinctness  of  a  scene  of  yesterday. 

Ralph  Nickleby,  who  was  proof  against  all  appeals  of 
blood  .and  kindrecl—who^was^  steeled  agauisl  ^yVyfy  Wle"  of 
sorrow~'an(r"3Istr¥sr-^staggered''^V^^^^  he   looked,  and   went 

bacS"mTo"liTrTTouserirrX"ffimr\vhu  had  seen  "a  spirit  from 
some  worTdoeyond  the  grave. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WHEREIN  NICHOLAS  AT  LENGTH  ENCOUNTERS  HIS  UNCLE,  TO 
WHOM  HE  EXPRESSES  HIS  SENTIMENTS  WITH  MUCH  CAN- 
DOR.      HIS    RESOLUTION. 

LiTTTE  Miss  La  Creevy  trotted  briskly  through  divers 
streets  at  the  west  end  of  the  town,  early  on  Monday  morning 
— the  day  after  the  dinner — charged  with  the  important  com- 
mission of  acquainting  Madame  Mantalini  that  Miss  Nickleby 
was  too  unwell  to  attend  that  day,  but  hoped  to  be  enabled 
to  resume  her  duties  on  the  morrow.  And  as  Miss  La  Creevy 
walked  along,  revolving  in  her  mind  various  genteel  forms 
and  elegant  turns  of  expression,  with  a  view  to  the  selection 
of  the  very  best  in  which  to  couch  her  communication,  she 
cogitated  a  good  deal  upon  the  probable  causes  of  her  young 
friend's  indisposition. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  it,"  said  Miss  La  Creex^. 
"  Her  eyes  were  decidedly  red  last  night.  She  said  she  had 
a  head-ache  ;  head-aches  don't  occasion  red  eyes.  She  must 
have  been  crying." 

Arriving  at  this  conclusion,  which,  indeed,  she  had  estab- 
lished to  her  perfect  satisfaction  on  the  previous  evening.  Miss 
La  Creevy  went  on  to  consider — as  she  had  done  nearly  all 
night — what  new  cause  of  unhappiness  her  young  friend  could 
possibly  have  had. 

"  I  can't  think  of  anything,"  said  the  little  portrait  painter. 
"  Nothing  at  all,  unless  it  was  the  behavior  of  that  old  bear. 
Cross  to  her  I  suppose  ?     Unpleasant  brute  !  " 

Relieved  by  this  expression  of  opinion,  albeit  it  was  vented 


248  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

upon  empty  air,  Miss  La  Creevy  trotted  on  to  Madame  Man- 
talini's ;  and  being  informed  that  the  governing  power  was  not 
yet  out  of  bed,  requested  an  interview  with  the  second  in  com- 
mand ;  whereupon  Miss  Knag  appeared. 

"  So  far  as  1  am  concerned,"  said  Miss  Knag,  when  the 
message  had  been  deHvered,  with  many  ornaments  of  speech  \ 
"  I  could  spare  Miss  Nickleby  for  evermore." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  ma'am  !  "  rejoined  Miss  La  Creevy,  highly 
offended.  "  But,  you  see,  you  are  not  mistress  of  the  busi- 
ness, and  therefore  it's  of  no  great  consequence." 

"  Very  good,  ma'am,"  said  Miss  Knag.  "  Have  you  any 
further  commands  for  me  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not,  ma'am,"  rejoined  Miss  La  Creevj'. 
"  Then  good  morning,  ma'am,"  said  Miss  Knag. 
"  Good  morning  to  you,  ma'am  ;  and  many  obligations  for 
your  extreme  politeness  and  good  breeding,"  rejoined  Miss 
La  Creevy. 

Thus  terminating  the  interview  during  which  both  ladies 
had  trembled  very  much,  and  been  marvellously  polite — cer- 
tain indications  that  they  were  within  an  inch  of  a  ver)'  des- 
perate quarrel — Miss  La  Creevy  bounced  out  of  the  room,  and 
into  the  street. 

"  I  wonder  who  that  is,"  said  the  queer  little  soul  "  A 
nice  person  to  know,  I  should  think  !  I  wish  I  had  the  paint- 
ing of  her :  Fd  do  her  justice."  So,  feeling  quite  satisfied 
that  she  had  said  a  very  cutting  thing  at  Miss  Knag's  expense, 
Miss  La  Creevy  had  a  hearty  laugh,  and  went  home  to  break- 
fast, in  great  good  humor. 

Here  was  one  of  the  advantages  of  having  lived  alone  so 
long !  The  little  bustling,  active,  cheerful  creature,^  existed 
entirely  within  herself,  talked  to  herself,  made  a  confidant  of 
herself,  was  as  sarcastic  as  she  could  be,  on  people  who  of- 
fended her,  by  herself  ;  pleased  herself,  and  did  no  harm.  If 
she  indulged  in  scandal,  nobody's  reputation  suffered  ;  and  if 
she  enjoyed  a  little  bit  of  revenge,  no  li\  ing  soul  was  one 
atom  the  worse.  One  of  the  many  to  whom,  from  straitened 
circumstances,  a  consequent  inability  to  form  the  associations 
they  would  wish,  and  a  disinclination  to  mix  with  the  society 
they  could  obtain  London  is  as ,  complete  a  solitude  as  the 
plains  nf .Syria,  the;  bumble. artist  had  pursued  her  lonely,  but 
contented  way  for  many  years  ;  and,  until  the  peculiar  nilsj^r- 
tunes  of  the  Nickleby  family  attracted  her  attention,  had  made 
no  friends,  though  brimful  of   the  friendliest  feelings  to  all 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


249 


niankind.  There  are  many  warm  Iiearts  in  the  same  solitary- 
guise  as  piHjr  liulc  }ili.^s  La  C'rcc\y's. 

Tin, \ ever,  that's  neitlier  here  nor  there,  just  now.  She 
went  Jiume  to  breakfast,  and  had  scarcely  caught  the  full  fla- 
vor of  her  first  sip  of  tea,  when  the  servant  announced  a  gen- 
tleman, whereat  Miss  La  Creevy,  at  once  imagining  a  new 
sitter,  transfixed  by  admiration  at  the  street-door  case,  was  in 
unspeakable  consternation  at  the  presence  of  the  tea-things. 

"  Here,  take  'em  away  ;  run  with  'em  into  the  bed-room  ; 
anywhere,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy.  "Dear,  dear;  to  think 
that  I  should  be  late  on  this  particular  morning,  of  all  others, 
after  being  ready  for  three  weeks  by  half-past  eight  o'clock, 
and  not  a  soul  coming  near  the  place  !  " 

"  Don't  let  me  put  you  out  of  the  way,"  said  a  voice  Miss 
La  Creevy  knew.  "  I  told  the  servant  not  to  mention  my 
name,  because  I  wished  to  surprise  you." 

"  Mr.  Nicholas  !  "  cried  Miss  La  Creevy,  starting  in  great 
astonishment. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  me,  I  see,"  replied  Nicholas,  ex- 
tending his  hand. 

"  Whv,  I  think  I  should  even  have  known  vow  if  I  had 
met  you  in  the  street,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  with  a  smile. 
"  Hannah,  another  cup  and  saucer.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what, 
young  man  ;  I'll  trouble  you  not  to  repeat  the  impertinence 
you  were  guilty  of,  on  the  morning  you  went  away." 

"  You  would  not  be  very  angiy,  would  you .'' "  asked 
Nicholas. 

"  Wouldn't  I !  "  said  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  You  had  better 
try  ;  that's  all  !  " 

Nicholas,  with  becoming  gallantry,  immediately  took  Miss 
La  Creevy  at  her  word,  who  uttered  a  faint  scream  and  slapped 
his  face  ;  but  it  was  not  a  very  hard  slap,  and  that's  the  truth. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  rude  creature  !  "  exclaimed  Miss  La 
Creevy. 

"  You  told  me  to  trv,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Well ;  but  I  was  speaking  ironically,"  rejoined  Miss  La 
Creevy. 

"Oh!  that's  another  thing,"  said  Nicholas;  "  you  should 
have  told  me  that,  too." 

"  I  dare  say  you  didn't  know,  indeed  !  "  retorted  Miss  La 
Creevy.  "  But,  now  I  look  at  you  again,  you  seem  thinner 
than  when  I  saw  you  last,  and  your  face  is  haggard  and  pale. 
And  how  come  you  to  have  left  Yorkshire  .''  " 


250  NICHOLAS  AriCKLEBY. 

She  stopped  here  ;  for  there  was  so  much  heart  in  her  al- 
tered tone  and  manner,  that  Nicholas  was  quite  moved. 

"  I  need  look  somewhat  changed,"  he  said,  after  a  short 
silence  ;  "  for  I  have  undergone  some  suffering,  both  of  mind 
and  body,  since  I  left  London.  I  have  been  very  poor,  too, 
and  have  even  suffered  from  want." 

"  Good  Heaven,  Mr.  Nicholas  ! "  exclaimed  Miss  La 
Creevy,  "  what  are  you  telling  me  ?  " 

"  Nothing  which  need  distress  you  quite  so  much,"  an- 
swered Nicholas,  with  a  more  sprightly  air  ;  "  neither  did  I 
come  here,  to  bewail  my  lot,  but  on  matter  more  to  the  pur- 
pose. I  wish  to  meet  my  uncle  face  to  face.  I  should  tell 
you  that  first." 

"  Then  all  I  have  to  say  about  that  is,"  interposed  Miss  La 
Creevy,  "  that  I  don't  envy  you  your  taste  ;  and  that  sitting 
\A  the  same  room  with  his  very  boots,  would  put  me  out  of 
humor  for  a  fortnight." 

"  In  the  main,"  said  Nicholas,  "there  maybe  no  great 
difference  of  opinion  between  you  and  me,  so  far  ;  but  you 
will  understand,  that  I  desire  to  confront  him,  to  justify  my- 
self, and  to  cast  his  duplicity  and  malice  in  his  throat." 

"  That's  quite  another  matter,"  rejoined  Miss  La  Creevy. 
"  Heaven  forgive  me  ;  but  I  shouldn't  cvj  my  eyes  quite  out 
of  my  head,  if  they  choked  him.     Well  1  " 

"  To  this  end,  I  called  upon  him  this  morning,"  said  Nich- 
olas. "  He  only  returned  to  town  on  Saturday,  and  I  knew 
nothing  of  his  arrival  until  late  last  night." 

"  And  did  you  see  him  ?  "  asked  Miss  La  Creevy. 

"  No,"  replied  Nicholas.     "  He  had  gone  out." 

"  Hah  !  "  said  Miss  La  Creevy ;  "on  some  kind,  charitable 
business,  I  dare  say." 

"  I  have  reason  to  believe,"  pursued  Nicholas,  "from  what 
has  been  told  me,  by  a  friend  of  mine  who  is  acquainted  with 
his  movements,  that  he  intends  seeing  my  mother  and  sister 
to-dav,  and  s-iving  them  his  version  of  the  occurrences  that 
have  befallen  me.     I  will  meet  him  there." 

'  That's  right,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  rubbing  her  hands. 
"And  yet,  I  don't  know,"  she  added,  "there  is  much  to  be 
thought  of — others  to  be  considered." 

"  I  have  considered  others,"  rejoined  Nicholas  :  "but  as 
honesty  and  honor  are  both  at  issue,  nothing  shall  deter  me." 

"  You  should  know  best,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy. 

"  In  this  case  I  hope  so,"  answered  Nicholas.     "And  all 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


251 


I  want  you  to  do  for  me,  is,  to  prepare  them  for  my  coming. 
They  think  me  a  long  way  off,  and  if  1  went  wholly  unexpect- 
ed, I  should  frighten  them.  If  you  can  spare  time  to  tell  them 
that  you  have  seen  me,  and  that  I  shall  be  with  them  in  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  afterwards,  you  will  do  me  a  great  service." 

"  I  wish   I  could  do  you,  or  any  of  you,  a  greater,"  said 
Miss  La  Creevy  ;  "  but  the_power  to  serve,  is  as  seldom  joined 


TalKmg  on  very  fast  and  very  much,  Miss  La  Creevy 
finished  her  breakfast  with  great  expedition,  put  away  the  tea- 
caddy  and  hid  the  key  under  the  fender,  resumed  her  bonnet, 
and,  taking  Nicholas's  arm,  sallied  forth  at  once  into  the  city. 
Nicholas  left  her  near  the  door  of  his  mother's  house,  and 
promised  to  return  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

It  so  chanced  that  Ralph  Nickleby,  at  length  seeing  fit, 
for  his  own  purposes,  to  communicate  the  atrocities  of  which 
Nicholas  had  been  guilty,  had  (instead  of  first  proceeding  to 
another  quarter  of  the  town  on  business,  as  Newman  Noggs 
supposed  he  would)  gone  straight  to  his  sister-in-law.  Hence, 
when  Miss  La  Creevy,  admitted  by  a  girl  who  was  cleaning 
the  house,  made  her  wav  to  the  sitting-room,  she  found  Mrs. 
Nickleby  and  Kate  in  tears,  and  Ralph  just  concluding  his 
statement  of  his  nephew's  misdemeanors.  Kate  beckoned 
her  not  to  retire,  and  Miss  La  Creevy  took  a  seat  in  silence. 

"  You  are  here  already,  are  you,  my  gentleman  ?  "  thought 
the  little  woman.  "  Then  he  shall  announce  himself,  and  see 
what  effect  that  has  on  you." 

"  This  is  pretty,"  said  Ralph,  folding  up  Miss  Squeers's 
note  ;  "  very  pretty.  I  recommended  him — against  all  my 
jDrevious  conviction,  for  I  knew  he  would  never  do  any  good — 
to  a  man  with  whom,  behaving  himself  properly,  he  might 
have  remained,  in  comfort,  for  years.  What  is  the  result  ? 
Conduct,  for  which  he  might  hold  up  his  hand  at  the  Old 
Bailey." 

"  I  never  will  believe  it,"  said  Kate,  indignantly  ;  "  never. 
It  is  some  base  conspiracy,  which  carries  its  own  falsehood 
with  it." 

"  My  dear "  said  Ralph,  "  you  wrong  the  worthy  man. 
These  are  not  inventions.  The  man  is  assaulted,  your  brother 
is  not  to  be  found  ;  this  boy,  of  whom  they  speak,  goes  with 
him — remember,  remember." 

"  It  is  impossible,"  said  Kate.  "  Nicholas  ! — and  a  thief, 
too  !     Mamma,  how  can  you  sit  and  hear  such  statements  ?  " 


252  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Poor  Mrs.  Nickleby,  who  had,  at  no  time,  been  remarkable 
for  the  possession  of  a  very  clear  understanding,  and  who  had 
been  reduced  by  the  late  changes  in  her  aifairs  to  a  most 
complicated  state  of  perplexity,  made  no  other  reply  to  this 
earnest  remonstrance  than  exclaiming  from  behind  a  mass  of 
pocket-handkerchief,  that  she  never  could  have  believed  it — 
thereby  most  ingeniously  leaving  her  hearers  to  suppose  that 
she  did  believe  it. 

"  It  would  be  my  duty,  if  he  came  in  my  way,  to  deliver 
him  up  to  justice,"  said  Ralph,  "  my  bounden  duty  ;  I  should 
have  no  other  course,  as  a  man  of  the  world  and  a  man  of 
business,  to  pursue.  And  yet,"  said  Ralph,  speaking  in  a 
very  marked  manner,  and  looking  furtively,  but  fixedly,  at 
Kate,  "  and  yet  I  would  not.  I  would  spare  the  feelings  of 
his — of  his  sister.  And  his  mother  of  course,"  added  Ralph, 
as  though  by  afterthought,  and  with  far  less  emphasis. 

Kate  very  well  understood  that  this  was  held  out  as  an 
additional  inducement  to  her,  to  preserve  the  strictest  silence 
regarding  the  events  of  the  preceding  night.  She  looked 
involuntarily  towards  Ralph  as  he  ceased  to  speak,  but  he 
had  turned  his  eyes  another  way,  and  seemed  for  the  moment 
quite  unconscious  of  her  presence. 

"  Everj'thing,"  said  Ralph,  after  a  long  silence,  broken 
only  by  Mrs.  Nickleby's  sobs,  "everything  combines  to  prove 
the  truth  of  this  letter,  if  indeed  there  were  any  possibility  of 
disputing  it.  Do  innocent  men  steal  away  from  the  sight  of 
honest  folks  and  skulk  in  hiding-places,  like  outlaws .-'  Do 
innocent  men  inveigle  nameless  vagabonds,  and  prowl  with 
them  about  the  country  as  idle  robbers  do  ?  Assault,  riot, 
theft,  what  do  you  call  these  .''  " 

"A  lie  !  "  cried  a  voice,  as  the  door  was  dashed  open,  and 
Nicholas  came  into  the  room. 

In  the  first  moment  of  surprise,  and  possibly  of  alarm, 
Ralph  rose  from  his  seat,  and  fell  back  a  few  paces,  quite 
taken  off  his  guard  by  this  unexpected  apparition.  In  another 
moment,  he  stood,  fixed  and  immovable  with  folded  arms, 
regarding  his  nephew  with  a  scowl  ;  while  Kate  and  Miss 
La  Creevy  threw  themselves  between  the  two,  to  prevent  the 
personal  violence  which  the  fierce  excitement  of  Nicholas 
appeared  to  threaten. 

"  Dear  Nicholas,"  cried  his  sister,  clinging  to  him.  "Be 
calm,  consider " 

"  Consider,  Kate  !  "  cried  Nicholas,  clasping  her  hand  so 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  253 

tight,  in  the  tumult  of  his  anger,  that  she  could  scarcely  bear 
the  pain.  "  When  I  consider  all,  and  think  of  what  has 
passed,  I  need  be  made  of  iron  to  stand  before  him." 

"  Or  bronze,"  said  Ralph  quietly  ■  '.'  there  is  not  hardihood 
enough  in  fiesh  and  blood  to  face  it  out." 

"Oh  dear,  dear !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  that  things  should 
have  come  to  such  a  pass  as  this." 

"Who  speaks  in  a  tone,  as  if  I  had  done  wrong,  and 
brought  disgrace  on  them  ?  "  said  Nicholas,  looking  round. 

"Your  mother,  sir?"  replied  Ralph,  motioning  towards 
her. 

"  Whose  ears  have  been  poisoned  by  you,"  said  Nicholas  ; 
"  by  you — who,  under  pretence  of  deserving  the  thanks  she 
poured  upon  you,  heaped  every  insult,  wrong,  and  indignity, 
upon  my  head.  You,  who  sent  me  to  a  den  where  sordid 
cruelty,  worthy  of  yourself,  runs  wanton,  and  youthful  misery 
stalks  precocious  ;  where  the  hghtness  of  childhood  shrinks 
into  the  heaviness  of  age,  and  its  ever>'  promise  blights,  and 
withers  as  it  grows.  I  call  Heaven  to  witness,"  said  Nicholas, 
looking  eagerly  round,  "  that  I  have  seen  all  this,  and  that  he 
knows  it." 

"  Refute  these  calumnies,"  said  Kate,  "  and  be  more 
patient,  so  that  you  may  give  them  no  advantage.  Tell  us 
what  you  really  did,  and  show  that  they  are  untrue." 

"  Of  what  do  they — or  of  what  does  he — accuse  me  ?  "  said 
Nicholas. 

"  First,  of  attacking  your  master,  and  being  within  an  ace 
of  qualifying  yourself  'to  be  tried  for  murder,"  interposed 
Ralph,  "I  speak  plainly,  young  man,  bluster  as  you  will." 

"  I  interfered,"  said  Nicholas,  "  to  save  a  miserable 
creature  from  the  vilest  cruelty.  In  so  doing.  I  inflicted  such 
punishment  upon  a  wretch  as  he  will  not  readily  forget,  though 
far  less  than  he  deserved  from  me.  If  the  same  scene  were 
renewed  before  me  now,  I  would  take  the  same  part  ;  but  I 
would  strike  harder  and  heavier,  and  brand  him  with  such 
marks  as  he  should  carry  to  his  grave,  go  to  it  when  he 
would." 

"  You   hear  ? "    said    Ralph,    turning   to    Mrs.    Nickleby. 

"  Penitence,  this  !  " 

"  Oh  dear  me  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  I  don't  know  what 
to  think,  I  really  don't." 

"  Do  not  speak  just  now,  mamma,  I  entreat  you."  said 
Kate.     "  Dear  Nicholas,  I  only  tell  you,  that  you  may  know 


254  NICHOLAS  NICKL EB  Y. 

what  wickedness  can  prompt,  but  they  accuse  you  of — a  ring 
is  missing,  and  they  dare  to  say  that — " 

"The  woman,"  said  Nicholas,  haughtily,  "the  wife  of  the 
fellow  from  whom  these  charges  come,  dropped — as  I  suppose 
— a  worthless  ring  among  some  clothes  of  mine,  early  in  the 
morning  on  which  I  left  the  house.  At  least  I  know  that 
she  was  in  the  bedroom  where  they  lay,  struggling  with  an  un- 
happy child,  and  that  I  found  it  when  I  opened  my  bun- 
dle on  the  road.  I  returned  it,  at  once,  by  coach,  and  they 
have  it  now." 

"  I  knew,  I  knew,"  said  Kate  looking  towards  her  uncle. 
"  About  this  boy,  love,  in  whose  company  they  say  you  left  ?  " 

"  The  boy,  a  silly,  helpless  creature,  from  brutality  and 
hard  usage,  is  with  me  now,"  rejoined  Nicholas. 

"  You  hear  ?  "  said  Ralph,  appealing  to  the  mother  again, 
"  everything  proved  even  upon  his  own  confession.  Do  you 
choose  to  restore  that  boy,  sir  ?  " 

"No.     I  do  not,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  You  do  not  .-*  "  sneered  Ralph. 

"No,"  repeated  Nicholas,  "  not  to  the  man  with  whom  I 
found  him.  I  would  that  I  knew  on  whom  he  has  the  claim  of 
birth :  I  might  wring  something  from  his  sense  of  shame,  if 
he  were  dead  to  every  tie  of  nature." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Ralph.  "  Now,  sir,  will  you  hear  a  word 
or  two  from  me  ?  " 

"  You  can  speak  when,  and  what  you  please,"  replied  Nich- 
olas, embracing  his  sister.  "  1  take  little  heed  of  what  you 
say  or  threaten." 

"  Mighty  well,  sir,"  retorted  Ralph  ;  "  but  perhaps  it  may 
concern  others,  who  may  think  it  worth  their  while  to  listen  and 
consider  what  I  tell  them.  I  will  address  your  mother,  sir, 
who  knows  the  world." 

"  Ah  !  and  I  only  too  dearly  wish  I  didn't,"  sobbed  Mrs. 
Nickleby. 

There  really  was  no  necessity  for  the  good  lady  to  be  much 
distressed  upon  this  particular  head  ;  the  extent  of  her  worldly 
knowledge  being,  to  say  the  least,  very  questionable  ;  and  so 
Ralph  seemed  to  think,  for  he  smiled  as  she  spoke.  He  then 
glanced  steadily  at  her  and  Nicholas  by  turns,  as  he  delivered 
himself  in  these  words  : 

"Of  what  I  have  done,  or  what  I  meant  to  do  for  you 
ma'am  and  my  niece,  I  say  not  one  syllable.  1  held  out 
no  promise,  and  leave  you  to  judge  for  yourself.     1  hold  out 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  255 

no  threat  now,  but  I  say  that  this  boy,  headstrong,  wilful,  and 
disorderly  as  he  is,  should  not  have  one  penny  of  my  money, 
or  one  crust  of  my  bread,  or  one  grasp  of  my  hand  to  save 
him  from  the  loftiest  gallows  in  all  Europe.  I  will  not  meet 
him,  come  where  he  comes,  or  hear  his  name.  I  will  not  help 
him,  or  those  who  help  him.  With  a  full  knowledge  of  what 
he  brought  upon  you  by  so  doing,  he  has  come  back  in  his 
selfish  sloth,  to  be  an  aggravation  of  your  wants,  and  a  burden 
upon  his  sister's  scanty  wages.  I  regret  to  leave  you,  and 
more  to  leave  her,  now,  but  I  will  not  encourage  this  com- 
pound of  meanness  and  cruelty,  and,  as  1  will  not  ask  you  to 
renounce  him,  I  see  you  no  more." 

If  Ralph  had  not  known  and  felt  his  power  in  wounding 
those  he  hated,  his  glance  at  Nicholas  would  have  shown  it 
hinV  in  all  its  force,  as  he  proceeded  in  the  above  address. 
Innocent  as  the  young  man  was,  of  all  wrong,  every  artful  in- 
sinuation stung,  every  well-considered  sarcasm  cut  him  to  the 
quick  ;  and  when  Ralph  noted  his  pale  face  and  quivering 
lip,  he  hugged  himself  to  mark  how  well  he  had  chosen  the 
taunts  best  calculated  to  strike  deep  into  the  young  and  ardent 
spirit. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  I  know  you  have 
been  very  good  to  us,  and  meant  to  do  a  good  deal  for  my 
dear  daughter.  I  am  quite  sure  of  that  ;  I  know  you  did, 
and  it  was  veiy  kind  of  you,  having  her  at  your  house  and  all 
— and  of  course  it  would  have  been  a  great  thing  for  her  and 
for  me  too.  But  I  can't,  you  know,  brother-in-law,  I  can't  re- 
nounce my  own  son,  even  if  he  has  done  all  you  say  he  has — 
it's  not  possible  ;  I  couldn't  do  it ;  so  we  must  go  to  rack  and 
ruin,  Kate,  my  dear.  I  can  bear  it,  I  dare  say."  Pouring  forth 
these  and  a  perfectly  wonderful  train  of  other  disjointed  ex- 
pressions of  regret  which  no  mortal  power  but  Mrs.  Nickleby's 
could  ever  have  strung  together,  that  lady  wrung  her  hands, 
and  her  tears  fell  faster. 

"Why  do  you  say  '  //"Nicholas  has  done  what  they  say  he 
has,'  mamma  ?  "  asked  Kate  with  honest  anger.  "  You  know 
he  has  not." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think,  one  way  or  other,  my 
dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  ;  "  Nicholas  is  so  violent,  and  your 
uncle  has  so  much  composure,  that  I  can  only  hear  what  he 
says,  and  not  what  Nicholas  does.  Never  mind,  don't  let  us 
talk  any  more  about  it.  We  can  go  to  the  \A'orkhouse,  or  the 
Refuge  for  the  Destitute,  or  the  Magdalen  Hospital,  I  dare 


2^6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

say  :  and  the  sooner  we  go  the  better."  With  this  extraor- 
dinary jumble  of  charitable  institutions,  Mrs.  Nickleby  again 
gave  way  to  her  tears. 

"  Stay,"  said  Nicholas,  as  Ralph  turned  to  go.  "  You 
need  not  leave  this  place  sir,  for  it  will  be  relieved  of  my  pres- 
ence in  one  minute,  and  it  will  be  long,  very  long  before  I 
darken  these  doors  again." 

"  Nicholas,"  cried  Kate,  throwing  herself  on  her  brother's 
shoulder,  "  do  not  say  so.  My  dear  brother,  you  will  break 
my  heart.  Mamma,  speak  to  him.  Do  not  mind  her,  Nich- 
olas ;  she  does  not  mean  it,  you  should  know  her  better.  Uncle, 
somebody,  for  Heaven's  sake  speak  to  him." 

"  I  never  meant,  Kate,"  said  Nicholas  tenderly,  "  I  never 
meant  to  stay  among  you  ;  think  better  of  me  than  to  suppose 
it  possible.  I  may  turn  my  back  on  this  town  a  few  hours 
sooner  than  I  intended,  but  what  of  that  ?  We  shall  not  for- 
get each  other  apart,  and  better  daj^s  will  come  when  we  shall 
part  no  more.  Be  a  woman  Kate,"  he  whispered,  proudly, 
"  and  do  not  make  me  one  while  he  looks  on." 

"No,  no,  I  will  not,"  said  Kate  eagerly,  "but  you  will  not 
leave  us.  Oh  !  think  of  all  the  happy  days  we  have  had  to- 
gether, befcra  these  terrible  misfortunes  came  upon  us  ;  of  all 
the  comfort  and  happiness  of  home,  and  the  trials  we  have  to 
bear  now  ;  of  our  having  no  protector  under  all  the  slights  and 
wrongs  that  poverty  so  much  favors,  and  you  cannot  leave  us 
to  bear  them  alone,  without  one  hand  to  help  us." 

"  You  will  be  helped  when  I  am  away,"  replied  Nicholas, 
hurriedly.  "  I  am  no  help  to  you,  no  protector  ;  \  should 
bring  you  nothing  but  sorrow,  and  want,  and  suffering.  My 
own  mother  sees  it,  and  her  fondness  and  fears  for  you  point 
to  the  course  that  I  should  take.  And  so  all  good  angels 
bless  you,  Kate,  till  I  can  carry  you  to  some  home  of  mine, 
where  we  may  revive  the  happiness  denied  to  us  now,  and  talk 
of  these  trials  as  of  things  gone  by.  Do  not  keep  me  here, 
but  let  me  go  at  once.     There.     Dear  girl — dear  girl." 

The  grasp  which  had  detained  him,  relaxed,  and  Kate 
swooned  in  his  arms.  Nicholas  stooped  over  her,  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  placing  her  gently  in  a  chair,  confided  her  to 
their  honest  friend. 

"  I  need  not  entreat  your  symyathy,"  he  said,  wringing  her 
hand,  "for  I  know  your  nature.  You  will  never  forget 
them." 

He  stepped  up  to  Ralph,  who  remained  in  the  same  attitude 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  257 

which  he  had  preserved  throughout  the  interview,  and  moved 
not  a  finger. 

"  Whatever  step  you  take,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  inaudi- 
ble beyond  themselves,  "  I  shall  keep  a  strict  account  of.  I 
leave  them  to  you  at  your  desire.  There  will  be  a  day  of 
reckoning  sooner  or  later,  and  it  will  be  a  heavy  one  for  you  if 
they  are  wronged." 

Ralph  did  not  allow  a  muscle  of  his  face  to  indicate  that 
he  heard  one  word  of  this  parting  address.  He  hardly 
knew  that  it  was  concluded,  and  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  scarcely 
made  up  her  mind  to  detain  her  son  by  force  if  necessary, 
when  Nicholas  was  gone. 

As  he  hurried  through  the  streets  to  his  obscure  lodging 
seeking  to  keep  pace,  as  it  were,  with  the  rapidity  of  the 
thoughts  which  crowded  upon  him,  many  doubts  and  hesita- 
tions arose  in  his  mind,  and  almost  tempted  him  to  return. 
But  what  would  they  gain  by  this  .-•  Supposing  he  were  to  put 
Ralph  Nickleby  at  defiance,  and  were  even  fortunate  enough 
to  obtain  some  small  employment,  his  being  with  them  could 
only  render  their  present  condition  worse,  and  might  greatly 
impair  their  future  prospects  ;  for  his  mother  had  spoken  of 
some  new  kindnesses  towards  Kate  which  she  had  not  denied. 
"No,"  thought  Nicholas,  "  I  have  acted  for  the  best." 

But,  before  he  had  gone  five  hundred  yards,  some  other 
and  different  feeling  would  come  upon  him,  and  then  he 
would  lag  again,  and  pulling  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  give  way 
to  the  melancholy  reflections  which  pressed  thickly  upon  him. 
To  have  committed  no  fault,  and  yet  to  be  so  entirely  alone 
in  the  world  ;  to  be  separated  from  the  only  persons  he  loved, 
and  to  be  proscribed  like  a  criminal,  when  six  months  ago  he 
had  been  surrounded  by  every  comfort,  and  looked  up  to,  as 
the  chief  hope  of  his  family — this  was  hard  to  bear.  He  had 
not  deserved  it  either.  Well,  there  was  comfort  in  that ; 
and  poor  Nicholas  would  brighten  up  again,  to  be  again  de- 
pressed, as  his  quickly  shifting  thoughts  jj resented  every  va- 
riety of  light  and  shade  before  him. 

Undergoing  these  alternations  of  hope  and  misgiving, 
which  no  one,  placed  in  a  situation  of  ordinary  trial,  can  fail 
to  have  experienced,  Nicholas  at  length  reached  his  poor 
room,  where,  no  longer  borne  up  by  the  excitement  which 
had  hitherto  sustained  him,  but  depressed  by  the  revulsion  of 
feeling  it  left  behind,  he  threw  himself  on  the  bed,  and  turn- 

17 


258 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


ing  his  face  to  the  wall,  gave  free  vent  to  the  emotions  he  had 
so  long  stifled. 

He.  had  not  heard  anybody  enter,  and  was  unconscious  of 
the  presence  of  Smike,  until,  happening  to  raise  his  head,  he 
saw  him,  standing  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  looking 
wistfully  towards  him.  He  withdrew  his  eyes  when  he  saw 
that  he  was  observed,  and  affected  to  be  busied  with  some 
scanty  preparations  for  dinner. 

"Well,  Smike,"  said  Nicholas,  as  cheerfully  as  he  could 
speak,  "  let  me  hear  what  new  acquaintances  you  have  made 
this  morning,  or  what  new  wonder  you  have  found  out,  in  the 
compass  of  this  street  and  the  next  one." 

"  No,"  said  Smike,  shaking  his  head  mournfully  ;  "  I  must 
talk  of  something  else  to-day." 

"Of  what  you  like,"  replied  Nicholas,  good-humoredly. 

"  Of  this  ;  "  said  Smike.  "  I  know  you  are  unhappy,  and 
have  got  into  great  trouble  by  bringing  me  away.  I  ought  to 
have  known  that  and  stopped  behind — I  would,  indeed,  if  I 
had  thought  it  then.  You — you — are  not  rich  :  you  have  not 
enough  for  yourself,  and  I  should  not  be  here.  You  grow," 
said  the  lad,  laying  his  hand  timidly  on  that  of  Nicholas,  "you 
grow  thinner  every  day;  your  cheek  is  paler,  and  your  eye 
more  sunk.  Indeed  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  so,  and  think 
how  I  am  burdening  you.  I  tried  to  go  away  to-day,  but  the 
thought  of  your  kind  face  drew  me  back.  I  could  not  leave 
you  without  a  word."  The  poor  fellow  could  say  no  more, 
for  his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  his  voice  was  gone. 

"The  word  which  separates  us,"  said  Nicholas,  grasping 
him  heartily  by  the  shoulder,  "  shall  never  be  said  by  me,  for 
you  are  my  only  comfort  and  stay.  I  would  not  lose  you 
now,  Smike,  for  all  the  world  could  give.  The  thought  of 
you  has  upheld  me  through  all  I  have  endured  to-day,  and 
shall,  through  fifty  times  such  trouble.  Give  me  your  hand. 
My  heart  is  linked  to  yours.  We  will  journey  from  this  place 
together,  before  the  week  is  out.  What,  if  I  am  steeped  in 
poverty  ?     You  lighten  it,  and  we  will  be  poor  together." 


NICHOLAS  NJCKLEBY. 


259 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MADAME  MANTALINI  FINDS  HERSELF  IN  A  SITUATION  OF 
SOME  DIFFICULTY,  AND  MISS  NICKLEBY  FINDS  HERSELF 
IN    NO    SITUATION    AT    ALL. 

The  agitation  she  had  undergone,  rendered  Kate  Nickleby 
unable  to  resume  her  duties  at  the  dress-maker's  for  three 
days,  at  the  expiration  of  which  interval  she  betook  herself  at 
the  accustomed  hour,  and  with  languid  steps,  to  the  temple 
of  fashion  where  Madame  Mantalini  reigned  paramount  and 
supreme. 

The  ill  will  of  Miss  Knag  had  lost  nothing  of  its  virulence, 
in  the  interval.  The  young  ladies  still  scrupulously  shrunk 
from  all  companionship  with  their  denounced  associate  ;  and 
when  that  exemplary  female  arrived  a  few  minutes  afterwards, 
she  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal  the  displeasure  with  which  she 
regarded  Kate's  return. 

''  Upon  my  word !  "  said  Miss  Knag,  as  the  satellites 
flocked  round,  to  relieve  her  of  her  bonnet  and  shawl ;  "  I 
should  have  thought  some  people  would  have  had  spirit 
enough  to  stop  away  altogether,  when  they  know  what  an  in- 
cumbrance their  presence  is  to  right-minded  persons.  But  it's 
a  queer  world  ;  oh !  it's  a  queer  world  !  " 

Miss  Knag,  having  passed  this  comment  on  the  world,  in 
the  tone  in  which  most  people  do  pass  comments  on  the  world 
when  they  are  out  of  temper,  that  is  to  say,  as  if  they  by  no 
means  belonged  to  it,  concluded  by  heaving  a  sigh,  where- 
with she  seemed  meekly  to  compassionate  the  wickedness  of 
mankind. 

The  attendants  were  not  slow  to  echo  the  sigh,  and  IVIiss 
Knag  was  apparently  on  the  eve  of  favoring  them  with  some 
further  moral  reflections,  when  the  voice  of  Madame  Manta- 
lini, conveyed  through  the  speaking-tube,  ordered  Miss  Nick- 
elby  up  stairs  to  assist  in  the  arrangement  of  the  show-room ; 
a  distinction  which  caused  Miss  Knag  to  toss  her  head  so 
much,  and  bite  her  lip  so  hard,  that  her  powers  of  conversa- 
tion were,  for  the  time,  annihilated. 


26o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Well,  Miss  Nickleby,  child,"  said  Madame  Mantalini, 
when  Kate  presented  herself ;  "  are  you  quite  well  again  ? " 

"  A  great  deal  better,  thank  you,"  replied  Kate. 

"I  wish  I  could  say  the  same,"  remarked  Madame  Man- 
talini, seating  herself  with  an  air  of  weariness. 

"  Are  you  ill .''  "  asked  Kate.     "  I  am  very  sorry  for  that." 

"Not  exactly  ill,  but  worried,  child — worried." 

"  I  am  still  more  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Kate,  gently. 
*'  Bodily  illness  is  more  easy  to  bear,  than  mental." 

"Ah  land  it's  much  easier  to  talk  than  to  bear  either," 
said  Madame,  rubbing  her  nose  with  much  irritability  of  man- 
ner. "  There,  get  to  your  work,  child,  and  put  the  things  in 
order,  do." 

While  Kate  was  wondering  within  herself  what  these  symp- 
toms of  unusual  vexation  portended,  Mr.  Mantalini  put  the 
tips  of  his  whiskers,  and.  by  degrees,  his  head,  through  the 
half-opened  door,  and  cried  in  a  soft  voice — 

"  Is  my  life  and  soul  there  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  his  wife. 

"  How  can  it  say  so,  when  it  is  blooming  in  the  front  room 
like  a  little  rose  in  a  demnition  flower-pot .''  "  urged  Mantalini, 
"  May  its  poppet  come  in  and  talk  ?  " 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Madame;  "you  know  I  never 
allow  you  here.     Go  along  !  " 

The  poppet,  however,  encouraged  perhaps  by  the  relenting 
tone  of  this  reply,  ventured  to  rebel,  and  stealing  into  the 
room,  made  towards  Madame  Mantalini  on  tiptoe,  blowing  her 
a  kiss  as  he  came  along. 

"  Why  will  it  vex  itself,  and  twist  its  little  face  into  be- 
witching nutcrackers  ?  "  said  Mantalini,  putting  his  left  arm 
round  the  waist'  of  his  life  and-  soul,  and  drawing  her  towards 
him  with  his  right. 

"Oh  !  I  can't  bear  you,"  replied  his  wife. 

"Not — eh,  not  bear  w^ .'' "  exclaimed  Mantalini.  "Fibs, 
fibs.  It  couldn't  be.  There's  not  a  woman  alive,  that  could 
tell  me  such  a  thing  to  my  face — to  my  own  face."  Mr. 
Mantalini  stroked  his  chin  as  he  said  this,  and  glanced  com- 
placently at  an  opposite  mirror. 

"  Such  destructive  extravagance,"  reasoned  his  wife,  in  a 
low  tone. 

"  All  in  its  joy  at  having  gained  such  a  lovely  creature, 
such  a  little  Venus,  such  a  demd  enchanting,  bewitching, 
engrossing,  captivating  little  Venus,"  said  Mantalini. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  261 

"  See  what  a  situation  you  have  placed  me  in  !  "  urged 
Madame. 

"  No  harm  will  come,  no  harm  shall  come,  to  its  own  dar- 
ling," rejoined  Mr.  Mantalini.  "  It  is  all  over;  there  will  be 
nothing  the  matter ;  money  shall  be  got  in  ;  and  if  it  don't 
come  in  fast  enough,  old  Nickleby  shall  stump  up  again,  or 
have  his  jugular  separated  if  he  dares  to  vex  and  hurt  the 
little " 

"  Hush  !  "  interposed  Madame.     "  Don't  you  see  t  " 

Mr.  Mantalini,.  who,  in  his  eagerness  to  make  up  matters 
with  his  wife,  had  overlooked,  or  feigned  to  overlook.  Miss 
Nickleby  hitherto,  took  the  hint,  and  laying  his  finger  on  his 
lip,  sunk  his  voice  still  lower.  There  was,  then,  a  great  deal 
of  whispering,  during  which  Madame  Mantalini  appeared  to 
make  reference,  more  than  once,  to  certain  debts  incurred  by 
Mr.  Mantalini  previous  to  her  coverture  ;  and  also  to  an  un- 
expected outlay  of  money  in  payment  of  the  aforesaid  debts  ; 
and  furthermore,  to  certain  agreeable  weaknesses  on  that 
gentleman's  part,  such  as  gaming,  wasting,  idling,  and  a 
tendency  to  horse-flesh  ;  each  of  which  matters  of  accusation 
Mr.  Mantalini  disposed  of,  by  one  kiss  or  more,  as  its  relative 
importance  demanded.  The  upshot  of  it  all,  was,  that  Madame 
Mantalini  was  in  raptures  with  him,  and  that  they  went  up 
stairs  to  breakfast. 

Kate  busied  herself  in  what  she  had  to  do,  and  was  silently 
arranging  the  various  articles  of  decoration  in  the  best  taste 
she  could  display,  when  she  started  to  hear  a  strange  man's 
voice  in  the  room,  and  started  again,  to  observe,  on  looking 
round,  that  a  white  hat,  and  a  red  neckerchief,  and  a  broad 
round  face,  and  a  large  head,  and  part  of  a  green  coat  were  in 
the  room  too. 

"  Don't  alarm  yourself,  Miss,"  said  the  proprietor  of  these 
appearances.  "  I  say  ;  this  here's  the  mantie-making  consarn, 
a'nt  it  ? " 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Kate,  greatly  astonished.  "What  did 
you  want .'' " 

The  stranger  answered  not  ;  but,  first  looking  back,  as 
though  to  beckon  to  some  unseen  person  outside,  came,  very 
deliberately,  into  the  room  and  was  closely  followed  by  a 
little  man  in  brown,  very  much  the  worse  for  wear,  who 
brought  with  him  a  mingled  fumigation  of  stale  tobacco  and 
fresh  onions.  The  clothes  of  this  gentleman  were  much  be- 
speckled  with   flue  :    and   his  shoes,    stockings,  and   nether 


262  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY, 

garments,  from  his  heels  to  the  waist  buttons  of  his  coat  in- 
clusive, were  profusely  embroidered  with  splashes  of  mud, 
caught  a  fortnight  previously — before  the  setting-in  of  the  fine 
weather. 

Kate's  very  natural  impression  was,  that  these  engaging 
individuals  had  called  with  the  view  of  possessing  themselves, 
unlawfully,  of  any  portable  articles  that  chanced  to  strike  their 
fancy.  She  did  not  attempt  to  disguise  her  apprehensions, 
and  made  a  move  towards  the  door. 

"  Wait  a  minnit,"  said  the  man  in  the  green  coat,  closing 
it  softly,  and  standing  with  his  back  against  it.  "  This  is  a 
unpleasant  bisness.     Vere's  your  govvernor  ?  " 

"  My  what — did  you  say  ?  "  asked  Kate,  trembling  ;  for 
she  thought  "  governor  "  might  be  slang  for  watch  or  money. 

"  Mr.  Muntlehiney,"  said  the  man.  "  Wot's  come  on  him  ? 
Is  he  at  home  ?  " 

"  He  is  above  stairs,  I  believe,"  replied  Kate,  a  little  re- 
assured by  this  inquiry.     "  Do  you  Avant  him  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  the  visitor.     "  I  don't  ezactly  want  him,  if 
it's  made  a  favor  on.     You   can  jist  give   him  that  'ere  card, 
and  tell  him  if  he  wants  to  speak  to  me,  and  save  trouble,  here 
^  am  ;  that's  all." 

With  these  words,  the  stranger  put  a  thick  square  card  into 
Kate's  hand,  and,  turning  to  his  friend,  remarked,  with  an 
easy  air,  "  that  the  rooms  was  a  good  high  pitch  ; "  to  which 
the  friend  assented,  adding,  by  way  of  illustration,  "  that  there 
was  lots  of  room  for  a  little  boy  to  grow  up  a  man  in  either  on 
'em,  vithout  much  fear  of  his  ever  bringing  his  head  into  con- 
tract vith  the  ceiling." 

After  rinsfing:  the  bell  which  would  summon  Madame 
Mantalini,  Kate  glanced  at  the  card,  and  saw  that  it  displayed 
the  name  of  "  Scaley,"  together  with  some  other  information 
to  which  she  had  not  had  time  to  refer,  when  her  attention 
was  attracted  by  Mr.  Scaley  himself,  who,  walking  up  to  one 
of  the  cheval  glasses,  gave  it  a  hard  poke  in  the  centre  with 
his  stick,  as  coolly  as  if  it  had  been  made  of  cast  iron. 

"  Good  plate  this  here,  Tix,"  said  Mr.  Scaley  to  his  friend. 

"  Ah  !  "  rejoined  Mr.  Tix,  placing  the  marks  of  his  four 
fingers,  and  a  duplicate  impression  of  his  thumb  on  a  piece  of 
sky-blue  silk  ;  "  and  this  here  article  warn't  made  for  nothing, 
mind  you." 

From  the  silk,  Mr.  Tix  transferred  his  admiration  to  some 
elegant  articles  of  wearing  apparel,  while  Mr.  Scaley  adjusted 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


263 


his  neckcloth,  at  leisure,  before  the  glass,  and  afterwards, 
aided  by  its  reflection,  proceeded  to  the  minute  consideration 
of  a  pimple  on  his  chin  ;  in  which  absorbing  occupation  he 
was  yet  engaged,  when  Madame  Mantalini  entering  the  room, 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  which  roused  him. 

"Oh  !     Is  this  the  missis  ?  "  inquired  Scaley. 

"  It  is  Madame  Mantalini,"  said  Kate. 

"Then,'.'  said  Mr.  Scaley,  producing  a  small  document 
from  his  pocket  and  unfolding  it  very  slowly,  "  this  is  a  writ 
of  execution,  and  if  it's  not  conwenient  to  settle  we'll  go 
over  the  house  at  wunst,  please,  and  take  the  inwentory." 

Poor  Madame  Mantalini  wrung  her  hands  for  grief,  and 
rung  the  b-?ll  for  her  husband  ;  which  done,  she  fell  into  a 
chair  and  a  fainting  fit,  simultaneousl}'.  The  professional 
gentlemen,  however,  were  not  at  all  discomposed  by  this  event, 
for  Mr.  Scaley,  leaning  upon  a  stand  on  which  a  handsome 
dress  was  displayed  (so  that  his  shoulders  appeared  above  it, 
in  nearly  the  same  manner  as  the  shoulders  of  the  lady  for 
whom  it  was  designed  would  have  done  if  she  had  had  it  on), 
pushed  his  hat  on  one  side  and  scratched  his  head  with  per- 
fect unconcern,  while  his  friend  Mr.  Tix,  taking  that  oppor- 
tunity for  a  general  survey  of  the  apartment  preparatoiy  tg 
entering  on  business,  stood  with  his  inventory-book  under  his 
arm,  and  his  hat  in  his  hand,  mentally  occupied  in  putting  a 
price  upon  every  object  within  his  range  of  vision. 

Such  was  the  posture  of  affairs  when  Mr.  Mantalini 
hurried  in  ;  and  as  that  distinguished  specimen  had  had  a 
pretty  extensive  intercourse  with  Mr.  Scaley's  fraternity  in  his 
bachelor  days,  and  was,  besides,  very  far  from  being  taken 
by  surprise  on  the  present  agitating  occasion,  he  merely 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  thrust  his  hands  down  to  the  bottom 
of  his  pockets,  elevated  his  eyebrows,  whistled  a  bar  or  two, 
swore  an  oath  or  two,  and,  sitting  astride  upon  a  chair,  put 
the  best  face  upon  the  matter  with  great  composure  and 
decency. 

"  What's  the  demd  total  ? "  was  the  first  question  he 
asked. 

"  Fifteen  hundred  and  twenty-seven  pound,  four  and  nine- 
pence  ha'penny,"  replied  Mr.  Scaley,  without  moving  a  limb. 

"  The  halfpenny  be  demd,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  impatiently. 

"  By  all  means  if  you  vish  it,"  retorted  Mr.  Scaley  ;  "  and 
the  ninepence." 

"  It  don't  matter  to  us  if  the  fifteen  hundred  and  twenty- 


264  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

seven  pound  went  along  with  it,  that  I  know  on,"   observed 
Mr.  Tix. 

"  Not  a  button,"  said  Scaley. 

"Well  ;"  said  the  same  gentleman,  after  a  pause,  "  Wot's 
to  be  done — anything  ?  Is  it  only  a  small  crack,  or  a  out- 
and-out  smash  ?  A  break-up  of  the  constitootion  is  it — werry 
good.  Then  Mr.  Tom  Tix,  esk-vire,  you  must  inform  your 
angel  wife  and  lovely  family  as  you  won't  sleep  at  home  for 
three  nights  to  come,  along  of  being  in  possession  here. 
Wot's  the  good  of  the  lady  a  fretting  herself  ?  "  continued 
Mr.  Scaley,  as  Madame  Mantalini  sobbed.  "  A  good  half  of 
wot's  here,  isn't  paid  for,  I  des-say,  and  wot  a  consolation 
oughtn't  that  to  be  to  her  feelings  !  " 

With  these  remarks,  combining  great  pleasantry  with  sound 
moral  encouragement  under  difficulties,  Mr.  Scaley  proceeded 
to  take  the  inventory,  in  which  task  he  was  materially  assisted 
by  the  uncommon  tact  and  experience  of  Mr.  Tix,  the  broker. 
"  My  cup  of  happiness's  sweetener,"  said  Mantalini,  ap- 
proaching his  wife  with  a  penitent  air ;  "  will  you  listen  to  me 
for  two  minutes  ?  " 

"  Oh !  don't  speak  to  me,"  replied  his  wife,  sobbing, 
"You  have  ruined  me,  and  that's  enough." 

Mr.  Mantalini,  who  had  doubtless  well  considered  his  part, 
no  sooner  heard  these  words  pronounced  in  a  tone  of  grief 
and  severity,  than  he  recoiled  several  paces,  assumed  an  ex- 
pression of  consuming  mental  agony,  rushed  headlong  from 
the  room,  and  was,  soon  afterwards,  heard  to  slam  the  door 
of  an  up  stairs  dressing-room  with  great  violence. 

"  Miss  Nickleby,"  cried  Madame  Mantalini,  when  this 
sound  met  her  ear,  "make  haste  for  Heaven's  sake,  he  will 
destroy  himself !  I  spoke  unkindly  to  him,  and  he  cannot 
bear  it  from  me.     Alfred,  my  darling  Alfred." 

With  such  exclamations,  she  hurried  up  stairs,  followed  by 
Kate,  who,  although  she  did  not  quite  participate  in  the  fond 
wife's  apprehensions,  was  a  little  flurried,  nevertheless.  The 
dressing-room  door  being  hastily  flung  open,  Mr.  Mantalini 
was  disclosed  to  view,  with  his  shirt-collar  symmetrically 
thrown  back ;  putting  a  line  edge  to  a  breakfast  knife  by 
means  of  his  razor  strop. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mr.  Mantalini,  "  Interrupted  !  "  and  whisk 
went  the  breakfast  knife  into  Mr.  Mantalini's  dressing-gown 
pocket,  while  Mr.  Mantalini's  eyes  rolled  wildly,  and  his  hair 
floating  in  wild  disorder,  mingled  with  his  whiskers. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


265 


"  Alfred,"  cried  his  wife,  flinging  her  arms  about  him,  "  I 
didn't  mean  to  say  it,  I  didn't  mean  to  say  it !  " 

"  Ruined  !  "  cried  Mr.  Mantalini.  "  Have  I  brought  ruin 
upon  the  best  and  purest  creature  that  ever  blessed  a  demni- 
tion  vagabond  !  Demmit,  let  me  go."  At  this  crisis  of  his 
ravings  Mr.  Mantalini  made  a  pluck  at  the  breakfast  knife, 
and  being  restrained  by  his  wife's  grasp,  attempted  to  dash 
his  head  against  the  wall — taking  very  good  care  to  be  at 
least  six  feet  from  it. 

"Compose  yourself,  my  own  angel,"  said  Madame.  "It 
was  nobody's  fault ;  it  was  mine  as  much  as  yours,  we  shall 
do  very  well  yet.     Come,  Alfred,  come." 

Mr.  Mantalini  did  not  think  proper  to  come  to,  all  at 
once  ;  but,  after  calling  several  times  for  poison,  and  request- 
ing some  lady  or  gentleman  to  blow  his  brains  out,  gentler 
feelings  came  upon  him,  and  he  wept  pathetically.  In  this 
softened  frame  of  mind  he  did  not  oppose  the  capture  of  the 
knife — which,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  was  rather  glad  to  be  rid 
of,  as  an  inconvenient  and  dangerous  article  for  a  skirt  pocket 
— and  finally  he  suffered  »himself  to  be  led  away,  by  his  affec- 
tionate partner. 

After  a  delay  of  two  or  three  hours,  the  young  ladies  were 
informed  that  their  ser\'ices  would  be  dispensed  with,  until 
further  notice,  and  at  the  expiration  of  two  days,  the  name 
of  Mantalini  appeared  in  the  list  of  bankrupts  :  Miss  Nickleby 
received  an  intimation  per  post,  the  same  morning,  that  the 
business  would  be,  in  future,  carried  on  under  the  name  of 
Miss  Knag,  and  that  her  assistance  would  no  longer  be  re- 
quired— a  piece  of  intelligence  with  which  Mrs.  Nickleby  was 
no  sooner  made  acquainted,  than  that  good  lady  declared  she 
had  expected  it  all  along,  and  cited  divers  unknown  occasions 
on  which  she  had  prophesied  to  that  precise  effect, 

"And  I  say  again,"  remarked  Mrs.  Nickleby  (who,  it  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  obsen-e,  had  never  said  so  before),  "  I 
say  again,  that  a  milliner's  and  dress-maker's  is  the  \  ery  last 
description  of  business,  Kate,  that  you  should  have  thought 
of  attaching  yourself  to.  I  don't  make  it  a  reproach  to  you, 
my  love  ;  but  still  I  will  say,  that  if  you  had  consulted  your 
mother " 

"Well,  well,  mama,"  said  Kate,  mildly  ;  "what  would  you 
recommend  now  ? " 

"  Recommend  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  isn't  it  obvious, 
my  dear,  that  of  all  occupations  in  this  world  for  a  young  lady 


266  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

situated  as  you  are,  that  of  companion  to  some  amiable  lady 
is  the  very  thing  for  which  your  education,  and  manners,  and 
personal  appearance,  and  everything  else,  exactly  qualify  you  ? 
Did  you  never  hear  your  poor  dear  papa  speak  of  the  young 
lady  who  was  the  daughter  of  the  old  lady  who  boarded  in  the 
same  house  that  he  boarded  in  once,  when  he  was  a  bachelor 
— what  was  her  name  again  ?  I  know  it  began  with  a  B,  and 
ended  with  a  g,  but  whether  it  was  Waters  or — no  it  couldn't 
have  been  that,  either  ;  but  whatever  her  name  was,  don't  you 
know  that  that  young  lady  went  as  companion  to  a  married 
lady  who  died  soon  afterwards,  and  that  she  married  the  hus- 
band, and  had  one  of  the  finest  little  boys  that  the  medical 
man  had  ever  seen — all  within  eighteen  months. 

Kate  knew,  perfectly  well,  that  this  torrent  of  favorable 
recollection  was  occasioned  by  some  opening,  real  or  imagin- 
ar}',  which  her  mother  had  discovered,  in  the  companionship 
walk  of  life.  She  therefore  waited,  very  patiently,  until  all 
reminiscences  and  anecdotes,  bearing  or  not  bearing  upon  the 
subject,  had  been  exhausted,  and  at  last  ventured  to  inquire 
what  discovery  had  been  made.  The  truth  then  came  out. 
Mrs.  Nickleby  had,  that  morning,  had  a  yesterday  newspaper 
of  the  very  first  respectability  from  the  public-house  where  the 
porter  came  from  ;  and  in  this  yesterday's  newspaper  was  an 
advertisement,  couched  in  the  purest  and  most  grammatical 
English,  announcing  that  a  married  lady  was  in  want  of  a  gen- 
teel young  person  as  companion,  and  that  the  married  lady's 
name  and  address  were  to  be  known,  on  application  at  a  cer- 
tain library  at  the  west  end  of  the  town,  therein  mentioned. 

"And  I  say,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Nickleby,  laying  the  paper 
down  in  triumph,  "  that  if  your  uncle  don't  object,  it's  well 
worth  the  trial." 

Kate  was  too  sick  at  heart,  after  the  rough  jostling  she 
had  already  had  with  the  world,  and  really  cared  too  little  at 
the  moment  what  fate  was  reserved  for  her,  to  make  any  ob- 
jection. Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  offered  none,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
highly  approved  of  the  suggestion  ;  neither  did  he  express  any 
great  surprise  at  Madame  Mantalini's  sudden  failure,  indeed 
it  would  have  been  strange  if  he  had,  inasmuch  as  it  had  been 
procured  and  brought  about,  chiefly  by  himself.  So,  the  name 
and  address  were  obtained  without  loss  of  time,  and  Miss 
Nickleby  and  her  mama  went  off  in  quest  of  Mrs.  Wititterly, 
of  Cadogan  Place,  Sloane  Street,  that  same  forenoon. 

Cadogan  Place  is  the  one  slight  bond  that  joins  two  great 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


267 


extremes  ;  it  is  the  connecting-  linl<  between  the  aristocratic 
piil  IljIIIL'IIIs  uf"-Be^-graTr-^'qTtare,  niul  tin:  liailiarism  of  Clielbca. 
It~i>  ill  ^l.-ant:  StiY-ct,  Irmt  not  of  it.  Tlic  people  ia  Cad(iL;'an 
FTace  look  down  upon  Sloane  Street,  and  think  Brompton  low. 
They  affect  fashion  too,  and  wonder  where  the  New  Road  is. 
Not  that  they  claim  to  be  on  precisely  the  same  footing  as  the 
high  folks  of  Belgrave  Square  and  Grosvenor  Place,  but  that 
they  stand,  with  reference  to  them,  rather  in  the  light  of  those 
illegitimate  children  of  the  great  who  are  content  to  boast  of 
their  connections,  although  their  connections  disavow  them. 
Wearing  as  much  as  they  can  of  the  airs  and  semblances  of 
loftiest  rank,  the  people  of  Cadogan  Place  have  the  realities 
of  middle  station.  It  is  the  conductor  which  communicates  to 
the  inhabitants  of  regions  beyond  its  limit,  the  shock  of  pride 
of  birth  and  rank,  which  it  has  not  within  itself,  but  derives 
from  a  fountain-head  beyond  ;  or,  like  the  ligament  which 
unites  the  Siamese  twins,  it  contains  something  of  the  life  and 
essence  of  two  distinct  bodies,  and  yet  belongs  to  neither. 

Upon  this  doubtful  ground,  li\-ed  Mrs.  Wititterly,  and  at 
Mrs.  Wititterly's  door  Kate  Nickleby  knocked  with  trembling 
hand.  The  door  was  opened  by  a  big  footman  with  his  head 
floured,  or  chalked,  or  painted  in  some  way  (it  didn't  look 
genuine  powder),  and  the  big  footman,  receiving  the  card  of 
introduction,  gave  it  to  a  little  page  ;  so  little,  indeed,  that  his 
body  would  not  hold,  in  ordinary  array,  the  number  of  small 
buttons  which  are  indispensable  to  a  page's  costume,  and  they 
were  consequently  obliged  to  be  stuck  on  four  abreast.  This 
young  gentleman  took  the  card  up  stairs  on  a  salver,  and 
pending  his  return,  Kate  and  her  mother  were  shown  into  a 
dining-room  of  rather  dirty  and  shabby  aspect,  and  so  com- 
fortably arranged  as  to  be  adapted  to  almost  any  purpose 
rather  than  eating  and  drinking. 

Now,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  and  according  to 
all  authentic  descriptions  of  high  life,  as  set  forth  in  books, 
Mrs.  Wititterly  ought  to  have  been  in  her  boudoir ;  but 
whether  it  was  that  Mr.  Wititterly  was  at  that  moment  shav- 
ing himself  in  the  boudoir  or  what  not,  certain  it  is  that  Mrs. 
Wititterly  gave  audience  in  the  drawing-room,  where  was  ever)-- 
thing  proper  and  necSssar)^,  including  curtains  and  furniture 
coverings  of  a  roseate  hue,  to  shed  a  delicate  bloom  on  Mrs. 
Wititterly's  complexion,  and  a  little  dog  to  snap  at  strangers' 
legs  for  Mrs.  \\''ititterly's  amusement,  and  the  afore-mentioned" 
page,  to  hand  chocolate  for  Mrs.  Wititterly's  refreshment. 


268  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

pfhe   lady   had  an  air  of  sweet  insipidity,  and  a  face  of 
engi^ing  paleness  ;  there  was  a  faded  look  about  her,  and 
about  the  furniture,  and  about  the  hoTis^     She  was  reclining 
T)li  A"bofa  in   sugl'i  a'-'V'b'i'y  uiislucliecl  attitude,  that  she   might 
have  been  taken  for  an  actress  all  ready  for  the  first  scene  in 
a  ballet,  and  only  waiting  for  the  drop  curtain  to  go  up. 
"  Place  chairs." 
The  page  placed  them. 
"  Leave  the  room,  Alphonse." 

The  page  left  it ;  but  if  ever  an  Alphonse  carried  plain 
Bill  in  his  face  and  figure,  that  page  was  the  boy. 

"  I  have  ventured  to  call,  ma'am,"  said  Kate,  after  a  few 
seconds  of  awkward  silence,  "  from  having  seen  your  adver- 
tisement." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Wititterly,  "  one  of  my  people  put  it 
in  the  paper. — Yes." 

"  I  thought,  perhaps,"  said  Kate,  modestly,  "  that  if  you 
had  not  already  made  a  final  choice,  you  would  forgive  my 
troubling  you  with  an  application." 

"  Yes,"  drawled  Mrs.  Wititterly  again. 

"  If  you  have  already  made  a  selection " 

"  Oh  dear  no,"  interrupted  the  lady,  "  I  am  not  so  easily 
suited.  I  really  don't  know  what  to  say.  You  have  never 
been  a  companion  before,  have  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Nickleby,  who  had  been  eagerly  watching  her  oppor- 
tunity, came  dexterously  in,  before  Kate  could  reply.  "  Not 
to  any  stranger,  ma'am,"  said  the  good  lady  ;  "but  she  has 
been  a  companion  to  me  for  some  years.  I  am  her  mother, 
ma'am." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  "  I  apprehend  you." 
"  I  assure  you,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  that  I  very 
little  thought,  at  one  time,  that  it  would  be  necessary  for  my 
daughter  to  go  out  into  the  world  at  all,  for  her  poor  dear 
papa  was  an  independent  gentleman,  and  would  have  been  at 
this  moment  if  he    had  but   listened  in  time  to  my  constant 

entreaties  and " 

"  Dear  mama,"  said  Kate,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  My  dear  Kate,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  speak,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,    "I    shall    take  the  liberty   of  explaining   to    this 

lady " 

"  I  think  it  is  almost  unnecessar)',  mama." 
And  notwithstanding  all  the  frowns  and  winks  with  which 
Mrs.  Nickleby  intimated  that  she  was  going  to  say  something 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  269 

which  would  clench  the  business  at  once,  Kate  maintained 
her  point  by  an  expressive  look,  and  for  once  Mrs.  Nickleby 
was  stopped  upon  the  very  brink  of  an  oration. 

"  What  are  your  accomplishments  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Wititterly, 
with  her  eyes  shut. 

Kate  blushed  as  she  mentioned  her  principal  acquirements, 
and  Mrs.  Nickleby  checked  them  all  off,  one  by  one,  on  her 
flingers  ;  having  calculated  the  number  before  she  came  out. 
Luckily  the  two  calculations  agreed,  so  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  no 
excuse  for  talking. 

"  You  are  a  good  temper  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Wititterly,  open- 
ing her  eyes  for  an  instant,  and  shutting  them  again. 

"  I  hope  so,"  rejoined  Kate. 

"  And  have  a  highly  respectable  reference  for  everything, 
have  you  ?  " 

Kate  replied  that  she  had,  and  laid  her  uncle's  card  upon 
the  table. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  draw  your  chair  a  little  nearer, 
and  let  me  look  at  you,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly  ;  "  I  am  so  very 
near-sighted  that  I  can't  quite  discern  your  features." 

Kate  complied,  though  not  without  some  embarrassment, 
with  this  request,  and  Mrs.  Wititterly  took  a  languid  survey 
of  her  countenance,  which  lasted  some  two  or  three  minutes. 

"  I  like  your  appearance,"  said  that  lady,  ringing  a  little 
bell.     "  Alphonse,  request  your  master  to  come  here." 

The  page  disappeared  on  this  errand,  and  after  a  short 
interval,  during  which  not  a  word  was  spoken  on  either  side, 
opened  the  door  for  an  important  gentleman  of  about  eight- 
and-thirty,  of  rather  plebeian  countenance,  and  with  a  very  light 
head  of  hair,  who  leant  over  Mrs.  Wititterly  for  a  little  time, 
and  conversed  with  her  in  whispers. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  said,  turning  round,  "yes.  This  is  a  most  im- 
portant matter.  Mrs.  Wititterly  is  of  a  very  excitable  nature  ; 
very  delicate,  very  fragile  ;  a  hothouse  plant,  an  exotic," 

"  Oh  !   Henry,  my  dear,"  interposed  Mrs.  Wititterly. 

"  You  are,  my  love,  you  know  you  are  ;  one  breath — "  said 
Mr.  W.,  blowing  an  imaginary  feather  away.  "  Pho !  you're 
gone  !  " 

The  lady  sighed. 

"  Your  soul  is  too  large  for  your  body,"  said  Mr.  Wititterly. 
"  Your  intellect  wears  you  out  ;  all  the  medical  men  say  so  ; 
you  know  that  there  is  not  a  physician  who  is  not  proud  of 
being  called  in  to  you.     What  is  their  unanimous  declaration  ? 


270  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

'  My  dear  doctor,'  said  I  to  Sir  Tumley  Snuffim,  in  this  very 
room,  the  very  last  time  he  came.  '  My  dear  doctor,  what  is 
my  wife's  complaint  ?  Tell  me  all.  I  can  bear  it.  Is  it  nerves  ?  ' 
'  My  dear  fellow,'  he  said, '  be  proud  of  that  woman  ;  make 
much  of  her  ;  she  is  an  ornament  to  the  fashionable  world, 
and  to  you.  Her  complaint  is  soul.  It  swells,  expands,  dilates — 
the  blood  fires,  the  pulse  quickens,  the  excitement  increases — 
Whew  ! '  "  Here  Mr.  Wititterly,  who  in  the  ardor  of  his  de- 
scription, had  flourished  his  right  hand  to  within  something 
less  than  an  inch  of  Mrs.  Nickleby's  bonnet,  drew  it  hastily 
back  again,  and  blew  his  nose  as  fiercely  as  if  it  had  been 
done  by  some  violent  machinery. 

"  You  make  me  out  worse  than  I  am,  Henry,"  said  Mrs. 
Wititterly,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  I  do  not,  Julia,  I  do  not,"  said  Mr.  W.  "  The  society 
in  which  you  move — necessarily  move,  from  your  station,  con- 
nection, and  endowments — is  one  vortex  and  whirlpool  of  the 
most  frightful  excitement.  Bless  my  heart  and  body,  can  I 
ever  forget  the  night  you  danced  with  the  baronet's  nephew 
at  the  election  ball,  at  Exeter  !     It  was  tremendous." 

"  I  always  suffer  for  these  triumphs  afterwards,"  said  Mrs. 
Wititterly. 

"  And  for  that  very  reason,"  rejoined  her  husband,  "you 
must  have  a  companion,  in  whom  there  is  great  gentleness, 
great  sweetness,  excessive  sympathy,  and  perfect  repose."  \ 

Here,  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wititterly,  who  had  talked  rather 
at  the  Nicklebys  than  to  each  other,  left  off  speaking,  and 
looked  at  their  two  hearers,  with  an  expression  of  countenance 
which  seemed  to  say  "  What  do  you  think  of  all  this  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Wititterly,"  said  her  husband,  addressing  himself 
to  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  is  sought  after  and  courted  by  glittering 
crowds  and  brilliant  circles.  She  is  excited  by  the  opera,  the 
drama,  the  fine  arts,  the — the — the " 

"The  nobility,  my  love,"  interposed  Mrs.  Wititterly. 

"  The  nobility,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Wititterly.  "  And  the 
military.  She  forms  and  expresses  an  immense  variety  of 
opinions  on  an  immense  variety  of  subjects.  If  some  people 
in  public  life  were  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Wititterly's  real  opin- 
ion of  them,  they  would  not  hold  their  heads,  perhaps,  quite 
as  high  as  they  do." 

"  Hush,  Henry,"  said  the  lady  ;  "this  is  scarcely  fair." 

"  I  mention  no  names,  Julia,"  replied  Mr.  Wititterly; 
"  and  nobody  is  injured.     I  merely  mention  the  circumstance 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  271 

to  show  that  you  are  no  ordinary  person,  that  there  is  a  con- 
stant friction  perpetually  going  on  between  your  mind  and 
your  body  ;  and  that  you  must  be  soothed  and  tended.  Now 
let  me  hear,  dispassionately  and  calmly,  what  are  this  young 
lady's  qualifications  for  the  office." 

In  obedience  to  this  request,  the  qualifications  w^ere  all 
gone  through  again,  with  the  addition  of  many  interruptions 
and  cross-questionings  from  Mr.  Wititterly.  It  was  finally 
arranged  that  inquiries  should  be  made,  and  a  decisive  answer 
addressed  to  Miss  Nickleby  under  cover  to  her  uncle,  within 
two  days.  These  conditions  agreed  upon,  the  page  showed 
them  down  as  far  as  the  staircase  window  ;  and  the  big  foot- 
man, relieving  guard  at  that  point,  piloted  them  in  perfect 
safety  to  the  street-door. 

"  They  are  very  distinginshed  people,  evidently,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  as  she  took  her  daughter's  arm.  "  What  a  superior 
person  Mrs.  Wititterly  is  !  " 

"  Do  you  think  so,  mama  ?  "  was  all  Kate's  reply. 
"  Why,    who    can    help   thinking   so,    Kate,    my   love  ?  " 
rejoined  her  mother.     "  She  is  pale  though,  and   looks    much 
exhausted.     I  hope  she  may  not  be  wearing  herself  out,  but 
I  am  very  much  afraid." 

These  considerations  led  the  deep-sighted  lady  into  a  cal- 
culation of  the  probable  duration  of  Mrs.  Wititterly's  life,  and 
the  chances  of  the  disconsolate  widower  bestowing  his  hand 
on  her  daughter.  Before  reaching  home,  she  had  freed  Mrs. 
Wititterly's  soul  from  all  bodily  restraint  ;  married  Kate  with 
great  splendor  at  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square  ;  and  only 
left  undecided  the  minor  question,  whether  a  splendid  French- 
polished  mahogany  bedstead  should  be  erected  for  herself  in 
the  two-pair  back  of  the  house  in  Cadogan  Place,  or  in  the 
three-pair  front,  between  which  apartments  she  could  not 
quite  balance  the  advantages,  and  therefore  adjusted  the  ques- 
tion at  last,  by  determining  to  leave  it  to  the  decision  of  her 
son-in-law. 

The  inquiries  were  made.  The  answer — not  to  Kate's 
vpry-^rWf  JAT^— wis  m^JfJlK^  •  and"at'"TneT^in-atimi  oF  a 
week  she  betook  herself,  with  all  her  movables  and  valuables, 
to  Mrs.  Wititterly's  mansion,  where  for  the  present  we_  will 
leave  her.     --.-.,,»...,.-..-   .■. 


JUL 


<::yuA4iuyVi 


272  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

NICHOLAS,  ACCOMPANIED  BY  SMIKE,  SALLIES  FORTH  TO  SEEK 
HIS  FORTUNE  ;  HE  ENCOUNTERS  MR.  VINCENT  CRUMMLES  ; 
AND    WHO    HE    WAS,    IS    HEREIN    MADE    MANIFEST. 

The  whole  capital  which  Nicholas  found  himself  entitled 
to,  either  in  possession,  reversion,  remainder,  or  expectancy, 
after  paying  his  rent  and  settling  with  the  broker  from  whom 
he  had  hired  his  poor  furniture,  did  not  exceed,  by  more  than 
a  fevv  half-pence,  the  sum  of  twenty  shillings.  And  yet  he 
hailed  the  morning  on  which  he  had  resolved  to  quit  London, 
with  a  light  heart,  and  sprang  from  his  bed  with  an  elasticity 
of  spirit  which  is  happily  the  lot  of  young  persons,  or  the  world 
would  never  be  stocked  with  old  ones. 

It  was  a  cold,  dry,  foggy  morning  in  early  spring.  A  few 
meagre  shadows  flitted  to  and  fro  in  the  misty  streets,  and  oc- 
casionally there  loomed  through  the  dull  vapor,  the  heavy 
outline  of  some  hackney-coach  wending  homewards,  which, 
drawing  slowly  nearer,  rolled  jangling  by,  scattering  the  thin 
crust  of  frost  from  its  whitened  roof  and  soon  was  lost  again  in 
the  cloud.  At  intervals  were  heard  the  tread  of  slipshod  feet, 
and  the  chilly  cry  of  the  poor  sweep  as  he  crept,  shivering,  to 
his  early  toil  ;  the  heavy  footfall  of  the  official  watcher  of 
the  night,  pacing  slowly  up  and  down  and  cursing  the  tardy 
hours  that  still  intervened  between  him  and  sleep ;  the  rum- 
bling of  ponderous  carts  and  wagons  ;  the  roll  of  the  lighter  vehi- 
cles which  carried  buyers  and  sellers  to  the  different  markets  ; 
the  sound  of  ineffectual  knocking  at  the  doors  of  heavy  sleepers 
— all  these  noises  fell  upon  the  ear  from  time  to  time,  but  all 
seemed  muffied  by  the  fog,  and  to  be  rendered  almost  as  in- 
distinct to  the  ear  as  was  every  object  to  the  sight.  The 
sluggish  darkness  thickened  as  the  day  came  on  ;  and  those 
who  had  the  courage  to  rise  and  peep  at  the  gloomy  street 
from  their  curtained  windows,  crept  back  to  bed  again,  and 
coiled  themselves  up  to  sleep. 

Before  even  these  indications  of  approaching  morning 
were  rife  in  busy  London,  Nicholas  had  made  his  way  alone 
to  the  city,  and  stood  beneath  the  windows  of  his  mother's 
house.     It  was  dull  and  bare  to  see,  but  it  had  light  and  life 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  273 

for  him  ;  for  there  was  at  least  one  heart  within  its  old  walls 
to  which  insult  or  dishonor  would  brinfr  the  same  blood  rush- 
ing,  that  flowed  in  his  own  veins. 

He  crossed  the  road,  and  raised  his  e3'^es  to  the  window  of 
the  room  where  he  knew  his  sister  slept.  It  was  closed  and 
dark.  "  Poor  girl,"  thought  Nicholas,  "  she  little  thinks  who 
lingers  here  !  " 

He  looked  again,  and  felt,  for  the  moment,  almost  vexed 
that  Kate  was  not  there  to  exchange  one  word  at  parting. 
"  Good  God  !  "  he  thought,  suddenly  correcting  himself, 
"  what  a  boy  I  am  !  " 

"  It  is  better  as  it  is,"  said  Nicholas,  after  he  had  lounged 
on,  a  few  paces,  and  returned  to  the  same  spot.  "When  I 
left  them  before,  and  could  have  said  good-by  a  thousand 
times  if  I  had  chosen,  I  spared  them  the  pain  of  leave-taking, 
and  why  not  now .''  "  As  he  spoke,  some  fancied  motion  of 
the  curtain  almost  persuaded  him,  for  the  instant,  that  Kate 
was  at  the  window,  and  by  one  of  those  strange  contradictions 
of  feeling  which  are  common  to  us  all,  he  shrunk  involun- 
tarily into  a  door-way,  that  she  might  not  see  him.  He  smiled 
at  his  own  weakness  ;  said  "  God  bless  them  !  "  and  walked 
away  with  a  lighter  step. 

Smike  was  anxiously  expecting  him  when  he  reached  his 
old  lodgings,  and  so  was  Newman,  who  had  expended  a  day's 
income  in  a  can  of  rum  and  milk  to  prepare  them  for  the 
journey.  They  had  tied  up  the  luggage,  Smike  shouldered  it, 
and  away  they  went,  with  Newman  Noggs  in  company ;  for  he 
had  insisted  on  walkins;  as  far  as  he  could  with  them,  overniirht. 

"  Which  way  ?  "  asked  Newman,  wistfully. 

"To  Kingston  first,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  And  where  afterwards  ?  "  asked  Newman.  "  Why  won't 
you  tell  me  .''  " 

"  Because  I  scarcely  know  myself,  good  friend,"  rejoined 
Nicholas,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder ;  "and  if  I  did, 
I  have  neither  plan  nor  prospect  yet,  and  might  shift  my 
quarters  a  hundred  times  before  you  could  possibly  communi- 
cate with  me." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  some  deep  scheme  in  your  head," 
said  Newman,  doubtfully. 

"  So  deep,"  replied  his  young  friend,  "  that  even  I  can't 
fathom  it.  Whatever  I  resolve  upon,  depend  upon  it  I  will 
write  you  soon." 

18 


274 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


You  won't  forget  ?  "  said  Newman. 


"  I  am  not  very  likely  to,"  rejoined  Nicholas.  "  I  have 
not  so  many  friends  that  I  shall  grow  confused  among  the 
number,  and  forget  my  best  one." 

Occupied  in  such  discourse,  they  walked  on  for  a  couple 
of  hours,  as  they  might  have  done  for  a  couple  of  days  if 
Nicholas  had  not  sat  himself  down  on  a  stone  by  the  way- 
side, and  resolutely  declared  his  intention  of  not  moving 
another  step  until  Newman  Noggs  turned  back.  Having 
pleaded  ineffectually  first  for  another  half-mile,  and  afterwards 
for  another  quarter,  Newman  was  fain  to  comply,  and  to 
shape  his  course  towards  Golden  Square,  after  interchanging 
many  hearty  and  affectionate  farewells,  and  many  times  turn- 
ing back  to  wave  his  hat  to  the  two  wayfarers  when  they  had 
become  mere  specks  in  the  distance. 

"  Now  listen  to  me,  Smike,"  said  Nicholas,  as  they  trudged 
with  stout  hearts  onwards.  "  We  are  bound  for  Ports- 
mouth." 

Smike  nodded  his  head  and  smiled,  but  expressed  no 
other  emotion ;  for  whether  they  had  been  bound  for  Ports- 
mouth or  Port  Royal  would  have  been  alike  to  him,  so  they 
had  been  bound  together. 

"  I  don't  know  much  of  these  matters,"  resumed  Nicholas ; 
"  but  Portsmouth  is  a  sea-port  town,  and  if  no  other  employ- 
ment is  to  be  obtained,  I  should  think  we  might  get  on  board 
some  ship.  I  am  young  and  •  active,  and  could  be  useful  in 
many  ways.     So  could  you." 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  Smike.  "  When  I  was  at  that — you 
know  where  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Nicholas.  "  You  needn't  name  the 
place." 

"  Well,  when  I  was  there,"  resumed  Smike ;  his  eyes 
sparkling  at  the  prospect  of  displaying  his  abilities  ;  "  I  could 
milk  a  cow,  and  groom  a  horse,  with  anybody." 

"  Ha  !  "  said  Nicholas,  gravely.  "  I  am  afraid  they  don't 
keep  many  animals  of  either  kind  on  board  ship,  Smike,  and 
even  when  they  have  horses  that  they  are  not  very  particular 
about  rubbing  them  down  ;  still  you  can  learn  to  do  some- 
thing else,  you  know.     Where  there's  a  will,  there's  a  way." 

"  And  I  am  very  willing,"  said  Smike,  cheering  up  again. 

"  God  knows  you  are,"  rejoined  Nicholas  ;  "  and  if  you 
fail,  it  shall  go  hard  but  I'll  do  enough  for  us  both." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  275 

"  Do  we  go  all  the  way,  to-day  ?  "  asked  Smike,  after  a 
short  silence. 

"  That  would  be  too  severe  a  trial,  even  for  your  willing 
legs,"  said  Nicholas,  with  a  good-humored  smile.  "No. 
Godalming  is  some  thirty  and  odd  miles  from  London — as  I 
found  from  a  map  I  borrowed — and  I  purpose  to  rest  there. 
We  must  push  on  again  to-morrow,  for  we  are  not  rich  enough 
to  loiter.     Let  me  relieve  you  of  that  bundle  !     Come  ! " 

'"No,  no,"  rejoined  Smike,  falling  back  a  few  steps. 
"  Don't  ask  me  to  give  it  up  to  you." 

"  Why  not }  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"Let  me  do  something  for  5'ou,  at  least,"  said  Smike. 
"  You  will  never  let  me  serve  you  as  I  ought.  You  will  never 
know  how  I  think,  day  and  night,  of  ways  to  please  you." 

"  You  are  a  foolish  fellow  to  say  it,  for  I  know  it  well,  and 
see  it,  or  I  should  be  a  blind  and  senseless  beast,"  rejoined 
Nicholas.  "  Let  me  ask  you  a  question  while  I  think  of  it, 
and  there  is  no  one  by,"  he  added,  looking  him  steadily  in  the 
face.     "  Have  you  a  good  memory  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Smike,  shaking  his  head  sorrow- 
fully. "  I  think  I  had  once ;  but  it's  all  gone  now — all 
gone." 

"  Why  do  you  think  you  had  once  ?  "  asked  Nicholas, 
turning  quickly  upon  him  as  though  the  answer  in  some  way 
helped  out  the  purport  of  his  question. 

"  Because  I  could  remember,  when  I  was  a  child,"  said 
Smike,  "  but  that  is  very,  very  long  ago,  or  at  least  it  seems 
so.  I  was  always  confused  and  giddy  at  that  place  you  took 
me  from  ;  and  could  never  remember,  and  sometimes  couldn't 
even  understand,  what  they  said  to  me.  I — let  me  see — let 
me  see  ! " 

"  You  are  wandering  now,"  said  Nicholas,  touching  him 
on  the  arm. 

"  No,"   replied  his   companion,  with   a  vacant   look.     "  I 

was  only  thinking  how ."     He   shivered   in\'oluntarily  as 

he  spoke. 

"  Think  no  more  of  that  place,  for  it  is  all  over,"  retorted 
Nicholas,  fixing  his  eye  full  upon  that  of  his  companion, 
which  was  fast  settling  into  an  unmeaning  stupefied  gaze,  once 
habitual  to  him,  and  common  even  then.  "  What  of  the  first 
day  you  went  to  Yorkshire  .? " 

"  Eh  !  "  cried  the  lad. 

"  That  was  before  you  began  to  lose  your  recollection,  you 


276  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

know,"  said  Nicholas  quietly.  "  Was  the  weather  hot  or 
cold  ?  " 

"  Wet,"  replied  the  boy.  "  Very  wet.  I  have  always  said, 
when  it  has  rained  hard,  that  it  was  like  the  night  I  came  ; 
and  they  used  to  crowd  round  and  laugh  to  see  me  cry  when 
the  rain  fell  heavily.  It  was  like  a  child,  they  said,  and  that 
made  me  think  of  it  more.  I  turned  cold  all  over  sometimes, 
for  I  could  see  myself  as  I  was  then,  coming  in  at  the  very 
same  door." 

"  As  you  were  then,"  repeated  Nicholas,  with  assumed 
carelessness  ;  "  how  was  that  ?  " 

"  Such  a  little  creature,"  said  Smike,  "  that  they  might 
have  had  pity  and  mercy  upon  me,  only  to  remember  it." 

"  You  didn't  find  your  way  there,  alone  !  "  remarked 
Nicholas. 

"  No,"  rejoined  Smike,  "oh  no." 

"  Who  was  with  you  ?  " 

"  A  man — a  dark,  withered  man.  I  have  heard  them  say 
so,  at  the  school,  and  I  remembered  that  before.  I  was  glad 
to  leave  him,  I  was  afraid  of  him  ;  but  they  made  me  more 
afraid  of  them,  and  used  me  harder  too." 

"  Look  at  me,"  said  Nicholas,  wishing  to  attract  his  full 
attention.  "  There  ;  don't  turn  away.  Do  you  remember  no 
woman,  no  kind  woman,  who  hung  over  you  once,  and  kissed 
your  lips,  and  called  you  her  child  ? ' 

"  No,"  said  the  poor  creature,  shaking  his  head,  "  no, 
never." 

"  Nor  any  house  but  that  house  in  Yorkshire  ?  " 

"  No,"  rejoined  the  youth,  with  a  melancholy  look;  "a 
room — I  remember  I  slept  in  a  room,  a  large  lonesome  room 
at  the  top  of  a  house,  where  there  was  a  trap-door  in  the  ceil- 
ing. I  have  covered  my  head  with  the  clothes  often,  not 
to  see  it,  for  it  frightened  me  :  a  young  child  with  no  one  near 
at  night :  and  I  used  to  wonder  what  was  on  the  other  side. 
There  was  a  clock  too,  an  old  clock,  in  one  corner.  I  remem- 
ber that.  I  have  never  forgotten  that  room  ;  for  when  I  have 
terrible  dreams,  it  comes  back,  just  as  it  was.  I  see  things 
and  people  in  it  that  I  had  never  seen  then,  but  there  is  the 
room  just  as  it  used  to  be  ;  that  never  changes." 

"  Will  you  let  me  take  the  bundle  now  ?  "  asked  Nicholas, 
abruptly  changing  the  theme. 

"  No,"  said  Smike,  "  no.     Come,  let  us  walk  on." 

He  quickened  his  pace  as  he   said  this,  apparently  undei 


NICHOLAS  NICK'LEBY.  277 

the  impression  that  they  had  been  standing  still,  during  the 
whole  of  the  previous  dialogue.  Nicholas  marked  him  closely, 
and  every  word  of  this  conversation  remained  upon  his 
memor}-. 

It  was,  by  this  time,  within  an  hour  of  noon,  and  although 
a  dense  vapor  still  enveloped  the  city  they  had  left,  as  if  the 
very  breath  of  its  busy  people  hung  over  their  schemes  of  gain 
and  profit  and  found  greater  attraction  there  than  in  the  quiet 
region  above,  in  the  open  country  it  was  clear  and  fair.  Occa- 
sionally, in  some  low  spots  they  came  upon  patches  of  mist 
which  the  sun  had  not  yet  driven  from  their  strongholds  ;  but 
these  were  soon  pa<:sed,  and  as  they  labored  up  the  hills  be- 
yond, it  was  pleasant  to  look  down,  and  see  how  the  sluggish 
mass  rolled  heavily  off,  before  the  cheering  influence  of  day. 
A  broad,  fine,  honest  sun  lighted  up  the  green  pastures  and 
dimpled  water  with  the  semblance  of  summer,  while  it  left  the 
travellers  all  the  invigorating  freshness  of  that  early  time  of 
year.  The  ground  seemed  elastic  under  their  feet ;  the  sheep- 
bells  were  music  to  their  ears  ;  and  exhilarated  by  exercise, 
and  stimulated  by  hope,  they  pushed  onward  with  the  strength 
of  lions. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  all  these  bright  colors  subsided, 
and  assumed  a  quieter  tint,  like  young  hopes  softened  down 
by  time,  or  youthful  features  by  degrees  resolving  into  the 
calm  and  serenity  of  age.  But  they  were  scarcely  less  beau- 
tiful in  their  slow  decline,  than  they  had  been  in  their  prime  ; 
for  nature  gives  to  every  time  and  season  some  beauties  of  its 
own  ;  and  from  morning  to  night,  as  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave,  is  but  a  succession  of  changes  so  gentle  and  easy,  that 
we  can  scarcely  mark  their  progress. 

To  Godalm'ing  they  came  at  last,  and  here  they  bargained 
for  two  humble  beds,  and  slept  soundly.  In  the  morning  they 
were  astir,  though  not  quite  so  early  as  the  sun,  and  again 
afoot  ;  if  not  with  all  the  freshness  of  yesterday,  still,  with 
enough  of  hope  and  spirit  to  bear  them  cheerily  on. 

It  was  a  harder  day's  journey  than  yesterday's,  for  there 
were  long  and  weary  hills  to  climb  ;  and  in  journeys,  as  in  life, 
it  is  a  great  deal  easier  to  go  down  hill  than  up.  However, 
they  kept  on,  with  unabated  perseverance,  and  the  hill  has  not 
yet  lifted  its  face  to  heaven  that  perseverance  will  not  gain 
the  summit  of  at  last. 

They  walked  upon  the  rim  of  the  Devil's  Punch  Bowl ; 
and  Smike  listened  with  greedy  interest  as  Nicholas  read  the 


2  78  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

inscription  upon  the  stone  which,  reared  upon  that  wild  spot, 
tells  of  a  murder  committed  there  by  night.  The  grass  on 
which  they  stood,  had  once  been  dyed  with  gore  ;  and  the 
blood  of  the  murdered  man  had  run  down,  drop  by  drop,  into 
the  hollow  which  gives  the  place  its  name.  "  The  Devil's 
Bowl,"  thought  Nicholas,  as  he  looked  into  the  void,  "  never 
held  fitter  liquor  than  that." 

Onward  they  kept,  with  steady  purpose,  and  entered  at 
length  upon  a  wide  and  spacious  tract  of  downs,  with  every 
variety  of  little  hill  and  plain,  to  change  their  verdant  surface. 
Here,  there  shot  up,  almost  perpendicularly,  into  the  sky,  a 
height  so  steep,  as  to  be  hardly  accessible  to  any  but  the 
sheep  and  goats  that  fed  upon  its  sides,  and  there,  stood  a 
mound  of  green,  sloping  and  tapering  off  so  delicately,  and 
merging  so  gently  into  the  level  ground,  that  you  could  scarce 
define  its  limits.  Hills  swelling  above  each  other  ;  and  undu- 
lations, shapely  and  uncouth,  smooth  and  rugged,  graceful 
and  grotesque,  thrown  negligently  side  by  side,  bounded  the 
view  in  each  direction  ;  while  frequently,  with  unexpected 
noise,  there  uprose  from  the  ground  a  flight  of  crows,  who, 
cawing  and  wheeling  round  the  nearest  hill,  as  if  uncertain  of 
their  course  suddenly  poised  themselves  upon  the  wing  and 
skimmed  down  the  long  vista  of  some  opening  valley,  with  the 
speed  of  light  itself. 

By  degrees,  the  prospect  receded  more  and  more  on  either 
hand,  and  as  they  had  been  shut  out  from  rich  and  extensive 
scenery,  so  they  emerged  once  again  upon  the  open  country. 
The  knowledge  that  they  were  drawing  near  their  place  of 
destination,  gave  them  fresh  courage  to  proceed  ;  but  the  way 
had  been  difficult,  and  they  had  loitered  on  the  road,  and 
Smike  was  tired.  Thus  twilight  had  already  closed  in,  when 
they  turned  off  the  path  to  the  door  of  a  road-side  inn,  yet 
twelve  miles  short  of  Portsmouth. 

"  Twelve  miles,"  said  Nicholas,  leaning  with  both  hands 
on  his  stick,  and  looking  doubtfully  at  Smike. 

"  Twelve  long  miles,"  repeated  the  landlord. 

"  Is  it  a  good  road  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas. 

''Very  bad,"  said  the  landlord.  As  of  course,  being  a 
landlord,  he  would  say. 

"  I  want  to  get  on,"  said  Nicholas,  hesitating.  "  I  scarcely 
know  what  to  do." 

"  Don't  let  me  influence  you,"  rejoined  the  landlord.  "/ 
wouldn't  go  on  if  it  was  me." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  279 

"  Wouldn't  you  ? "  asked  Nicholas,  with  the  same  uncer- 
tainty. 

"  Not  if  I  knew  when  I  was  well  off,"  said  the  landlord. 
And  having  said  it,  he  pulled  up  his  apron,  put  his  hands  into 
his  pockets,  and  taking  a  step  or  two  outside  the  door,  looked 
down  the  dark  road  with  an  assumption  of  great  indifference. 

A  glance  at  the  toil-worn  face  of  Smike  determined  Nich- 
olas, so  without  any  further  consideration  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  stay  where  he  was. 

The  landlord  led  them  into  the  kitchen,  and  as  there  was 
a  good  fire  he  remarked  that  it  was  very  cold.  If  there  had 
happened  to  be  a  bad  one  he  would  have  observed  that  it  was 
very  warm. 

"  What  can  you  give  us  for  supper  ?  "  was  Nicholas's 
natural  question. 

"  Why — what  would  you  like  1  "  was  the  landlord's  no  less 
natural  answer. 

Nicholas  suggested  cold  meat,  but  there  was  no  cold  meat 
— poached  eggs,  but  there  were  no  eggs — mutton  chops,  but 
there  wasn't  a  mutton  chop  within  three  miles,  though  there 
had  been  more  last  week  than  they  knew  what  to  do  with,  and 
would  be  an  extraordinary  supply  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

"  Then,"  said  Nicholas,  "  I  must  leave  it  entirely  to  you, 
as  I  would  have  done,  at  first,  if  you  had  allowed  me." 

"  Why,  then  I'll  tell  you  what,"  rejoined  the  landlord. 
"  There's  a  gentleman  in  the  parlor  that's  ordered  a  hot  beef- 
steak pudding  and  potatoes,  at  nine.  There's  more  of  it  than 
he  can  manage,  and  I  have  very  little  doubt  that  if  I  ask 
leave,  you  can  sup  with  him.     I'll  do  that,  in  a  minute." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Nicholas,  detaining  him.  "  I  would  rather 
not.  I — at  least — pshaw  !  why  cannot  I  speak  out.  Here  ; 
you  see  that  I  am  travelling  in  a  very  humble  manner,  and 
have  made  my  way  hither  on  foot.  It  is  more  than  probable, 
I  think,  that  the  gentleman  may  not  relish  my  company  ;  and 
although  I  am  the  dusty  figure  you  see,  I  am  too  proud  to 
thrust  myself  into  his." 

"  Lord  love  you,"  said  the  landlord,  "it's  only  Mr.  Crumm- 
ies ;  he  isn't  particular." 

"  Is  he  not  ?  "  asked  Nicholas,  on  whose  mind,  to  tell  the 
truth,  the  prospect  of  the  savory  pudding  was  making  some 
impression. 

"  Not  he.  He'll  like  your  way  of  talking,  I  know.  But 
we'll  soon  see  all  about  that.     Just  wait  a  minute." 


28o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

The  landlord  hurried  into  the  parlor,  without  staying  for 
further  permission,  nor  did  Nicholas  strive  to  prevent  him : 
wisely  considering  that  supper,  under  the  circumstances,  was 
too  serious  a  matter  to  trifle  with.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
host  returned,  in  a  condition  of  much  excitement. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  knew  he  would. 
You'll  see  something  rather  worth  seeing,  in  there.  Ecod, 
how  they  are  a  going  of  it !  " 

There  was  no  time  to  inquire  to  what  this  exclamation, 
which  was  delivered  in  a  ver}'  rapturous  tone,  referred  ;  for  he 
had  already  thrown  open  the  door  of  the  room  ;  into  which 
Nicholas,  followed  by  Smike  with  the  bundle  on  his  shoulder 
(he  carried  it  about  with  him  as  vigilantly  as  if  it  had  been  a 
sack  of  gold),  straightway  repaired. 

Nicholas  was  prepared  for  something  odd,  but  not  for 
something  quite  so  odd  as  the  sight  he  encountered.  At  the 
upper  end  of  the  room,  were  a  couple  of  boys,  one  of  them 
very  tall  and  the  other  very  short,  both  dressed  as  sailors — 
or  at  least  as  theatrical  sailors,  with  belts,  buckles,  pigtails, 
and  pistols  complete — fighting  what  is  called  in  pi  ay -bills  a  ter- 
rific combat,  with  two  of  those  short  broad-swords  with  basket 
hilts  which  are  commonly  used  at  our  minor  theatres.  The 
short  boy  had  gained  a  great  advantage  over  the  tall  bo}'',  who 
was  reduced  to  mortal  strait,  and  both  were  overlooked  by  a 
large  heavy  man,  perched  against  the  corner  of  a  table,  who 
emphatically  adjured  them  to  strike  a  little  more  fire  out  of 
the  swords,  and  they  couldn't  fail  to  bring  the  house  down, 
on  the  very  first  night. 

"Mr.  Vincent  Crummies,"  said  the  landlord  with  an  air  of 
great  deference.     "  This  is  the  young  gentleman." 

Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  received  Nicholas  with  an  inclina- 
tion of  the  head,  something  between  the  courtesy  of*  a  Roman 
emperor  and  the  nod  of  a  pot  companion  ;  and  bade  the  land- 
lord shut  the  door  and  begone. 

"There's  a  picture,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  motioning  Nich- 
olas not  to  advance  and  spoil  it.  "  The  little  'un  has  him  ; 
if  the  big  'un  doesn't  knock  under,  in  three  seconds,  he's  a 
dead  man.     Do  that  again,  boys." 

The  two  combatants  went  to  work  afresh,  and  chopped  away 
until  the  swords  emitted  a  shower  of  sparks:  to  the  great  satis- 
faction of  Mr.  Crummies,  who  appeared  to  consider  this  a  very 
great  point  indeed.  The  engagement  commenced  with  about 
two  hundred  chops  administered  by  the  short  sailor  and  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  281 

tall  sailor,  alternately,  without  producing  any  particular  result, 
until  the  short  sailor  was  chopped  down  on  one  knee  ;  but  this 
was  nothing  to  him,  for  he  worked  himself  about  on  the  one 
knee  with  the  assistance  of  his  left  hand,  and  fought  most  des- 
perately until  the  tall  sailor  chopped  his  sword  out  of  his  grasp. 
Now,  the  inference  was,  that  the  short  sailor,  reduced  to  this 
extremity,  would  give  in  at  once  and  cry  quarter,  but,  instead 
of  that,  he  all  of  a  sudden  drew  a  large  pistol  from  his  belt 
and  presented  it  at  the  face  of  the  tall  sailor,  who  was  so  over- 
come at  this  (not  expecting  it)  that  he  let  the  short  sailor  pick 
up  his  sword  and  begin  again.  Then,  the  chopping  recom- 
menced, and  a  variety  of  fancy  chops  were  administered  on 
both  sides  ;  such  as  chops  dealt  with  the  left  hand,  and  under 
the  leg,  and  over  the  right  shoulder,  and  over  the  left ;  and 
when  the  short  sailor  made  a  vigorous  cut  at  the  tall  sailor's 
legs,  which  would  have  shaved  them  clean  off  if  it  had  taken 
effect,  the  tall  sailor  jumped  over  the  short  sailor's  sword, 
wherefore  to  balance  the  matter,  and  make  it  all  fair,  the  tall 
sailor  administered  the  same  cut,  and  the  short  sailor  jumped 
over  his  sword.  After  this,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  dodging 
about,  and  hitching  up  of  the  inexpressibles  in  the  absence  of 
braces,  and  then  the  short  sailor  (who  was  the  moral  character 
evidently,  for  he  always  had  the  best  of  it)  made  a  violent  de- 
monstration and  closed  with  the  tall  sailor,  who,  after  a  few  un- 
availing struggles,  went  down,  and  expired  in  great  torture  as 
the  short  sailor  put  his  foot  upon  his  breast,  and  bored  a  hole 
in  him  through  and  through. 

"  That'll  be  a  double  encore  if  you  take  care,  boys,"  said 
Mr.  Crummies.  "  You  had  better  get  your  wind  now  and 
change  your  clothes." 

Having  addressed  these  words  to  the  combatants,  he 
saluted  Nicholas,  who  then  observed  that  the  face  of  Mr. 
Crummies  was  quite  proportionate  in  size  to  his  body  ;  that 
he  had  a  very  full  under-lip,  a  hoarse  voice,  as  though  he  were 
in  the  habit  of  shouting  very  much,  and  very  short  black  hair, 
shaved  off  nearly  to  the  crown  of  his  head — to  admit  (as  he 
afterwards  learnt)  of  his  more  easily  wearing  character  wigs 
of  any  shape  or  pattern. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Crumm- 
ies. 

"  Very  good,  indeed — capital,"  answered  Nicholas. 

"  You  won't  see  such  boys  as  those  very  often,  I  think," 
said  Mr.  Crummies. 


282  NICHOLAS  NICKLE BY. 

Nicholas  assented — observing  that  if  they  were  a  little 
better  match 

"  Match  !  "  cried  Mr.  Crummies. 

"  I  mean  if  they  were  a  little  more  of  a  size,"  said  Nicholas, 
explaining  himself. 

"  Size  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Crummies  ;  "  why  it's  the  essence 
of  the  combat  that  there  should  be  a  foot  or  two  between 
them.  How  are  you  to  get  up  the  sympathies  of  the  audience 
in  a  legitimate  manner,  if  there  isn't  a  little  man  contending 
against  a  big  one — unless  there's  at  least  five  to  one,  and  we 
haven't  hands  enough  for  that  business  in  our  company." 

"  I  see,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  That 
didn't  occur  to  me,  I  confess." 

"  It's  the  main  point,"  said  Mr.  Crummies.  "  I  open  at 
Portsmouth  the  day  after  to-morrow,  If  you're  going  there, 
look  into  the  theatre,  and  see  how  that'll  tell." 

Nicholas  promised  to  do  so,  if  he  could,  and  drawing  a 
chair  near  the  fire,  fell  into  conversation  with  the  manager  at 
once.  He  was  very  talkative  and  communicative,  stimulated 
perhaps,  not  only  by  his  natural  disposition,  but  by  the  spirits 
and  water  he  sipped  very  plentifully,  or  the  snuff  he  took  in 
large  quantities  from  a  piece  of  whitey-brown  paper  in  his 
waistcoat  pocket.  He  laid  open  his  affairs  without  the  small- 
est reserve,  and  descanted  at  some  length  upon  the  merits  of 
his  company,  and  the  acquirements  of  his  family ;  of  both  of 
which,  the  two  broadsword  boys  formed  an  honorable  portion. 
There  was  to  be  a  gathering,  it  seemed,  of  the  different  ladies 
and  gentlemen  at  Portsmouth  on  the  morrow,  whither  the 
father  and  sons  were  proceeding  (not  for  the  regular  season, 
but  in  the  course  of  a  wandering  speculation),  after  fulfilling 
an  engagement  at  Guildford  with  the  greatest  applause. 

"  You  are  going  that  way  1 "  asked  the  manager. 

"  Ye-3'es,"  said  Nicholas.     "  Yes,  I  am." 

"  Do  you  know  the  town  at  all  .-*  "  inquired  the  manager, 
who  seemed  to  consider  himself  entitled  to  the  same  degree 
of  confidence  as  he  had  himself  exhibited. 

"  No,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Never  there  ?  " 

"  Never." 

Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  gave  a  short  dry  cough,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  If  you  won't  be  communicative,  you  won't ;  "  and 
took  so  many  pinches  of  snuff  from  the  piece  of  paper,  one 
after  another,  that  Nicholas  quite  wondered  where  it  all  went  to. 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEB  V. 


283 


While  he  was  thus  engaged,  Mr.  Crummies  looked,  from 
time  to  time,  with  great  interest  at  Smike,  with  whom  he  had 
appeared  considerably  struck  from  the  first.  He  had  now 
fallen  asleep,  and  was  nodding  in  his  chair. 

"  Excuse  my  saying  so,"  said  the  manager,  leaning  over  to 
Nicholas,  and  sinking  his  voice,  "  but  what  a  capital  counten- 
ance your  friend  has  got !  " 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Nicholas,  with  a  half  smile,  "  I  wish 
it  were  a  little  more  plump,  and  less  haggard." 

"  Plump  !  "  exclaimed  the  manager,  quite  horrified,  "  you'd 
spoil  it  for  ever." 

"  Do  you  think  so  1  " 

"  Think  so,  sir  ?  Why,  as  he  is  now,"  said  the  manager, 
striking  his  knee  emphatically  ;  "  without  a  pad  upon  his 
body,  and  hardly  a  touch  of  paint  upon  his  face,  he'd  make  such 
an  actor  for  the  starved  business  as  was  never  seen  in  this 
country.  Only  let  him  be  tolerably  well  up  in  the  Apothecary 
in  Romeo  and  Juliet  with  the  slightest  possible  dab  of  red  on 
the  tip  of  his  nose,  and  he'd  be  certain  of  three  rounds  the 
moment  he  put  his  head  out  of  the  practicable  door  in  the 
front  grooves  O.  P." 

"  You  view  him  with  a  professional  eye,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  And  well  I  may,"  rejoined  the  manager,  "  I  never  saw  a 
young  fellow  so  regularly  cut  out  for  that  line,  since  I've 
been  in  the  profession.  And  I  played  the  heavy  children 
when  I  was  eighteen  months  old." 

The  appearance  of  the  beef-steak  pudding,  which  came  in 
simultaneously  with  the  junior  Vincent  Crummleses,  turned 
the  conversation  to  other  matters,  and  indeed,  for  a  time, 
stopped  it  altogether.  These  two  young  gentlemen  wielded 
their  knives  and  forks  with  scarcely  less  address  than  their 
broad-swords,  and  as  the  whole  party  were  quite  as  sharp  set 
as  either  class  of  weapons,  there  was  no  time  for  talking  until 
the  supper  had  been  disposed  of. 

The  Master  Crummleses  had  no  sooner  swallowed  the  last 
procurable  morsel  of  food,  than  they  evinced,  by  various  half- 
suppressed  yawns  and  stretchings  of  their  limbs,  an  obvious 
inclination  to  retire  for  the  night,  which  Smike  had  betrayed 
still  more  strongly  :  he  having,  in  the  course  of  the  meal, 
fallen  asleep  several  times  while  in  the  very  act  of  eating. 
Nicholas  therefore  proposed  that  they  should  break  up  at 
once,  but  the  manager  would  by  no  means  hear  of  it  ;  vowing 
that  he  had  promised  himself  the  pleasure  of  inviting  his  new 


284  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

acquaintance  to  share  a  bowl  of  punch,  and  that  if  he  declined, 
he  should  deem  it  very  unhandsome  behavior. 

"  Let  them  go,"  said  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies,  "  and  we'll 
have  it  snugly  and  cosily  together  by  the  fire." 

Nicholas  was  not  much  disposed  to  sleep — being  in  truth 
too  anxious — so,  after  a  little  demur,  he  accepted  the  ofYer, 
and  having  exchanged  a  shake  of  the  hand  with  the  young 
Crummleses,  and  the  manager  having  on  his  part  bestowed  a 
most  affectionate  benediction  on  Smike,  he  sat  himself  down 
opposite  to  that  gentleman  by  the  fireside  to  assist  in  empty- 
ing the  bowl,  which  soon  afterwards  appeared,  steaming  in  a 
manner  which  was  quite  exhilarating  to  behold,  and  sending 
forth  a  most  grateful  and  in\'iting  fragrance. 

But,  despite  the  punch  and  the  manager,  who  told  a  variety 
of  stories,  and  smoked  tobacco  from  a  pipe,  and  inhaled  it  in 
the  shape  of  snuff,  with  a  most  astonishing  power,  Nicholas 
was  absent  and  dispirited.  His  thoughts  were  in  his  old 
home,  and  when  they  reverted  to  his  present  condition,  the 
uncertainty  of  the  morrow  cast  a  gloom  upon  him,  which  his 
utmost  efforts  were  unable  to  dispel.  His  attention  wandered ; 
although  he  heard  the  manager's  voice  he  was  deaf  to  what 
he  said  ;  and  when  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  concluded  the  his- 
tory of  some  long  adventure  with  a  loud  laugh,  and  an  inquiry 
what  Nicholas  would  have  done  under  the  same  circumstances, 
he  was  obliged  to  make  the  best  apology  in  his  power,  and  to 
confess  his  entire  ignorance  of  all  he  had  been  talking  about. 

"  Why,  so  I  saw,"  observed  Mr.  Crummies.  "  You're 
uneasy  in  your  mind.     What's  the  matter  ?  " 

Nicholas  could  not  refrain  from  smiling  at  the  abruptness 
of  the  question  ;  but,  thinking  it  scarcely  worth  while  to  parry 
it,  owned  that  he  was  under  some  apprehensions  lest  he  might 
not  succeed  in  the  object  which  had  brought  him  to  that  part 
of  the  country. 

"And  what's  that?  "  asked  the  manager. 

"  Getting  something  to  do  which  will  keep  me  and  my  poor 
fellow-traveller  in  the  common  necessaries  of  life,"  said  Nich- 
olas. "  That's  the  truth.  You  guessed  it  long  ago,  I  dare 
say,  so  I  may  as  well  have  the  credit  of  telling  it  you  with  a 
good  grace." 

"  What's  to  be  got  to  do  at  Portsmouth  more  than  any- 
where else  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  melting  the  seal- 
ing-wax on  the  stem  of  his  pipe  in  the  candle,  and  rolling  it 
out  afresh  with  his  little  finger. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  285 

"  There  are  many  vessels  leaving  the  port,  I  suppose," 
replied  Nicholas.  "  I  shall  try  for  a  berth  in  some  ship  or 
other.     There  is  meat  and  drink  there,  at  all  events." 

"  Salt  meat  and  new  rum  ;  pease-pudding  and  chaff-bis- 
cuits," said  the  manager,  taking  a  whiff  at  his  pipe  to  keep  it 
alight,  and  returning  to  his  work  of  embellishment. 

"  One  may  do  worse  than  that,"  said  Nicholas.  "  I  can 
rough  it,  I  believe,  as  well  as  most  young  men  of  my  age  and 
previous  habits." 

"  You  need  be  able  to,"  said  the  manager,  "  if  you  go  on 
board  ship  ;  but  you  won't." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  there's  not  a  skipper  or  mate  that  would  think 
you  worth  your  salt,  when  he  could  get  a  practiced  hand,"  re- 
plied the  manager ;  "  and  they  as  plentiful  there,  as  the  oys- 
ters in  the  streets." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Nicholas,  alarmed  by  this 
prediction,  and  the  confident  tone  in  which  it  had  been  uttered. 
"  Men  are  not  born  able  seamen.  They  must  be  reared,  I  sup- 
pose ? " 

Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  nodded  his  head.  "  They  must  ; 
but  not  at  your  age,  or  from  young  gentlemen  like  you." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  countenance  of  Nicholas  fell, 
and  he  gazed  ruefully  at  the  fire. 

"  Does  no  other  profession  occur  to  you,  which  a  young 
man  of  your  figure  and  address  could  take  up  easily,  and  see 
the  world  to  advantage  in  ?  "  asked  the  manager. 

"  No,"  said  Nicholas,  shaking  his  head. 

"Why,  then,  I'll  tell  you  one,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  throw- 
ing his  pipe  into  the  fire,  and  raising  his  voice.    "  The  stage." 

"  The  stage  !  "  cried  Nicholas,  in  a  voice  almost  as  loud. 

"  The  theatrical  profession,"  said  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies. 
"  I  am  in  the  theatrical  profession  myself,  my  wife  is  in  the 
theatrical  profession,  my  children  are  in  the  theatrical  profes- 
sion. I  had  a  dog  that  li\'ed  and  died  in  it  from  a  puppy  ; 
and  my  chaise-pony  goes  on  in  Timour  the  Tartar.  I'll  bring 
you  out,  and  your  friend  too.    Say  the  word.    I  want  a  novelty." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  rejoined  Nicholas, 
whose  breath  had  been  almost  taken  away  by  this  sudden  pro- 
posal.    "  I  never  acted  a  part  in  my  life,  except  at  school." 

"  There's  genteel  comedy  in  your  walk  and  manner,  juvenile 
tragedy  in  your  eve,  and  touch-and-go  farce  in  your  laugh." 
said  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies.    "  You'll  do  as  well  as  if  you  had 


286  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

thought  of  nothing  else  but  the  lamps,  from  your  birth  down- 
wards." 

Nicholas  thought  of  the  small  amount  of  small  change  that 
would  remain  in  his  pocket  after  paying  the  tavern  bill  ;  and 
he  hesitated. 

"  You  can  be  useful  to  us  in  a  hundred  ways,"  said  Mr. 
Crummies.  "  Think  what  capital  bills  a  man  of  your  educa- 
tion could  write  for  the  shop  windows." 

"Well  I  think  I  could  manage  that  department,"  said 
Nicholas. 

"  To  be  sure  you  could,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies.  "  '  For 
further  particulars  see  small  hand-bills ' — we  might  have  half 
a  volume  in  every  one  of  'em.  Pieces  too ;  why,  you  could 
write  us  a  piece  to  bring  out  the  whole  strength  of  the  com- 
pany, whenever  we  wanted  one." 

"  I  am  not  quite  so  confident  about  that,"  replied  Nicholas 
"  But  I  dare  say  I  could  scribble  something  now  and  then, 
that  would  suit  you." 

"  We'll  have  a  new  show  piece  out  directly,"  said  the 
manager.  "  Let  me  see — peculiar  resources  of  this  establish- 
ment— new  and  splendid  scenery — you  must  manage  to  intro- 
duce a  real  pump  and  two  washing-tubs." 

"  Into  the  piece  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  manager.  "I  bought  'em  cheap  at  a 
sale  the  other  day,  and  they'll  come  in  admirably.  That's  the 
London  plan.  They  look  up  some  dresses  and  properties,  and 
have  a  piece  written  to  fit  'em.  Most  of  the  theatres  keep  an 
author  on  purpose." 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  Nicholas. 

"Oh  yes,"  said  the  manager;  "a  common  thing.  It'll 
look  very  well  in  the  bills  in  separate  lines — Real  pump  ! 
— Splendid  tubs  ! — Great  attraction  !  You  don't  happen  to  be 
anything  of  an  artist,  do  you  .'  " 

"  That  is  not  one  of  my  accomplishments,"  rejoined 
Nicholas. 

"  Ah  !  Then  it  can't  be  helped,"  said  the  manager.  "  If 
you  had  been,  we  might  have  had  a  large  woodcut  of  the  last 
scene  for  the  posters,  showing  the  whole  depth  of  the  stage, 
with  the  pump  and  tubs  in  the  middle  ;  but,  however,  if  you're 
not,  it  can't  be  helped." 

"  What  should  I  get  for  all  this  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas,  after 
a  few  moments'  reflection.    "  Could  I  live  by  it  ?" 

"  Live  by  it !  "  said  the  manager.     "  Like  a  prince  !    With 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  287 

your  own  salary,  and  your  friends,  and  your  writings,  you'd 
make — ah  !  you'd  make  a  pound  a  week  !  " 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  " 

"  I  do  indeed,  and  if  we  had  a  run  of  good  houses,  nearly 
double  the  money." 

Nicholas  shrugged  his  shoulders  ;  but  sheer  destitution  was 
before  him  ;  and  if  he  could  summon  fortitude  to  undergo  the 
extremes  of  want  and  hardship,  for  what  had  he  rescued  his 
helpless  charge  if  it  were  only  to  bear  as  hard  a  fate  as  that 
from  which  he  had  wrested  him  ?  It  was  easy  to  think  of 
seventy  miles  as  nothing,  when  he  was  in  the  same  town  with 
the  man  who  had  treated  him  so  ill  and  roused  his  bitterest 
thoughts  ;  but  now,  it  seemed  far  enough.  What  if  he  went 
abroad,  and  his  mother  or  Kate  were  to  die  the  while  ? 

Without  more  deliberation,  he  hastily  declared  that  it  was 
a  bargain,  and  gave  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  his  hand  upon  it. 


^«^ 


CHAPTER  XXIII.        \ 

TREATS  OF  THE  COMPANY   OF    MR.  VINCENT   CRUMMLES,  AND  OF 
HIS  AFFAIRS,  DOMESTIC    AND  THEATRICAL. 

As  Mr.  Crummies  had  a  strange  four-legged  animal  in  the 
inn  stables,  which  he  called  a  pony,  and  a  vehicle  of  unknown 
design,  on  which  he  bestowed  the  appellation  of  a  four-wheeled 
phaeton,  Nicholas  proceeded  on  his  journey  next  morning 
with  greater  ease  than  he  had  expected  ;  the  manager  and  him- 
self occupying  the  front  seat  ;  and  the  Master  Crummleses 
and  Smike  being  packed  together  behind,  in  company  with  a 
wicker  basket  defended  from  wet  by  a  stout  oilskin,  in  which 
were  the  broad-swords,  pistols,  pigtails,  nautical  costumes, 
and  other  professional  necessaries  of  the  aforesaid  young 
gentlemen. 

The  pony  took  his  time  upon  the  road,  and — possibly  in 
consequence  of  his  theatrical  education — evinced,  every  now 
and  then,  a  stroner  inclination  to  lie  down.  However,  Mr. 
Vincent  Crummies  kept  him  up  pretty  well,  by  jerkmg  the 
rein,  and  plying  the  whip  ;  and  when  these  means  failed,  and 
the  animal  came  to  a  stand,  the  elder  Master  Crummies  got 


28S  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

out  and  kicked  him.  By  dint  of  these  encouragements,  he 
was  persuaded  to  move  from  time  to  time,  and  they  jogged  on 
(as  Mr.  Crummies  truly  observed)  very  comfortably  for  all 
parties. 

"  He's  a  good  pony  at  bottom,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  turn- 
ing to  Nicholas. 

He  might  have  been  at  bottom,  but  he  certainly  was  not 
at  top,  seeing  that  his  coat  was  of  the  roughest  and  most  ill- 
favored  kind.  So,  Nicholas  merely  observed  that  he  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  was. 

"  Many  and  many  is  the  circuit  this  pony  has  gone,"  said 
Mr.  Crummies,  flicking  him  skilfully  on  the  eyelid  for  old 
acquaintance  sake.  "  He  is  quite  one  of  us.  His  mother  was 
on  the  stage." 

"  Was  she  ?  "  rejoined  Nicholas. 

"  She  ate  apple-pie  at  a  circus  for  upwards  of  fourteen 
years,"  said  the  manager  ;  "  fired  pistols,  and  went  to  bed  in  a 
nightcap ;  and,  in  short,  took  the  low  comedy  entirely.  His 
father  was  a  dancer." 

"  Was  he  at  all  distinguished  ?  " 

"Not  very,"  said  the  manager.  "  He  was  rather  a  low  sort 
of  pony.  The  fact  is,  he  had  been  originally  jobbed  out  by 
the  day,  and  he  never  quite  got  over  his  old  habits.  He  was 
clever  in  melodrama  too,  but  too  broad — too  broad.  When 
the  mother  died  he  took  the  port  wine  business." 

"  The  port  wine  business  ! '"  cried  Nicholas. 

"  Drinking  port  wine  with  the  clown,"  said  the  manager  ; 
"but  he  was  greedy,  and  one  night  bit  off  the  bowl  of  the  glass 
and  choked  himself,  so  his  vulgarity  was  the  death  of  him  at 
last." 

The  descendant  of  this  ill-starred  animal  requiring  in- 
creased attention  from  Mr.  Crummies  as  he  progressed  in  his 
day's  work,  that  gentleman  had  veiy  little  time  for  conversa- 
tion. Nicholas  was  thus  left  at  leisure  to  entertain  himself 
with  his  own  thoughts,  until  they  arrived  at  the  drawbridge  at 
Portsmouth,  when  Mr.  Crummies  pulled  up 

"  We'll  get  down  here,"  said  the  manager,  "  and  the  boys 
will  take  him  round  to  the  stable,  and  call  at  my  lodgings 
with  the  luggage.  You  had  better  let  yours  be  taken  there, 
for  the  present." 

Thanking  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  for  his  obliging  offer, 
Nicholas  jumped  out,  and,  giving  Smike  his  arm,  accompanied 
the  manager  up  High  Street  on  their  way  to  the  theatre  \  feel- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  289 

ing  nervous  and  uncomfortable  enough  at  the  prospect  of  an 
immediate  introduction  to  a  scene  so  new  to  him. 

They  passed  a  great  many  bills,  pasted  against  the  walls 
and  displayed  in  windows,  wherein  the  names  of  Mr.  Vincent 
Crummies,  Mrs.  Vincent  Crummies,  Master  Crummies,  Mas- 
ter P.  Crummies,  and  Miss  Crummies,  were  printed  in  very 
large  letters,  and  everything  else  in  very  small  ones  ;  and, 
turning  at  length  into  an  entry,  in  which  was  a  strong  smell 
of  orange-peel  and  lamp-oil,  with  an  under-current  of  saw-dust, 
groped  their  way  through  a  dark  passage,  and,  descending  a 
step  or  two,  threaded  a  little  maze  of  canvas  screens  and  paint- 
pots,  and  emerged  upon  the  stage  of  the  Portsmouth  Theatre. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  Mr.  Crummies. 

It  was  not  very  light,  but  Nicholas  found  himself  close  to 
the  first  entrance  on  the  prompt  side,  among  bare  walls,  dusty 
scenes,  mildewed  clouds,  heavily  daubed  draperies,  and  dirty 
floors.  He  looked  about  him ;  ceiling,  pit,  boxes,  gallery, 
orchestra,  fittings,  and  decorations  of  every  kind, — all  looked 
coarse,  cold,  gloomy,  and  wretched. 

"  Is  this  a  theatre  ?  "  whispered  Smike,  in  amazement ; 
"  I  thought  it  was  a  blaze  of  light  and  finer}'." 

"  Why,  so  it  is,"  replied  Nicholas,  hardly  less  surprised  ; 
"  but  not  by  day,  Smike — not  by  day." 

The  manager's  voice  recalled  him  from  a  more  careful  in- 
spection of  the  building,  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  proscenium, 
where,  at  a  small  mahogany  table  with  rickety  legs,  and  of  an 
oblong  shape,  sat  a  stout,  portly  female,  apparently  between 
forty  and  fifty,  in  a  tarnished  silk  cloak,  with  her  bonnet 
dangling  by  the  strings  in  her  hand,  and  her  hair  (of  which 
she  had  a  great  quantity)  braided  in  a  large  festoon  over  each 
temple. 

"  Mr.  Johnson,"  said  the  manager  (for  Nicholas  had  given 
the  name  which  Newman  Noggs  had  bestowed  upon  him  in 
his  conversation  with  Mrs.  Kenwigs),  "  let  me  introduce  Mrs. 
Vincent  Crummies." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Vincent  Cnmimles, 
in  a  sepulchral  voice.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  and  still 
more  happy  to  hail  you  as  a  promising  member  of  our  corps." 

The  lady  shook  Nicholas  by  the  hand  as  she  addressed 
him  ill  these  terms  ;  he  saw  it  was  a  large  one,  but  had  not 
expected  quite  such  an  iron  grip  as  that  with  which  she 
honored  him. 

"And  this,"  said   the  lady,  crossing  to   Smike,  as  tragic 

19 


290 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY 


actresses  cross  when  they  obey  a  stage  direction,  "  and  this 
is  the  other.     You  too,  are  welcome,  sir." 

"  He'll  do,  I  think,  my  dear  ?  "  said  the  manager,  taking  a 
pinch  of  snuff. 

"  He  is  admirable,"  replied  the  lady.  "  An  acquisition 
indeed." 

As  Mrs.  Vincent  Crummies  recrossed  back  to  the  table, 
there  bounded  on  to  the  sta-^e  from  some  mysterious  inlet,  a 
little  girl  in  a  dirty  white  frock  with  tucks  up  to  the  knees, 
short  trousers,  sandaled  shoes,  white  spencer,  pink  gauze 
bonnet,  green  veil  and  curl-papers  ;  who  turned  a  pirouette, 
cut  twice  in  the  air,  turned  another  pirouette,  then,  looking 
off  at  the  opposite  wing,  shrieked,  bounded  forward  to  within 
six  inches  of  the  footlights,  and  fell  into  a  beautiful  attitude 
of  terror,  as  a  shabby  gentleman  in  an  old  pair  of  buff  slippers 
came  in  at  one  powerful  slide,  and  chattering  his  teeth,  fiercely 
brandished  a  walking-stick. 

"  They  are  going  through  the  Indian  Savage  and  the 
Maiden,"  said  Mrs.  Crummies. 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  manager,  "  the  little  ballet  interlude. 
Very  good,  go  on.  A  little  this  wav,  if  you  please,  Mr.  John- 
son.    That'll  do.     Now  !  " 

The  manager  clapped  his  hands  as  a  signal  to  proceed, 
and  the  savage,  becoming  ferocious,  made  a  slide  towards  the 
maiden  ;  but  the  maiden  avoided  him  in  six  twirls,  and  came 
down,  at  the  end  of  the  last  one,  upon  the  very  points  of  her 
toes.  This  seemed  to  make  some  impression  upon  the  savage  ; 
for,  after  a  little  more  ferocity  and  chasing  of  the  maiden  into 
corners,  he  began  to  relent,  and  stroked  his  face  several  times 
with  his  right  thumb  and  forefingers,  thereby  intimating  that 
he  was  struck  with  admiration  of  the  maiden's  beauty.  Acting 
upon  the  impulse  of  this  passion,  he  (the  savage)  began  to  hit 
himself  severe  thumps  in  the  chest,  and  to  exhibit  other  in- 
dications of  being  desperately  in  love,  which  being  rather  a 
prosy  proceeding,  was  very  likely  the  cause  of  the  maiden's 
falling  asleep  ;  whether  it  was  or  no,  asleep  she  did  fall, 
sound  as  a  church,  on  a  sloping  bank,  and  the  savage  per- 
ceiving it,  leant  his  left  ear  on  his  left  hand,  and  nodded  side- 
ways, to  intimate  to  all  whom  it  might  concern  that  she  was 
asleep,  and  no  shamming.  Being  left  to  himself,  the  savage 
had  a  dance,  all  alone.  Just  as  he  left  off,  the  maiden  woke 
up,  rubbed  her  eyes,  got  off  the  bank,  and  had  a  dance  all 
alone  too — such  a  dance  that  the  savage  looked  on  in  ecstasy 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  291 

all  the  while,  and  when  it  was  done,  plucked  from  a  neighbor- 
ing^  tree  some  botanical  curiosity,  resembling  a  small  pickled 
cabbage,  and  offered  it  to  the  maiden,  who  at  first  wouldn't 
have  it,  but  on  the  savage  shedding  tears  relented.  Then 
the  savage  jumped  for  joy  ;  then  the  maiden  jumped  for  rap- 
ture at  the  sweet  smell  of  the  pickled  cabbage.  Then  the 
savage  and  the  maiden  danced  violently  together,  and,  finally, 
the  savage  dropped  down  on  one  knee,  and  the  maiden  stood 
on  one  leg  upon  his  other  knee ;  thus  concluding  the  ballet, 
and  leaving  the  spectators  in  a  state  of  pleasing  uncertainty, 
whether  she  would  ultimately  marry  the  savage,  or  return  to 
her  friends. 

"Very  well  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Crummies  ;  "bravo  !  " 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Nicholas,  resolved  to  make  the  best  of 
ever^'thing.     "  Beautiful  !  " 

"This,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies,  bringing  the 
maiden  forward,  "  This  is  the  infant  phenomenon — Miss 
Ninetta  Crummies." 

"  Your  daughter  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas. 

"  My  daughter — my  daughter,"  replied  Mr.  Vincent 
Crummies ;  "  the  idol  of  ever}'  place  we  go  into,  sir.  We 
have  had  complimentary  letters  about  this  girl,  sir,  from  the 
nobility  and  gentry  of  almost  every  town  in  England." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  that,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "  she  must 
be  quite  a  natural  genius." 

"Quite  a —  !  "  Mr.  Crummies  stopped  :  language  was  not 
powerful  enough  to  describe  the  infant  phenomenon.  "  I'll  tell 
you  what,  sir,"  he  said  ;  "  the  talent  of  this  child  is  not  to  be 
imagined.  She  must  be  seen,  sir — seen — to  be  ever  so  faintly 
appreciated.     There  ;  go  to  your  mother,  mv  dear." 

"  May  I  ask  how  old  she  is .'  "  inquired  Nicholas. 

"You  may,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies,  looking  steadily 
in  his  questioner's  face,  as  some  men  do  when  they  have 
doubts  about  being  implicitly  believed  in  what  they  are  going 
to  say.     "  She  is  ten  years  of  age,  sir." 

"  Not  more  !  " 

"  Not  a  day." 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Nicholas,  "it's  extraordinar)'." 

It  was  ;  for  the  infant  phenomenon,  though  of  short  stature, 
had  a  comparatively  aged  countenance,  and  had  moreover 
been  precisely  the  same  age — -not  perha])s  to  the  full  extent 
of  the  memor}'  of  the  oldest  inhabitant,  but  certainly  for  five 
good  years.     But  she  had  been  kept  up  late  every  night,  and 


292  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

put  upon  an  unlimited  allowance  of  gin  and  water  from  in- 
fancy, to  prevent  her  growing  tall,  and  perhaps  this  system  of 
training  had  produced  in  the  infant  phenomenon  these  addi- 
tional phenomena. 

While  this  short  dialogue  was  going  on,  the  gentleman 
who  had  enacted  the  savage,  came  up,  with  his  walking  shoes 
on  his  feet,-  and  his  slippers  in  his  hand,  to  within  a  few 
paces,  as  if  desirous  to  join  in  the  conversation.  Deeming  this 
a  good  opportunity,  he  put  in  his  word. 

"  Talent  there,  sir  !  "  said  the  savage,  nodding  towards  Miss 
Crummies. 

Nicholas  assented. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  actor,  setting  his  teeth  together,  and  draw- 
ing in  his  breath  with  a  hissing  sound,  "  she  oughtn't  to  be  in 
the  provinces,  she  oughtn't." 

"What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  the  manager. 

"I  mean  to  say,"  replied  the  other,  warmly,  "that  she  is 
too  good  for  country  boards,  and  that  she  ought  to  be  in  one 
of  the  large  houses  in  London,  or  nowhere  ;  and  I  tell  you 
more,  without  mincing  the  matter,  that  if  it  wasn't  for  envy 
and  jealousy  in  some  quarter  that  you  know  of,  she  would 
be.     Perhaps  you'll  introduce  me  here,  Mr.  Crummies." 

"  Mr.  Folair,"  said  the  manager,  presenting  him  to  Nich- 
olas. 

"  Happy  to  know  you,  sir."  Mr.  Folair  touched  the  brim 
of  his  hat  with  his  forefinger,  and  then  shook  hands.  "  A 
recruit,  sir,  I  understand  .-"  " 

"  An  unworthy  one,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  set  out  as  that  ?  "  whispered  the 
actor,  drawing  him  away,  as  Crummies  left  them  to  speak  to 
his  wife. 

"  As  what  ?  " 

Mr.  Folair  made  a  funny  face  from  his  pantomime  collec- 
tion, and  pointed  over  his  shoulder. 

"  You  don't  mean  the  infant  phenomenon  .?  " 

"  Infant  humbug,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Folair.  "There  isn't  a 
female  child  of  common  sharpness  in  a  charity  school,  that 
couldn't  do  better  than  that.  She  may  thank  her  stars  she 
was  born  a  manager's  daughter." 

"  You  seem  to  take  it  to  heart,"  observed  Nicholas,  with  a 
smile. 

"Yes,  by  Jove,  and  well  I  may,"  said  Mr.  Folair,  drawing 
his  arm  through  his,  and  walking  him  up  and  down  the  stage. 


NICHOLAS  NICK'LEBY.  293 

"  Isn't  it  enough  to  make  a  man  crusty  to  see  that  Utile 
sprawler  put  up  in  the  best  business  every  night,  and  actually 
keeping  money  out  of  the  house,  by  being  forced  down  the 
people's  throats,  while  other  people  are  passed  over  ?  Isn't 
it  extraordinary  to  see  a  man's  confounded  family  conceit 
blinding  him,  even  to  his  own  interest?  Why  I  knowoi  fifteen 
and  sixpence  that  came  to  Southampton  one  night  last 
month,  to  see  me  dance  the  Highland  Fling  ;  and  what's  the 
consequence?  I've  never  been  put  up  in  it  since — never  once 
— while  the  '  infant  phenomenon  '  has  been  grinning  through 
artificial  flowers  at  fi\'e  people  and  a  baby  in  the  pit,  and  two 
boys  in  the  galleiy,  every  night." 

"  If  I  may  judge  from  what  I  have  seen  of  you,"  said 
Nicholas,  "  you  must  be  a  valuable  member  of  the  company." 

"  Oh  !  "  replied  Mr.  Folair,  beating  his  slippers  together, 
to  knock  the  dust  out  ;  "  I  can  come  it  pretty  well — nobody 
better,  perhaps,  in  my  line — but  having  such  business  as  one 
gets  here,  is  like  putting  lead  on  one's  feet  instead  of  chalk, 
and  dancing  in  fetters  without  the  credit  of  it.  Holloa,  old  fel- 
low, how  are  you  ?  " 

The  gentleman  addressed  in  the  latter  words,  was  a  dark 
complexioned  man,  inclining  indeed  to  sallow,  with  long 
thick  black  hair,  and  very  evident  indications  (although  he 
was  close  shaved)  of  a  stiff  beard,  and  whiskers  of  the  same 
deep  shade.  His  age  did  not  appear  to  exceed  thirty,  though 
many  at  first  sight  would  ha\'e  considered  him  much  older,  as 
his  face  was  long,  and  very  pale  from  the  constant  application 
of  stage  paint.  He  wore  a  checked  shirt,  an  old  green  coat 
with  new  gilt  buttons,  a  neckerchief  of  broad  red  and  green 
stripes,  and  full  blue  trousers  ;  he  carried,  too,  a  common  ash 
walking-stick,  apparently  more  for  show  than  use,  as  he 
flourished  it  about,  with  the  hooked  end  downwards,  except 
when  he  raised  it  for  a  few  seconds,  and  throwing  himself  into 
a  fencing  attitude,  made  a  pass  or  two  at  the  side  scenes,  or 
at  any  other  object,  animate  or  inanimate,  that  chanced  to 
afford  him  a  pretty  good  mark  at  the  moment. 

"  Well,  Tommy,"  said  this  gentleman,  making  a  thrust  at 
his  friend,  who  parried  it  with  his  slipper,  "  what's  the  news  ?  " 

"A  new  appearance,  that's  all,"  replied  Mr.  Folair,  look- 
ing at  Nicholas. 

"  Do  the  honors.  Tommy,  do  the  honors,"  said  the  other 
gentleman,  tapping  him  reproachfully  on  the  crown  of  the  hat 
with  his  stick. 


204  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"This  is  Mr.  Lenville,  who  does  our  first  tragedy,  Mr. 
Johnson,"  said  the  pantomimist. 

"  Except  when  old  bricks  and  mortar  takes  it  into  his  head 
to  do  it  himself,  you  should  add,  Tommy,"'  remarked  Mr. 
Lenville.   "  You  know  who  bricks  and  mortar  is,  I  suppose,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,  indeed,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  We  call  Crummies  that,  because  his  style  of  acdng  is 
rather  in  the  heavy  and  ponderous  way,"  said  Mr.  Lenville.  "  I 
mustn't  be  cracking  jokes  though,  for  I've  got  apart  of  twelve 
lengths  here,  which  I  must  be  up  in  to-morrow  night,  and  I 
haven't  had  time  to  look  at  it  yet ;  Lm  a  confounded  quick 
study,  that's  one  comfort." 

Consoling  himself  with  this  reflection,  Mr.  Lenville  drew 
from  his  coat-pocket  a  greasy  and  crumpled  manuscript,  and, 
having  made  another  pass  at  his  friend,  proceeded  to  walk  to 
and  fro,  conning  it  to  himself  and  indulging  occasionally  in  such 
appropriate  action  as  his  imagination  and  the  text  suggested. 

A  pretty  general  muster  of  the  company  had  by  this  time 
taken  place  ;  for  besides  Mr.  Lenville  and  his  friend  Tommy, 
there  were  present,  a  slim  young  gentleman  with  weak  eyes, 
who  played  the  low-spirited  lovers  and  sang  tenor  songs,  and 
who  had  come  arm-in-arm  with  the  comic  countryman — a  man 
with  a  turned  up  nose,'  large  mouth,  broad  face,  and  staring 
eyes.  Making  himself  veiy  amiable  to  the  infant  phenomenon, 
was  an  inebriated  elderly  gentleman  in  the  last  depths  of 
shabbiness,  who  played  the  calm  and  virtuous  old  men  ;  and 
paying  especial  court  to  Mrs.  Crummies  was  another  elderly 
gentleman,  a  shade  more  respectable,  who  played  the  irascib/le 
old  men — those  funny  fellows  who  have  nephews  in  the  army 
and  perpetually  run  about  with  thick  sticks  to  compel  them  to 
marry  heiresses.  Besides  these  there  was  a  roving-looking  per- 
son in  a  rough  great-coat,  who  strode  up  and  down  in  front  of 
the  lamps,  flourishing  a  dress  cane,  and  rattling  away,  in  an 
undertone,  with  great  vivacity,  for  the  amusement  of  an  ideal 
audience.  He  was  not  quite  so  young  as  he  had  been,  and  his 
figure  was  rather  running  to  seed  ;  but  there  was  an  air  of 
exaggerated  gentility  about  him,  which  bespoke  the  hero  of 
swaggering  comedy.  There  was,  also,  a  little  group  of  three 
or  four  young  men,  with  lantern  jaws  and  thick  eyebrows, 
who  were  conversing  in  one  corner ;  but  they  seemed  to  be  of 
secondary  importance,  and  laughed  and  talked  together  with- 
out attracting  any  attention. 

The   ladies  were  gathered  in  a  little  knot  by  themselves 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  295 

round  the  rickety  table  before  mentioned.  There  was  Miss 
Snevellicci — who  could  do  anything,  from  a  medley  dance  to 
Lady  Macbeth,  and  also  always  played  some  part  in  blue  silk 
knee-smalls  at  her  benefit — glancing,  from  the  depths  of  her 
coal-scuttle  straw  bonnet,  at  Nicholas,  and  affecting  to  be 
absorbed  in  the  recital  of  a  diverting  story  to  her  friend  Miss 
Ledrook,  who  had  brought  her  work,  and  was  making  up  a 
ruff  in  the  most  natural  manner  possible.  There  was  Miss 
Belvawney — who  seldom  aspired  to  speaking  parts,  and  usually 
went  on  as  a  page  in  white  silk  hose,  to  stand  with  one  leg- 
bent,  and  contemplate  the  audience,  or  to  go  in  and  out  after 
Mr.  Crummies  in  stately  tragedy — twisting  up  the  ringlets  of 
the  beautiful  Miss  Bravassa,  who  had  once  had  her  likeness 
taken  "  in  character  "  by  an  engraver's  apprentice,  whereof  im- 
pressions were  hung  up  for  sale  in  the  pastry-cook's  window,  and 
the  green-grocer's,  and  at  the  circulating  library,  and  the  box- 
office,  whenever  the  announce  bills  came  out  for  her  annual 
night.  There  was  Mrs.  Lenville,  in  a  very  limp  bonnet  and 
veil,  decidedly  in  that  way  in  which  she  would  wish  to  be  if 
she  truly  loved  Mr.  Lenville  ;  there  was  Miss  Gazingi,  with 
an  imitation  ermine  boa  tied  in  a  loose  knot  round  her  neck, 
flogging  Mr.  Crummies,  junior,  with  both  ends,  in  fun.  Lastly, 
there  was  Mrs.  Grudden  in  a  brown  cloth  pelisse  and  a  beaver 
bonnet,  who  assisted  Mrs.  Crummies  in  her  domestic  affairs, 
and  took  money  at  the  doors,  and  dressed  the  ladies,  and 
swept  the  house,  and  held  the  prompt  book  when  everybody 
else  was  on  for  the  last  scene,  and  acted  any  kind  of  part  on 
any  emergency  without  ever  learning  it,  and  was  put  down  in 
the  bills  under  any  name  or  names  whatever,  that  occurred  to 
Mr.  Crummies  as  looking  well  in  print. 

Mr.  Folair  having  oliligin^'lv  confided  these  particulars  to 
Nicholas,  left  him  to  mingle  with  his  fellows  ;  the  work  of 
personal  introduction  was  completed  by  Mr.  Vincent  Crumm- 
ies, who  publicly  heralded  the  new  actor  as  a  prodigy  of  ge- 
nius and  learning. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci,  sidling 
towards  Nicholas,  "  but  did  you  ever  play  at  Canterbury  ? " 

"  I  never  did,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  I  recollect  meeting  a  gentleman  at  Canterbur}',"  said 
Miss  Snevellicci,  "  only  for  a  few  moments,  for  I  was  leaving 
the  company  as  he  joined  it,  so  like  you  that  I  felt  almost 
certain  it  was  the  same." 

"  I  see  you  now,  for  the  first  time,"  rejoined  Nicholas  with 


296 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


all  due  gallantry.  "  I  am  sure  I  never  saw  you  before  ;  I 
couldn't  have  forgotten  it." 

"Oh,  I'm  sure — it's  very  flattering  of  you  to  say  so,"  re- 
torted Miss  Snevellicci  with  a  graceful  bend.  "  Now  I  look 
at  you  again,  I  see  that  the  gentleman  at  Canterbury  hadn't 
the  same  eyes  as  you — you'll  thinli  me  very  foolish  for  taking 
notice  of  such  things,  won't  you  .'' " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Nicholas.  "How  can  I  feel  otherwise 
than  flattered  by  your  notice  in  any  way  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  men  are  such  vain  creatures  !  "  cried  Miss 
Snevellicci.  Whereupon,  she  became  charmingly  confused, 
and,  pulling  out  her  pocket-handkerchief  from  a  faded  pink 
silk  reticule  with  a  gilt  clasp,  called  to  Miss  Ledrook — 

"  Led,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci. 

"  Well,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  said  Miss  Ledrook. 

"  It's  not  the  same." 

"  Not  the  same  what  ?  " 

"  Canterbury — you  know  what  I  mean.  Come  here  !  I 
want  to  speak  to  you." 

But  Miss  Ledrook  wouldn't  come  to  Miss  Snevellicci,  so 
Miss  Snevellicci  was  obliged  to  go  to  Miss  Ledrook,  which 
she  did,  in  a  skipping  manner  that  was  quite  fascinating  ;  and 
Miss  Ledrook  evidently  joked  Miss  Snevellicci  about  being 
struck  with  Nicholas  ;  for,  after  some  playful  whispering,  Miss 
Snevellicci  hit  Miss  Ledrook  veiy  hard  on  the  backs  of  her 
hands,  and  retired  up,  in  a  state  of  pleasing  confusion. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies,  who 
had  been  writing  on  a  piece  of  paper,  "  we'll  call  the  Mortal 
Struggle  to-morrow  at  ten  ;  ever^-body  for  the  procession. 
Intrigue,  and  Ways  and  Means,  you're  all  up  in,  so  we  shall 
only  want  one  rehearsal.     Everybody  at  ten,  if  you  please." 

"  Everybody  at  ten,"  repeated  Mrs.  Grudden,  looking 
about  her. 

"On  Monday  morning  we  shall  read  a  new  piece,"  said 
Mr.  Crummies  ;  "  the  names  not  known  yet,  but  everybody 
will  have  a  good  part.     Mr.  Johnson  will  take  care  of  that." 

"  Hallo  !  "  said  Nicholas^  starting,  "  I " 

"  On  Monday  morning,"  repeated  Mr.  Crummies,  raising 
his  voice,  to  drown  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Johnson's  remon- 
strance ;  "that'll  do,  ladies  and  gentlemen." 

The  ladies  and  gentlemen  required  no  second  notice  to 
quit ;  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  the  theatre  was  deserted,  save  by 
the  Crummies'  family,  Nicholas,  and  Smike. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


297 


"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Nicholas,  taking  the  manager 
aside,  "  I  don't  think  I  can  be  ready  by  Monday." 

"Pooh,  pooh,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies. 

"But  really  1  can't,"  returned  Nicholas;  "my  invention 
is  not  accustomed  to  these  demands,  or  possibly  1  might 
produce " 

"  Invention  !  what  the  devil's  that  got  to  do  with  it  !  "  cried 
the  manager,  hastily. 

"  Everything,  my  dear  sir." 

"  Nothing,  my  dear  sir,"  retorted  the  manager,  with 
evident  impatience.     "  Do  you  understand  French  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  well." 

"Very  good,"  said  the  manager,  opening  the  table-drawer, 
and  giving  a  roll  of  paper  from  it  to  Nicholas.  "  There  I 
Just  turn  that  into  English,  and  put  your  name  on  the  title- 
page.  Damn  me,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  angrily,  "  If  I  haven't 
often  said  that  I  wouldn't  have  a  man  or  woman  in  my 
company  that  wasn't  master  of  the  language,  so  that  they 
might  learn  it  from  the  original,  and  play  it  in  English,  and 
save  all  this  trouble  and  expense." 

Nicholas  smiled  and  pocketed  the  play. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  your  lodgings  .-•  "  said 
Mr.  Crummies. 

Nicholas  could  not  help  thinking  that,  for  the  first  week, 
it  would  be  an  uncommon  convenience  to  have  a  turn-up  bed- 
stead in  the  pit,  but  he  merely  remarked  that  he  had  not 
turned  his  thoughts  that  way. 

"  Come  home  with  me  then,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  "  and 
my  boys  shall  go  with  you  after  dinner,  and  show  you  the 
most  likely  place." 

The  offer  was  not  to  be  refused  ;  Nicholas  and  Mr. 
Crummies  gave  Mrs.  Crummies  an  arm  each,  and  walked  up 
the  street  in  stately  array.  Smike,  the  boys,  and  the  phe- 
nomenon, went  home  by  a  shorter  cut,  and  Mrs.  Grudden 
remained  behind  to  take  some  cold  Irish  stew  and  a  pint  of 
porter  in  the  box-office. 

Mrs.  Crummies  trod  the  pavement  as  if  she  were  going 
to  immediate  execution  with  an  animating  consciousness 
of  innocence,  and  that  heroic  fortitude  which  virtue  alone 
inspires.  Mr.  Crummies,  on  the  other  hand,  assumed  the 
look  and  gait  of  a  hardened  despot  ;  but  they  both  attracted 
some  notice  from  many  of  the  passers-by,  and  when  they 
heard  a  whisper  of  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Crummies  !  "  or  saw  a  little 


2^8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

boy  run  back  to  stare  them  in  the  face,  the  severe  expression 
of  their  countenances  relaxed,  for  they  felt  it  was  popularity. 

Mr.  Crummies  lived  in  Saint  Thomas  Street,  at  the  house 
of  one  Bulph,  a  pilot,  who  sported  a  boat-green  door,  with 
window-frames  of  the  same  color,  and  had  the  little  finger  of 
a  drowned  man  on  his  parlor  mantel-shelf,  with  other  maritime 
and  natural  curiosities.  He  displayed  also  a  brass  knocker, 
a  brass  plate,  and  a  brass  bell  handle,  all  very  bright  and 
shining  ;  and  had  a  mast,  with  a  vane  on  the  top  of  it,  in  his 
back  yard. 

"  You  are  welcome,"  said  Mrs.  Crummies,  turning  round 
to  Nicholas  when  they  reached  the  bow-windowed  front  room 
on  the  first  floor. 

Nicholas  bowed  his  acknowledgments,  and  was  unfeignedly 
glad  to  see  the  cloth  laid. 

"  We  have  but  a  shoulder  of  mutton  with  onion  sauce,"' 
said  Mrs.  Crummies,  in  the  same  charnel-house  voice  ;  "  but 
such  as  our  dinner  is,  we  beg  you  to  partake  of  it." 

"  You  are  very  good,"  replied  Nicholas,  "  I  shall  do  it 
ample  justice." 

"Vincent,"  said  Mrs.  Crummies,   "what  is  the  hour?" 

"Five  minutes  past  dinner-time,"  said  Mr.   Crummies. 

Mrs.  Crummies  rang  the  bell.  "  Let  the  mutton  and  onion 
sauce  appear." 

The  slave  who  attended  upon  Mr.  Bulph's  lodgers,  dis- 
appeared, and  after  a  short  interval  re-appeared  with  the  fes- 
tive banquet.  Nicholas  and  the  infant  phenomenon  opposed 
each  other  at  the  pembroke-table,  and  Smike  and  the  master 
Crummleses  dined  on  the  sofa  bedstead. 

"  Are  they  very  theatrical  people  here  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies,  shaking  his  head,  "far 
from  it — far  from  it." 

"  I  pity  them,"  observed  Mrs.  Crummies. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Nicholas;  "if  they  have  no  relish  for 
theatrical  entertainments,  properly  conducted." 

"  Then  they  have  none,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Crummies.  "  To 
the  infant's  benefit,  last  year,  on  which  occasion  she  repeated 
three  of  her  most  popular  characters,  and  also  appeared  in  the 
Fairy  Porcupine,  as  originally  performed  by  her,  there  was  a 
house  of  no  more  than  four  pound  twelve." 
"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  cried  Nicholas. 

"  y\nd  two  pound  of  that  was  trust,  pa,"  said  the  phe- 
nomenon. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  299 

"And  two  pound  of  that  was  trust,"  repeated  Mr.  Crumm- 
ies.    ''  Mrs.  Crummies  herself  has  played  to  mere  handfuls." 

**  But  they  are  always  a  taking  audience,  Vincent,"  said 
the  manager's  wife. 

"  Most  audiences  are,  when  they  have  good  acting — real 
good  acting — the  regular  thing,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies, 
forcibly. 

"Do  you  give  lessons,  ma'am  .^"  inquired  Nicholas.     • 

"I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Crummies. 

"  There  is  no  teaching  here,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"There  has  been,"  said  Mrs.  Crummies.  "I  have  re- 
ceived pupils  here.  I  imparted  tuition  to  the  daughter  of  a 
dealer  in  ships'  provision  ;  but  it  afterwards  appeared  that 
she  was  insane  when  she  first  came  to  me.  It  was  ver}^  ex- 
traordinary that  she  would  come,  under  such  circumstances." 

Not  feeling  quite  so  sure  of  that,  Nicholas  thought  it  best 
to  hold  his  peace. 

"  Let  me  see,"'  said  the  manager,  cogitating  after  dinner. 
"  Would  you  like  some  nice  little  part  with  the  infant  ?  " 

"You  are  ver\^  good,"  replied  Nicholas  hastily;  "but  I 
think  perhaps  it  would  be  better  if  I  had  somebody  of  my  own 
size  at  first,  in  case  I  should  turnout  awkward.  I  should  feel 
more  at  home  perhaps." 

"True,"  said  the  manager.  "  Perhaps  you  would.  And 
you  could  play  up  to  the  infant,  in  time,  you  know." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Nicholas:  devoutlv  hoping  that  it 
would  be  a  very  long  time  before  he  was  honored  with  this 
distinction. 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do."  said  Mr.  Crummies. 
"You  shall  study  Romeo  when  you've  done  that  piece — don't 
forget  to  throw  the  pump  and  the  tubs  in  by  the  bye — Juliet 
Miss  Snevellicci,  old  Grudden  the  nurse. — Yes,  that'll  do  very 
well.  Rover  too  ; — you  might  get  up  Rover  while  you  were 
about  it,  and  Cassio,  and  Jeremy  Diddler.  You  can  easilv 
knock  them  off;  one  part  helps  the  other  so  much.  Here 
they  are,  cues  and  all." 

With  these  hasty  general  directions  Mr.  Crummies  thrust 
a  number  of  little  books  into  the  faltering  hands  of  Nicholas, 
and  bidding  his  eldest  son  go  with  him  and  show  where 
lodgings  were  to  be  had,  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  wished 
him  good-night. 

There  is  no  lack  of  comfortable  furnished  apartments  in 
Portsmouth,  and  no  difficulty  in  finding  some  that   are  pro- 


300  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

portionate  to  very  slender  finances  ;  but  the  former  were  too 
good,  and  the  latter  too  bad,  and  they  went  into  so  many 
houses,  and  came  out  unsuited,  that  Nicholas  seriously  began 
to  think  he  should  be  obliged  to  ask  permission  to  spend  the 
night  in  the  theatre  after  all. 

Eventually,  however,  they  stumbled  upon  two  small  rooms 
up  three  pair  of  stairs,  or  rather  two  pair  and  a  ladder,  at  a 
tobacconist's  shop,  on  the  Common  Hard  :  a  dirty  street  lead- 
ing down  to  the  dockyard.  These  Nicholas  engaged,  only  too 
happy  to  have  escaped  any  request  for  payment  of  a  week's 
rent  beforehand. 

"There!  Lay  down  our  personal  property,  Smike,"  he 
said,  after  showing  young  Crummies  down  stairs.  "  We  have 
fallen  upon  strange  times,  and  Heaven  only  knows  the  end  of 
them  :  but  I  am  tired  with  the  events  of  these  three  days,  and 
will  postpone  reflection  till  to-morrow — if  I  can." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


OF    THE    GREAT     BESPEAK     FOR     MISS     SNEVELLICCI,    AND     THE 
FIRST   APPEARANCE    OF    NICHOLAS    UPON    ANY    STAGE 

Nicholas  was  up  betimes  in  the  morning ;  but  he  had 
scarcely  begun  to  dress,  notwithstanding,  when  he  heard  foot- 
steps ascending  the  stairs,  and  was  presently  saluted  by  the 
voices  of  Mr.  Folair  the  pantomimist,  and  Mr.  Lenville,  the 
tragedian. 

"  House,  house,  house!"  cried  Mr.  Folair. 

"  What,  ho  !  within  there  !  "  said  Mr.  Lenville,  in  a  deep 
voice. 

"  Confound  these  fellows  !  "  thought  Nicholas  ;  "  they 
have  come  to  breakfast,  I  suppose.  I'll  open  the  door 
directly,  if  you'll  wait  an  instant." 

The  gentlemen  entreated  him  not  to  hurry  himself  ;  and, 
to  beguile  the  interval,  had  a  fencing  bout  with  their  walking- 
sticks  on  the  very  small  landing-place  :  to  the  unspeakable 
discomposure  of  all  the  other  lodgers  down  stairs. 

"  Here,  come  in,"  said  Nicholas,  when  he  had  completed 
his  toilet.  "  In  the  name  of  all  that's  horrible,  don't  make 
that  noise  outside." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  301 

"An  uncommon  snug  little  box  this,"  said  Mr.  Lenville, 
stepping  into  the  front  room,  and  taking  his  hat  off,  before  he 
could  get  in  at  all.     "  Pernicious  snug." 

"  For  a  man  at  all  particular  in  such  matters,  it  might  be 
a  trifle  too  snug,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "  for,  although  it  is,  un- 
doubtedly, a  great  con\enience  to  be  able  to  reach  anything 
you  want  from  the  ceiling  or  the  floor,  or  either  side  of  the 
room,  without  having  to  move  from  your  chair,  still  these  ad- 
vantages can  only  be  had  in  an  apartment  of  the  most  limited 
size." 

"  It  isn't  a  bit  too  confined  for  a  single  man,"  returned 
Mr.  Lenville.  "That  reminds  me, — my  wife,  Mr.  Johnson, — 
I  hope  she'll  have  some  good  part  in  this  piece  of  yours  ?  " 

"  I  glanced  at  the  French  copy  last  night,"  said  Nicholas. 
"  It  looks  very  good  I  think." 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  for  me,  old  fellow  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Lenville,  poking  the  struggling  fire  with  his  walking-stick,  and, 
afterwards  wiping  it  on  the  skirt  of  his  coat.  "  Anything  in 
the  gruff  and  grumble  way  ?  " 

"  You  turn  your  wife  and  child  out  of  doors,"  said  Nicholas  ; 
"  and  in  a  fit  of  rage  and  jealousy,  stab  your  eldest  son  in  the 
library." 

"  Do  I  though  }  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Lenville.  "  That's  ver)^ 
good  business." 

"  xA.fter  which,"  said  Nicholas,  "You  are  troubled  with  re- 
morse till  the  last  act,  and  then  you  make  up  your  mind  to 
destroy  yourself.  But  just  as  you  are  raising  the  pistol  to  your 
head,  a  clock  strikes — ten." 

"I  see,"  cried  Mr.  Lenville.     "  Very  good." 

"You  pause,"  said  Nicholas;  "You  recollect  to  have 
heard  a  clock  strike  ten  in  your  infancy.  The  pistol  falls 
from  your  hand — you  are  overcome — you  burst  into  tears,  and 
become  a  virtuous  and  exemplary  character  for  ever  after- 
wards." 

"  Capital  !  "  said  Mr.  Lenville  :  "that's  a  sure  card,  a  sure 
card.  Get  the  curtain  down  with  a  touch  of  nature  like  that, 
and  it'll  be  a  triumphant  success." 

"  Is  there  anything  good  for  me  .^  "  inquired  Mr.  Folair, 
anxiously. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Nicholas.  "  You  play  the  faithful  and 
attached  servant ;  you  are  turned  out  of  doors  with  the  wife 
and  child." 

"  Always  coupled  with  that  infernal  phenomenon,"  sighed 


3  o  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

Mr.  Folair  ;  "  and  we  go  into  poor  lodgings,  where   I  won't 
take  any  wages,  and  talk  sentiment,  I  suppose  ? " 

"Why — yes,"  replied  Nicholas  :  "  that  is  the  course  of  the 
piece." 

"  I  must  have  a  dance  of  some  kind,  you  know,"  said  Mr. 
Folair.  "  You'll  have  to  introduce  one  for  the  phenomenon, 
so  you'd  better  make  a  pas  de  deux,  and  save  time." 

"  There's  nothing  easier  than  that,"  said  Mr.  Lenville,  ob- 
serving the  disturbed  looks  of  the  young  dramatist. 

"  Upon  my  word  I  don't  see  how  it's  to  be  done,"  rejoined 
Nicholas. 

"  Why,  isn't  it  obvious  ?  "  reasoned  Mr.  Lenville.  "  Gad 
zooks,  who  can  help  seeing  the  way  to  do  it  ? — you  astonish 
me  !  You  get  the  distressed  lady,  and  the  little  child,  and 
the  attached  servant,  into  the  poor  lodgings,  don't  you  ? 
— Well,  look  here.  The  distressed  lady  sinks  into  a 
chair,  and  buries  her  face  in  her  pocket  handkerchief — 
'  What  makes  you  weep,  mama  ?  '  says  the  child.  '  Don't 
weep,  mama,  or  you'll  make  me  weep  too  !  ' — '  And  me  ! '  says 
the  faithful  ser\-ant,  rubbing  his  eyes  with  his  arm.  '  What 
can  we  do  to  raise  your  spirits,  clear  mama .-'  '  says  the  little 
child.  '  Ay,  what  ca7i  we  do  ? '  says  the  faithful  servant.  '  Oh, 
Pierre! '  says  the  distressed  lady  ;  'would  that  I  could  shake 
off  these  painful  thoughts.' — '  Try,  ma'am,  try,'  says  the  faith- 
ful servant  ;  '  rouse  yourself,  ma'am  ;  be  amused.' — '  I  will,' 
says  tlie  lady,  '  I  will  learn  to  suffer  with  fortitude.  Do  you 
remember  that  dance,  my  honest  friend,  which,  in  happier 
days,  you  practised  with  this  sweet  angel  ?  It  never  failed  to 
calm  my  spirits  then.  Oh  !  let  me  see  it  once  again  before 
I  die  !  '—there  it  is — cue  for  the  band  before  I  die, — and  off 
they  go.     That's  the  regular  thing  ;  isn't  it.  Tommy  ?  " 

"That's  it,"  replied  Mr.  Folair.  "The  distressed  lady, 
overpowered  by  old  recollections,  faints  at  the  end  of  the 
dance,  and  you  close  in  with  a  picture." 

Profiting  by  these  and  other  lessons,  which  were  the  result 
of  the  personal  experience  of  the  two  actors,  Nicholas  wil- 
lingly gave  them  the  best  breakfast  he  could,  and,  when  heat 
length  got  rid  of  them,  applied  himself  to  his  task  :  by  no 
means  displeased  to  find  that  it  was  so  much  easier  than  he 
had  at  first  supposed.  He  worked  very  hard  all  day,  and  did 
not  leave  his  room  until  the  evening,  when  he  went  down  to 
the  theatre,  whither  Smike  had  repaired  before  him  to  go  on 
with  another  gentleman  as  a  general  rebellion. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  3 03 

Here  all  the  people  were  so  much  changed,  that  he  scarcely 
knew  them.  False  hair,  false  color,  false  calves,  false  muscles 
— they  had  become  different  beings.  Mr.  Lenville  was  a  bloom- 
ing warrior  of  most  exquisite  proportions  ;  Mr.  Crummies,  his 
large  face  shaded  by  a  profusion  of  black  hair,  a  Highland  out- 
law of  most  majestic  bearing  ;  one  of  the  old  gentleman  a  gaoler, 
and  the  other  a  venerable  patriarch  ;  the  comic  countrj^man, 
a  fighting-man  of  great  valor,  relieved  by  a  touch  of  humor  ; 
each  of  the  master  Crummleses  a  prince  in  his  own  right  ;  and 
the  low-spirited  lover,  a  desponding  captive.  There  was  a 
gorgeous  banquet  ready  spread  for  the  third  act,  consisting  of 
two  pasteboard  vases,  one  plate  of  biscuits,  a  black  bottle,  and 
a  vinegar  cruet  ;  and,  in  short,  everything  was  on  a  scale  of 
the  utmost  splendor  and  preparation. 

Nicholas  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  curtain, 
now  contemplating  the  first  scene,  which  was  a  Gothic  arch- 
way, about  two  feet  shorter  than  Mr.  Crummies,  through  which 
that  gentleman  was  to  make  the  first  entrance,  and  now  listen- 
ing to  a  couple  of  people  who  were  cracking  nuts  in  the  gal- 
ler}',  wondering  whether  they  made  the  whole  audience, 
when  the  manager  himself  walked  familiarly  up  and  accosted 
him. 

"  Been  in  front  to-night  ?  "  said  Mr.  Crummies. 

"No,"  replied  Nicholas,  "not  yet.  I  am  going  to  see  the 
play." 

"  We've   had    a   pretty  good    Let,"  said   Mr.   Crummies. 
.  "  Four  front  places  in  the  centre,  and  the  whole  of  the  stage- 
box." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  said  Nicholas  ;  "  a  family,  I  suppose  .'  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies,  "yes.  It's  an  affecting 
thing.  There  are  six  children,  and  they  never  come  unless  the 
phenomenon  plays." 

It  would  have  been  difficult  for  any  party,  family  or  other- 
wise, to  have  visited  the  theatre  on  a  night  when  the  phenom- 
enon did  no/  play,  inasmuch  as  she  always  sustained  one,  and 
not  uncommonly  two  or  three,  characters,  every  night ;  but 
Nicholas,  sympathizing  with  the  feelings  of  a  father,  refrained 
from  hinting  at  this  trifling  circumstance,  and  Mr.  Crummies 
continued  to  talk,  uninterrupted  by  him. 

"Six,"  said  that  gentleman  ;  "  Pa  and  Ma  eight,  aunt  nine, 
governess  ten,  grandfather  and  grandmother  twelve.  Then, 
there's  the  footman,  who  stands  outside,  with  a  bag  of  oranges 
and  a  jug  of  toast-and-water  and  sees  the  play  for  nothing 


204  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

through  the  little  pane  of  glass  in  the  box-door — it's  cheap  at 
a  guinea  ;  they  gain  by  taking  a  box." 

"I  wonder  you  allow  so  many,"  observed  Nicholas. 

"  There's  no  help  for  it,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies  ;  "  it's 
always  expected  in  the  country.  If  there  are  six  children, 
six  people  come  to  hold  them  in  their  laps.  A  family-box 
carries  double  always.     Ring  in  the  orchestra,  Grudden  !  " 

That  useful  lady  did  as  she  was  requested,  and  shortly 
afterwards  the  tuning  of  three  fiddles  was  heard.  Which  pro- 
cess having  been  protracted  as  long  as  it  was  supposed 
that  the  patience  of  the  audience  could  possibly  bear  it, 
was  put  a  stop  to  by  another  jerk  of  the  bell,  which,  being 
the  signal  to  being  in  earnest,  set  the  orchestra  playing  a 
variety  of  popular  airs,  with  involuntary  variations. 

If  Nicholas  had  been  astonished  at  the   alteration  for  the 
better  which  the  gentlemen  displayed,  the  transformation  of 
the  ladies  was  still  more  extraordinary'.     When,  from  a  snug 
corner  of  the  manager's  box,  he  beheld  Miss  Snevellicci  in  all 
the    glories    of  white  muslin  with    a   golden  hem,   and  Mrs. 
Crummies  in  all  the  dignity  of  the  outlaw's   wife,  and   Miss 
Bravassa  in  all  the  sweetness  of  Miss  Snevellicci's   confiden- 
tial   friend,    and    Miss    Belvawney   in  the    white    silks    of    a 
page  doing  duty  everywhere  and  swearing  to  live  and  die  in 
the    service    of  everybody,    he     could     scarcely    contain    his 
admiration,  which  testified  itself  in  great    applause,  and  the 
closest  possible  attention  to  the  business  of  the   scene.     The 
plot  was  most  interesting.     It  belonged  to  no  particular  age, 
people,  or  country,  and  was  perhaps  the  more  delightful  on  that 
account,  as  nobody's  previous  information  could  aftord  the  re- 
motest glimmering  of  what  would  ever  come  of  it.     An  outlaw 
had  been  very  successful  in  doing  something  somewhere,  and 
came  home,  in  triumph,  to  the  sounds  of  shouts  and  fiddles, 
to  greet  his  wife — a  lady  of   masculine  mind,  who   talked   a 
good  deal  about  her  father's  bones,  which  it  seemed  were  un- 
buried,  though  whether  from  a  peculiar  taste  on  the  part  of 
the  old  gentleman  himself,  or  the  reprehensible  neglect  of  his 
relations,  did  not  appear.     This   outlaw's  wife   was,  somehow 
or  other,  mixed  up  with  a  patriarch  living  in  a  castle  a  long 
way  off,  and  this  patriarch  was  the  father  of  several  of  the 
characters,  but  he  didn't  exactly  know  which,  and  was  uncer- 
tain whether  he  Iiad  brought  up  the  right  ones  in  his  castle,  or 
the  wrong  ones  ;  he  rather  incUned  to  the  latter  opinion,  and, 
being  uneasy,  relieved  his  mind  with  a  banqiiet,  during  which 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


305 


solemnity  somebody  in  a  cloak  said  "  Beware  !  "  which  some- 
body was  known  by  nobody  (except  the  audience)  to  be  the 
outlaw  himself,  who  had  come  there,  for  reasons  unexplained, 
but  possibly  with  an  eye  to  the  spoons.  There  was  an  agree- 
able little  surprise  in  the  way  of  certain  love  passages  between 
the  desponding  captive  and  Miss  Snevellicci,  and  the  ccmic 
fighting-man  and  Miss  JJravassa  ;  besides  which,  Mr.  Lenville 
had  several  very  tragic  scenes  in  the  dark,  while  on  throat- 
cutting  expeditions,  which  were  all  baffled  by  the  skill  and 
bravery  of  the  comic  fighting-man  (who  overheard  whatever 
was  said  all  through  the  piece)  and  the  intrepidity  of  Miss 
Snevellicci,  who  adopted  tights,  and  therein  repaired  to  the 
prison  of  her  captive  lover,  with  a  small  basket  of  refresh- 
ments and  a  dark  lantern.  At  last,  it  came  out  that  the  patri- 
arch was  the  man  who  had  treated  the  bones  of  the  outlaw's 
father-in-law  with  so  much  disrespect,  for  which  cause  and 
reason  the  outlaw's  wife  repaired  to  his  castle  to  kill  him,  and 
so  got  into  a  dark  room,  where,  after  a  good  deal  of  groping 
in  the  dark,  everybody  got  hold  of  everybody  else,  and  took 
them  for  somebody  besides  which  occasioned  a  vast  quantity 
of  confusion,  with  some  pistoling,  loss  of  life,  and  torchlight ; 
after  which,  the  patriarch  came  forward,  and  observing,  with 
a  knowing  look,  that  he  knew  all  about  his  children  now,  and 
would  tell  them  when  they  got  inside,  said  that  there  could 
not  be  a  more  appropriate  occasion  for  marrying  the  young 
people  than  that-;  and  therefore  he  joined  their  hands,  with 
the  full  consent  of  the  indefatigable  page,  who  (being  the  only 
other  person  surviving)  pointed  with  his  cap  into  the  clouds, 
and  his  right  hand  to  the  ground  ;  thereby  invoking  a  blessing 
and  giving  the  cue  for  the  curtain  to  come  down,  which  it  did, 
amidst  general  applause. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  that  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Crummies,  when 
Nicholas  went  round  to  the  stage  again.  Mr.  Crummies  was 
ve'ry  red  and  hot,  for  your  outlaws  are  desperate  fellows  to 
shout. 

"  I  think  it  was  very  capital  indeed,"  replied  Nicholas  ; 
"Miss  Snevellicci  in  particular  was  uncommonly  good." 

''  She's  a  genius,"  said  Mr.  Crummies  ;  "  quite  a  genius, 
that  girl.  By  the  bye,  I've  been  thinking  of  bringing  out  that 
piece  of  yours  on  her  bespeak  night." 

"  When  .?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  The  night  of  her  bespeak.  Her  benefit  night,  when  her 
friends  and  patrons  bespeak  the  play,"  said  Mr.  Crummies. 

20 


3o6 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  Oh  !  I  understand,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  "  it's  sure  to  go,  on  such 
an  occasion,  and  even  if  it  should  not  work  up  quite  as  well 
as  we  expect,  why  it  will  be  her  risk,  you  know,  and  not  ours." 

"  Yours,  you  mean,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  I  said  mine,  didn't  I  ?  "  returned  Mr.  Crummies.  "  Next 
Monday  week.  What  do  you  say  1  You'll  have  done  it,  and 
are  sure  to  be  up  in  the  lover's  part,  long  before  that  time." 

"I  don't  know  about  'long  before,'"  replied  Nicholas; 
"  but  by  that  time  I  think  I  can  undertake  to  be  ready." 

"  Very  good,"  pursued  Mr.  Crummies,  "  then  we'll  call 
that  settled.  Now  I  want  to  ask  you  something  else.  There's 
a  little — what  shall  I  call  it — a  little  canvassing  takes  place 
on  these  occasions." 

"  Among  the  patrons,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"Among  the  patrons  ;  and  the  fact  is,  that  Snevellicci  has 
had  so  many  bespeaks  in  this  place,  that  she  wants  an  attrac- 
tion. She  had  a  bespeak  when  her  mother-in-law  died,  and  a 
bespeak  when  her  uncle  died  ;  and  Mrs.  Crummies  and  my- 
self have  had  bespeaks  on  the  anniversary  of  the  phenom- 
enon's birthday,  and  our  wedding-day,  and  occasions  of  that 
description,  so  that,  in  fact,  there's  some  difficulty  in  getting  a 
good  one.  Now,  won't  you  help  this  poor  girl,  Mr.  Johnson.'"' 
said  Crummies,  sitting  himself  down  on  a  drum,  and  taking 
a  great  pinch  of  snuff,  as  he  looked  him  steadily  in  the  face. 

"  How  do  you  mean  .'"'  rejoined  Nicholas. 

"  Don't  you  think  you  could  spare  half-an-hour  to-morrow 
morning,  to  call  with  her  at  the  houses  of  one  or  two  of  the 
principal  people  .''  "  murmured  the  manager  in  a  persuasive 
tone. 

"  Oh  dear  me,"  said  Nicholas,  with  an  air  of  very  strong 
objection,  "  I  shouldn't  like  to  do  that." 

"  The  infant  will  accompany  her,"  said  Mr.  Crummies. 
"  The  moment  it  was  suggested  to  me,  I  gave  permission  for 
the  infant  to  go.  There  will  not  be  the  smallest  impropriety 
— Miss  Snevellicci,  sir,  is  the  ver}^  soul  of  honor.  It  would 
be  of  material  service — the  gentleman  from  London — author 
of  the  new  piece — actor  in  the  new  piece — first  appearance  on 
any  boards — it  would  lead  to  a  great  bespeak,  Mr.  Johnson." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  throw  a  damp  upon  the  prospects  of 
anybody,  and  more  especially  a  lady,"  replied  Nicholas,* 
"  but  really  1  must  decidedly  object  to  making  one  of  the 
canvassing  party." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLF.BY.  307 

"  What  does  Mr,  Johnson  say,  Vincent  ? "  inquired  a  voice 
close  to  his  ear;  and,  loolcing round,  he  found  Mrs.  Crummies 
and  Miss  Snevellicci  herself  standing  behind  him. 

"  He  has  some  objection,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies, 
looking  at  Nicholas. 

"  Objection  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Crummies.  "  Can  it  be 
possible  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not  !  "  cried  Miss  Snevellicci.  "  You  surely 
are  not  so  cruel — oh,  dear  me  ! — Well,  I — to  think  of  that 
now,  after  all  one's  looking  forward  to  it !  " 

"  Mr.  Johnson  will  not  persist,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Crummies.  "  Think  better  of  him  than  to  suppose  it.  Gal- 
lantry, humanity,  all  the  best  feelings  of  his  nature  must  be 
enlisted  in  this  interesting  cause." 

"Which  moves  even  a  manager,"  said  Mr.  Crummies, 
smiling. 

"  And  a  manager's  wife,"  added  Mrs.  Crummies,  in  her 
accustomed  tragedy  tones.  "  Come,  come,  you  will  relent, 
1  know  you  will." 

"  It  is  not  in  my  nature,"  said  Nicholas,  moved  by  these 
appeals,  "  to  resist  any  entreaty,  unless  it  is  to  do  something 
positively  wrong  ;  and,  beyond  a  feeling  of  pride,  I  know  noth- 
ing which  should  prevent  my  doing  this.  I  know  nobody 
here,  and  nobody  knows  me.     So  be  it  then.     I  yield." 

Miss  Snevellicci  was  at  once  overwhelmed  with  blushes 
and  expressions  of  gratitude,  of  which  latter  commodity 
neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Crummies  was  by  any  means  sparing. 
It  was  arranged  that  Nicholas  should  call  upon  her,  at  her 
lodgings,  at  eleven  next  morning,  and  soon  after  they  parted  : 
he  to  return  home  to  his  authorship:  Miss  Snevellicci  to 
dress  for  the  after-piece  :  and  the  disinterested  manager  and 
his  wife  to  discuss  the  probable  gains  of  the  forthcoming 
bespeak,  of  which  they  were  to  have  two-thirds  of  the  profits 
by  solemn  treaty  of  agreement. 

At  the  stipulated  hour  next  morning,  Nicholas  repaired  to 
the  lodgings  of  Miss  Snevellicci,  which  were  in  a  place  called 
Lombard  Street,  at  the  house  of  a  tailor.  A  strong  smell  of 
ironing  pervaded  the  little  passage  ;  and  the  tailor's  daughter, 
who  opened  the  door,  appeared  in  that  flutter  of  spirits  which 
is  so  often  attendant  upon  the  periodical  getting  up  of  a 
family's  linen. 

"  Miss  Snevellicci  lives  here,  I  believe  ?  "  said  Nicholas, 
when  the  door  was  opened. 


3o8 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


The  tailor's  daughter  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  let  her  know  that  Mr. 
Johnson  is  here  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Oh,  if  you  please  you're  to  come  up  stairs,"  replied  the 
tailor's  daughter,  with  a  smile. 

Nicholas  followed  the  young  lady,  and  was  shown  into  a 
small  apartment  on  the  first  floor,  communicating  with  a  back 
room  ;  in  which,  as  he  judged  from  a  certain  half-subdued 
clinking  sound,  as  of  cups  and  saucers,  Miss  Snevellicci  was 
then  taking  her  breakfast  in  bed. 

"You're  to  wait,  if  you  please,"  said  the  tailor's  daughter, 
after  a  short  period  of  absence,  during  which  the  clinking  in 
the  back  room  had  ceased,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  whisper- 
ing.    "  She  won't  be  long." 

As  she  spoke  she  pulled  up  the  window-Liind,  and  having 
by  this  means  (as  she  thought)  diverted  Mr.  Johnson's  atten- 
tion from  the  room  to  the  street,  caught  up  some  articles  which 
were  airing  on  the  fender,  and  had  very  much  the  appearance 
of  stockings,  and  darted  off. 

As  there  were  not  many  objects  of  interest  outside  the 
window,  Nicholas  looked  about  the  room  with  more  curiosity 
than  he  might  otherwise  have  bectowed  upon  it.  On  the  sofa 
lay  an  old  guitar,  several  thumbed  pieces  of  music,  and  a 
scattered  litter  of  curl-papers :  together  with  a  confused  heap 
of  play-bills,  and  a  pair  of  soiled  white  satin  shoes  with  large 
blue  rosettes.  Hanging  over  the  back  of  a  chair  was  a  half- 
finished  muslin  apron  v.'ith  little  pockets  ornamented  with  red 
ribbons,  such  as  waiting-women  wear  on  the  stage,  and  (by 
consequence)  are  never  seen  with  anywhere  else.  In  one 
corner  stood  the  diminutive  pair  of  top-boots  in  which  Miss 
Snevellicci  was  accustomed  to  enact  the  little  jockey,  and, 
folded  on  a  chair  hard  by,  was  a  small  parcel,  which  bore  a 
very  suspicious  resemblance  to  the  companion  smalls. 

But  the  most  interesting  object  of  all,  was,  perhaps,  the 
open  scrap-book,  displayed  in  the  midst  of  some  theatrical 
duodecimos  that  were  strewn  upon  the  table  ;  and  pasted  into 
which  scrap-book  were  various  critical  notices  of  Miss  Snevel- 
licci's  acting,  extracted  from  different  provincial  journals,  to- 
gether with  one  poetic  address  in  her  honor  commencing — 

Sinj;,  God  of  Lovo,  and  tell  me  in  wh.it  dearth 
Thrice-f;ifted  Snevellicci  came  on  earth, 
To  thrill  us  with  her  smile,  her  tear,  her  eye, 
Sing,  God  of  Love,  and  tell  me  quickly  why. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  309 

Besides  this  effusion,  there  were  innumerable  complimentary 
allusions,  also  extracted  from  newspapers,  such  as — "  We  ob- 
serve from  an  advertisement  in  another  part  of  our  paper  of 
to-day,  that  the  charming  and  highly-talented  Miss  Snevel- 
licci  takes  her  benefit  on  Wednesday,  for  which  occasion  she 
has  put  forth  a  bill  of  fare  that  might  kindle  exhilaration  in 
the  breast  of  a  misanthrope.  In  the  confidence  that  our  fel- 
low-townsmen have  not  lost  that  high  appreciation  of  public 
utility  and  private  worth,  for  which  they  have  long  been  so 
pre-eminently  distinguished,  we  predict  that  this  charming 
actress  will  be  greeted  with  a  bumper."  "  To  Correspond- 
ents.— J.  S.  is  misinformed  when  he  supposes  that 'the  highly- 
gifted  and  beautiful  Miss  Snevellicci,  nightly  captivating  all 
hearts  at  our  pretty  and  commodious  little  theatre,  is  not  the 
same  lady  to  whom  the  young  gentleman  of  immense  fortune, 
residing  within  a  hundred  miles  of  the  good  city  of  York, 
lately  made  honorable  proposals.  We  have  reason  to  know 
that  Miss  Snevellicci  is  the  lady  who  was  implicated  in  that 
mysterious  and  romantic  affair,  and  whose  conduct  on  that 
occasion  did  no  less  honor  to  her  head  and  heart,  than  do  her 
histrionic  triumphs  to  her  brilliant  genius."  A  copious  assort- 
ment of  such  paragraphs  as  these,  with  long  bills  of  benefits 
all  ending  with  "Come  Early,"  in  large  capitals,  formed  the 
principal  contents  of  Miss  Snevellicci's  scrap-book. 

Nicholas  had  read  a  great  many  of  these  scraps,  and  was 
absorbed  in  a  circumstantial  and  melancholy  account  of  the 
train  of  events  which  had  led  to  Miss  Snevellicci's  spraining 
her  ankle  by  slipping  on  a  piece  of  orange-peel  flung  by  a 
monster  in  human  form,  (so  the  paper  said,)  upon  the  stage  at 
Winchester, — when  that  young  lady  herself,  attired  in  the 
coal-scuttle  bonnet  and  walking-dress  complete,  tripped  nito 
the  room,  with  a  thousand  apologies  for  having  detained  him 
so  long  after  the  appointed  time. 

"  But  really,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci,  "  my  darling  Led,  who 
lives  with  me  here,  was  taken  so  very  ill  in  the  night  that  I 
thought  she  would  have  expired  in  my  arms." 

"  Such  a  fate  is  almost  to  be  envied,"  returned  Nicholas, 
"but  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it  nevertheless." 

"  What  a  creature  you  are  to  flatter  !  "  said  Miss  Snevel- 
licci, buttoning  her  glove  in  much  confusion. 

"  If  it  be  flattery  to  admire  your  charms  and  accomplish- 
ments," rejoined  Nicholas,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  scrap- 
book,  "you  have  better  specimens  of  it  here." 


3IO 


NICHOLAS  AICKLEB Y. 


"  Oh  you  cruel  creature,  to  read  such  things  as  those  ! 
I'm  ahnost  ashamed  to  look  you  in  the  face  afterwards,  posi- 
tively I  am,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci,  seizing  the  book  and  putting 
it  away  in  a  closet.  "  How  careless  of  Led  !  How  could  she 
be  so  naughty  !  " 

"  I  thought  3'ou  had  kindly  left  it  here,  on  purpose  for  me 
to  read,"  said  Nicholas.     And  really  it  did  seem  possible. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  had  you  see  it  for  the  world  !  "  rejoined 
Miss  Snevellicci.  "  I  never  was  so  vexed — never !  But  she 
is  such  a  careless  thing,  there's  no  trusting  her." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
the  phenomenon,  who  had  discreetly  remained  in  the  bedroom 
up  to  this  moment,  and  now  presented  herself,  with  much 
grace  and  lightness,  bearing  in  her  hand  a  very  little  green 
parasol  with  a  broad  fringe  border,  and  no  handle.  After  a 
few  words  of  course,  they  sallied  into  the  street. 

The  phenomenon  was  rather  a  troublesome  companion,  for 
first  the  right  sandal  came  down,  and  then  the  left,  and  these 
mischances  being  repaired,  one  leg  of  the  little  white  trousers 
was  discovered  to  be  longer  than  the  other  ;  besides  these  ac- 
cidents, the  green  parasol  was  dropped  down  an  iron  grating, 
and  only  fished  up  again,  with  great  difficulty  and  by  dint 
of  much  exertion.  Plowever,  it  was  impossible  to  scold  her, 
as  she  was  the  manager's  daughter,  so  Nicholas  took  it  all  in 
perfect  good  humor,  and  walked  on,  with  Miss  Snevellicci, 
arm  in  arm  on  one  side,  and  the  offending  infant  on  the  other. 

The  first  house  to  which  they  bent  their  steps,  was  situated 
in  a  terrace  of  respectable  appearance.  Miss  Snevellicci's 
modest  double-knock  was  answered  by  a  foot-boy,  who,  in  re- 
ply to  her  inquiry  whether  Mrs.  Curdle  was  at  home,  opened 
his  eyes  very  wide,  grinned  very  much,  and  said  he  didn't 
know,  but  he'd  inquire.  With  this,  he  showed  them  into  a 
parlor  where  he  kept  them  waiting,  until  the  two  women-ser- 
vants had  repaired  thither,  under  false  pretences,  to  see  the 
pla3^-actors  ;  and  having  compared  notes  with  them  in  the  pas- 
sage, and  joined  in  a  vast  quantity  of  whispering  and  gig- 
gling, he  at  length  went  up  stairs  with  Miss  Snevellicci'-s 
name. 

Now,  Mrs.  Curdle  was  supposed,  by  those  who  were  best 
informed  on  such  points,  to  possess  quite  the  London  taste  in 
matters  relating  to  literature  and  the  drama  ;  and  as  to  Mr. 
Curdle,  he  hacl  written  a  pamphlet  of  sixty-four  pages,  post 
octavo,  on  the  character  of  the  Nurse's  deceased  husband  in 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  311 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  with  an  inquiry  whetlier  he  really  had  been 
a  "merry  man"  in  his  life-time,  or  whether  it  was  merely  his 
widow's  affectionate  partiality  that  induced  her  so  to  report 
him.  He  had  likewise  pro\ed,  that  by  altering  the  received 
mode  of  punctuation,  any  one  of  Shakspeare's  plays  could  be 
made  quite  different,  and  the  sense  completely  changed  ;  it  is 
needless  to  say,  therefore,  that  he  was  a  great  critic,  and  a 
very  profound  and  most  original  thinker. 

"  Well,  Miss  Snevellicci,"  said  Mrs.  Curdle,  entering  the 
parlor,  "  and  how  do  jou  do  ?  " 

Miss  Snevellicci  made  a  graceful  obeisance,  and  hoped 
Mrs.  Curdle  was  well,  as  also  Mr.  Curdle,  who  at  the  same 
time  appeared.  Mrs.  Curdle  was  dressed  in  a  morning  wrap- 
per, with  a  little  cap  stuck  upon  the  top  of  her  head.  Mr. 
Curdle  wore  a  loose  robe  on  his  back,  and  his  right  forefinger 
on  his  forehead  after  the  portraits  of  Sterne,  to  whom  some- 
body or  other  had  once  said  he  bore  a  striking  resemblance. 

"  I  ventured  to  call,  for  the  purpose  of  asking  whether  you 
would  put  your  name  to  my  bespeak,  ma'am,"  said  Miss 
Snevellicci,  producing  documents. 

"Oh!  I  really  don't  know  what  to  say,"  replied  Mrs. 
Curdle.  "  It's  not  as  if  the  theatre  was  in  its  high  and  palmy 
days — you  needn't  stand.  Miss  Snevellicci — the  drama  is 
gone,  perfectly  gone." 

"  As  an  exquisite  embodiment  of  the  poet's  visions,  and  a 
realization  of  human  intellectuality,  gilding  with  refulgent 
light  our  dreamy  moments,  and  laying  open  a  new  and  magic 
world  before  the  mental  eye,  the  drama  is  gone,  perfectly 
gone,"  said  Mr.  Curdle. 

"What  man  is  there,  now  living,  who  can  present  before 
us  all  those  changing  and  prismatic  colors  with  which  the 
character  of  Hamtet  is  invested  .? "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Curdle. 

"What  man  indeed — upon  the  stage,"  said  Mr.  Curdle, 
with  a  small  reservation  in  favor  of  himself.  "  Hamlet ! 
Pooh  !  ridiculous  !     Hamlet  is  gone,  perfectly  gone." 

Quite  overcome  by  these  dismal  refiections,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Curdle  sighed,  and  sat  for  some  short  time  without  speaking. 
At  lengtli,  the  lady,  turning  to  Miss  Snevellicci,  inquired  what 
play  she  proposed  to  ha\-e. 

"  Quite  a  new  one,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci,  "  of  which  this 
gentleman  is  the  author,  and  in  which  he  plays  ;  being  his 
first  appearance  on  any  stage.  Mr.  Johnson  is  the  gentle- 
man's name." 


312^  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  I  hope  you  have  preserved  the   unities,  sir  ? "  said  Mr. 

Curdle. 

"  The  original  piece  is  a  French  one,"  said  Nicholas. 
"  There  is  abundance  of  incident,  sprightly  dialogue,  strongly- 
marked  characters " 

"  — AH  unavailing  without  a  strict  obsen-ance  of  the  unities, 
sir,"  returned  Mr.  Curdle.  "  The  unities  of  the  drama,  be- 
fore everything." 

"  Might  I  ask  you,"  said  Nicholas,  hestitating  between  the 
respect  he  ought  to  assume,  and  his  love  of  the  whimsical, 
"might  I  ask  you  what  the  unities  are  t  " 

Mr.  Curdle  coughed  and  considered.  "  The  unities,  sir," 
he  said,  "  are  a  completeness — a  kind  of  a  universal  dovetail- 
edness  with  regard  to  place  and  time — a  sort  of  a  general 
oneness,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  use  so  strong  an  expression. 
I  take  those  to  be  the  dramatic  unities,  so  far  as  I  have  been 
enabled  to  bestow  attention  upon  them,  and  I  have  read  much 
upon  the  subject,  and  thought  much.  I  find,  running  through 
the  performances  of  this  child,"  said  Mr.  Curdle,  turning  to 
the  phenomenon,  "  a  unity  of  feeling,  a  breadth,  a  light  and 
shade,  a  warmth  of  coloring,  a  tone,  a  harmony,  a  glow,  an 
artistical  development  of  original  conceptions,  which  I  look 
for,  in  vain,  among  older  performers.  I  don't  know  whether 
I  make  myself  understood  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Just  so,"  said  Mr.  Curdle,  pulling  up  his  neckcloth. 
"  That  is  my  definition  of  the  unities  of  the  drama." 

Mrs.  Curdle  had  sat  listening  to  this  lucid  explanation 
with  great  complacency.  It  being  finished,  she  inquired  what 
Mr,  Curdle  thought,  about  putting  down  their  names. 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear ;  upon  my  word  I  don't  know," 
said  Mr.  Curdle.  "  If  we  do,  it  must  be  distinctly  understood 
that  we  do  not  pledge  ourselves  to  the  quality  of  the  perform- 
ances. Let  it  go  forth  to  the  world,  that  we  do  not  give 
thetn  the  sanction  of  our  names,  but  that  we  confer  the  dis- 
tinction merely  upon  Miss  Snevellicci.  That  being  clearly 
stated,  I  take  it  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  duty,  that  we  should  ex- 
tend our  patronage  to  a  degraded  stage,  even  for  the  sake  of 
the  associations  with  which  it  is  entwined.  Have  you  got  two- 
and-sixpence  for  half-a-crown,  Miss  Snevellicci  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Curdle,  turning  over  four  of  those  pieces  of  money. 

Miss  Snevellicci  felt  in  all  the  corners  of  the  pink  reticule, 
but  there  was  nothing  in  any  of  them.     Nicholas  murmured  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  313 

jest  about  his  being  an  author,  and  thought  it  best  not  to  go 
through  the  form  of  feehng  in  his  own  pockets  at  all 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Mr,  Curdle  :  "  twice  four's  eight — four 
shillings  a-piece  to  the  boxes,  Miss  Snevellicci,  is  exceedingly 
dear  in  the  present  state  of  the  drama — three  half-crowns  is 
seven-and-six  ;  we  shall  not  differ  about  sixpence,  I  suppose  ? 
Sixpence  will  not  part  us,  Miss  Snevellicci  ?  " 

Poor  Miss  Snevellicci  took  the  three  half-crowns,  with 
many  smiles  and  bends,  and  Mrs.  Curdle,  adding  several  sup- 
plementary directions  relative  to  keeping  the  places  for 
them,  and  dusting  the  seat,  and  sending  two  clean  bills  as 
soon  as  they  came  out,  rang  the  bell,  as  a  signal  for  breaking 
up  the  conference. 

"Odd  people  those,"  said  Nicholas,  when  they  got  clear 
of  the  house. 

"  I  assure  you,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci,  taking  his  arm, 
"  that  I  think  myself  very  lucky  they  did  not  owe  all  the 
money  instead  of  being  sixpence  short.  Now,  if  you  were  to 
succeed,  they  would  give  people  to  understand  that  they  had 
always  patronized  you  ;  and  if  you  were  to  fail,  they  would 
have  been  quite  certain  of  that  from  the  ver}'  beginning." 

At  the  next  house  they  visited  they  were  in  great  glory  ; 
for,  there,  resided  the  six  children  who  were  so  enraptured 
with  the  public  actions  of  the  phenomenon,  and  who,  being 
called  down  from  the  nursery  to  be  treated  with  a  pri\ate 
view  of  that  young  lady,  proceeded  to  poke  their  fingers  into 
her  eyes,  and  tread  upon  her  toes,  and  show  her  many  other 
little  attentions  peculiar  to  their  time  of  life. 

"  I  shall  certainly  persuade  Mr.  Eorum  to  take  a  private 
box,"  said  the  lady  of  the  house,  after  a  most  gracious  recep- 
tion. "  I  shall  only  take  two  of  the  children,  and  will  make 
up  the  rest  of  the  party  of  gentlemen — your  admirers.  Miss 
Snevellicci.  Augustus,  you  naughty  boy,  leave  the  little  girl 
alone." 

This  was  addressed  to  a  young  gentleman  who  was  pinch- 
ing the  phenomenon  behind,  apparently  with  a  view  of  ascer- 
taining whether  she  was  real. 

"  I  am  sure  you  must  be  very  tired,"  said  the  mama,  turn- 
ing to  Miss  Snevellicci.  "  I  cannot  think  of  allowing  you  to 
go,  without  first  taking  a  glass  of  wine.  Fie,  Charlotte,  I  am 
ashamed  of  you  !  Miss  Lane,  my  dear,  pray  see  to  the  chil- 
dren." 

Miss  Lane  was  the  governess,  and  this  entreaty  was  ren- 


314  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

dered  necessary  by  the  abrupt  behavior  of  the  youngest  Miss 
Borum,  who,  having  filched  the  phenomenon's  little  green 
parasol,  was  now  carrying  it  bodily  off,  while  the  distrac'.e:! 
infant  looked  helplessly  on. 

"  I  am  sure,  where  you  ever  learnt  to  act  as  you  do,"  said 
good-natured  Mrs.  Borum,  turning  again  to  Miss  Snevellicci, 
"  1  cannot  understand  (Emma,  don't  stare  so)  ;  laughing  in 
one  piece,  and  crying  in  the  next,  and  so  natural  in  all — oh, 
dear  !  " 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  hear  you  express  so  favorable  an 
opinion,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci.  "  It's  quite  delightful  to  think 
you  like  it." 

"  Like  it !  "  cried  Mrs.  Borum.  "  Who  can  help  liking  it ! 
I  would  go  to  the  play  twice  a  week  if  I  could  :  I  dote  upon 
it.  Only  you're  too  affecting  sometimes.  You  do  put  me  in 
such  a  state  ;  into  such  fits  of  crying  !  Goodness  gracious  me. 
Miss  Lane,  how  can  you  let  them  torment  that  poor  child  so  !  " 

The  phenomenon  was  really  in  a  fair  way  of  being  torn 
limb  from  limb  ;  for  two  strong  little  boys,  one  holding  on  by 
each  of  her  hands,  were  dragging  her  in  different  directions  as 
a  trial  of  strength.  However,  Miss  Lane  (who  had  herself 
been  too  much  occupied  in  contemplating  the  grown-up  actors, 
to  pay  the  necessary  attention  to  these  proceedings)  rescued 
the  unhappy  infant  at  this  juncture,  who,  being  recruited  with 
a  glass  of  wine,  was  shortly  afterwards  taken  away  by  her 
friends,  after  sustaining  no  more  serious  damage  than  a  flat- 
tening of  the  pink  gauze  bonnet,  and  a  rather  extensive  creas- 
ing of  the  white  frock  and  trousers. 

It  was  a  trying  morning  ;  for  there  were  a  great  many  calls 
to  make,  and  everybody  wanted  a  different  thing.  Some 
wanted  tragedies,  and  others  comedies ;  some  objected  to 
dancing  ;  some  wanted  scarcely  anything  else.  Some  thought 
the  comic  singer  decidedly  low,  others  hoped  he  would  have 
more  to  do  than  he  usually  had.  Some  people  wouldn't  prom- 
ise to  go,  because  other  people  wouldn't  promise  to  go ;  and 
other  people  wouldn't  go  at  all,  because  other  people  went. 
At  length,  and  by  little  and  little,  omitting  something  in  this 
place,  and  adding  something  in  that.  Miss  Snevellicci  pledged 
herself  to  a  bill  of  fare  which  was  comprehensive  enough,  if  it 
had  no  other  merit  (it  included  among  other  trifles,  four  pieces, 
divers  songs,  a  few  combats,  and  several  dances)  ;  and  they 
returned  home,  pretty  well  exhausted  with  the  business  of  the 
day. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  3 1 5 

Nicholas  worked  away  at  the  piece,  which  was  speedily 
put  into  rehearsal,  and.  then  worked  away  at  his  own  part, 
which  he  studied  with  great  perseverance  and  acted — as  the 
whole  company  said — to  perfection.  And  at  length  the  great 
day  arrived.  The  crier  was  sent  round,  in  the  morning,  to 
proclaim  the  entertainments  with  sound  of  bell  in  all  the 
thoroughfares  ;  and  extra  bills  of  three  feet  long  by  nine  inches 
wide,  were  dispersed  in  all  directions,  flung  down  all  the 
areas,  thrust  under  all  the  knockers,  and  developed  in  all  the 
shops.  They  were  placarded  on  all  the  walls  too,  though 
not  with  complete  success,  for  an  illiterate  person  having  un- 
dertaken this  office  during  the  indisposition  of  the  regular  bill- 
sticker,  a  part  were  posted  sideways,  and  the  remainder  up- 
side down. 

At  half-past  five,  there  was  a  rush  of  four  people  to  the 
gallery-door  ;  at  a  quarter  before  six,  there  were  at  least  a  dozen; 
at  six  o'clock  the  kicks  were  terrific  ;  and  when  the  elder  Mas- 
ter Crummies  opened  the  door,  he  was  obliged  to  run  behind 
it  for  his  life.  Fifteen  shillings  were  taken  by  Mrs.  Grudden 
in  the  first  ten  minutes. 

Behind  the  scenes,  the  same  unwonted  excitement  prevailed. 
Miss  Snevellicci  was  in  such  a  perspiration  that  the  paint 
would  scarcely  stay  on  her  face.  Mrs.  Crummies  was  so  ner- 
vous that  she  could  hardly  remember  her  part.  Miss  Bra- 
vassa's  ringlets  came  out  of  curl  with  the  heat  and  anxiety  ; 
even  Mr.  Crummies  himself  kept  peeping  through  the  hole  in 
the  curtain,  and  running  back,  every  now  and  then,  to  announce 
that  another  man  had  come  into  the  pit. 

At  last,  the  orchestra  left  off,  and  the  curtain  rose  upon 
the  new  joiece.  The  first  scene,  in  which  there  was  nobody 
particular,  passed  off  calmly  enough,  but  when  Miss  Snevel- 
licci went  on  in  the  second,  accompanied  by  the  phenomenon 
as  child,  what  a  roar  of  applause  broke  out !  The  people  in 
the  Borum  box  rose  as  one  man,  waving  their  hats  and  hand- 
kerchiefs, and  uttering  shouts  of  "  Bravo  !  "  Mrs.  Borum  and 
the  governess  cast  wreaths  upon  the  stage,  of  which,  some 
fluttered  into  the  lamps,  and  one  crowned  the  temples  of  a  fat 
gentleman  in  the  pit,  who,  looking  eagerly  towards  the  scene, 
remained  unconscious  of  the  honor;  the  tailor  and  his  family 
kicked  at  the  panels  of  the  upper  boxes  till  they  threatened 
to  come  out  altogether  ;  the  xevy  ginger-beer  boy  remained 
transfixed  in  the  centre  of  the  house  ;  a  young  officer,  supposed 
to  entertain  a  passion  for  Miss  Snevellicci,  stuck  his  glass  in 


3i6 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


his  eye  as  though  to  hide  a  tear.  Again  and  again  Miss  Snev- 
ellicci,  curtseyed  lower  and  lower,  and  again  and  again  the 
applause  came  down,  louder  and  louder.  At  length,  when  the 
phenomenon  picked  up  one  of  the  smoking  wreaths  and  put 
it  on,  sideways,  over  Miss  Snevellicci's  eye,  it  reached  its  cli- 
max, and  the  play  proceeded. 

But  when  Nicholas  came  on  for  his  crack  scene  with  Mrs. 
Crummies,  what  a  clapping  of  hands  there  was  !  When  Mrs. 
Crummies  (who  was  his  unworthy  mother),  sneered  and  called 
him  "  presumptuous  boy,"  and  he  defied  her,  what  a  tumult 
of  applause  came  on  !  When  he  quarrelled  with  the  other 
gentleman  about  the  young  lady,  and  producing  a  case  of  pis- 
tols, said  that  if  he  was  a  gentleman,  he  would  fight  him  in 
that  drawing-room,  until  the  furniture  was  sprmkled  with  the 
blood  of  one,  if  not  of  two— how  boxes,  pit,  and  gallery,  joined 
in  one  most  vigorous  cheer!  When  he  called  his  mother 
names,  because  she  wouldn't  give  up  the  young  lady's  property, 
and  she  relenting,  caused  him  to  relent  likewise,  and  fall  down 
on  one  knee  and  ask  her  blessing,  how  the  ladies  in  the  audi- 
ence sobbed  !  When  he  was  hid  behind  the  curtam  in  the 
dark,  and  the  wicked  relation  poked  a  sharp  sword  in  every 
direction,  save  where  his  legs  were  plamly  visible,  what  a  thrill 
of  anxious  fear  ran  through  the  house  !  His  air,  his  figure, 
his  walk,  his  look,  everything  he  said  or  did,  was  the  subject 
of  commendation.  There  was  a  round  of  applause  every  time 
he  spoke.  And  when,  at  last,  in  the  pump-and-tub  scene,  Mrs. 
Grudden  lighted  the  blue  fire,  and  all  the  unemployed  mem- 
bers of  the  company  came  in,  and  tumbled  clown  in  various 
directions — not  because  that  had  anything  to  do  with  the  plot, 
but  in  order  to  finish  off  with  a  tableau — the  audience  (who 
had  by  this  time  increased  considerably)  gave  vent  to  such  a 
shout  of  enthusiasm,  as  had  not  been  heard  in  those  walls  for 
many  and  many  a  day. 

In  short,  the  success  both  of  new  piece  and  new  actor 
was  complete,  and  when  Miss  Snevellicci  was  called  for  at  the 
end  of  the  play,  Nicholas  led  her  on,  and  divided  the  ap- 
plause. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


317 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

CONCERNING  A  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  LONDON,  WHO  JOINS  THE 
COMPANY,  AND  AN  ELDERLY  ADMIRER  WHO  FOLLOWS  IN  HER 
TRAIN  ;  WITH  AN  AFFECTING  CEREMONY  CONSEQUENT  ON 
THEIR    ARRIVAL. 

The  new  piece  being  a  decided  hit,  was  announced  for 
every  evening  of  performance  until  further  notice,  and  the 
evenings  when  the  theatre  was  closed,  were  reduced  from  three 
in  the  week  to  two.  Nor  were  these  the  only  tokens  of  extra- 
ordinary success  ;  for,  on  the  succeeding  Saturday,  Nicholas 
received,  by  favor  of  the  indefatigable  Mrs.  Grudden,  no  less 
a  sum  than  thirty  shillings  ;  besides  which  substantial  reward, 
he  enjoyed  considerable  fame  and  honor  :  having  a  presenta- 
tion copy  of  Mr.  Curdle's  pamphlet  forwarded  to  the  theatre, 
with  that  gentleman's  own  autograph  (in  itself  an  inestimable 
treasure)  on  the  fly-leaf,  accompanied  with  a  note,  containing 
many  expressions  o£  approval,  and  an  unsolicited  assurance 
that  Mr.  Curdle  would  be  very  happy  to  read  Shakspeare  to 
him  for  three  hours  every  morning  before  breakfast  during  his 
stay  in  the  town. 

"  I've  got  another  novelty,  Johnson,"  said  Mr.  Crummies 
one  morning  in  great  glee. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  rejoined  Nicholas.     "  The  pony  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  we  never  come  to  the  pony  till  everything  else 
has  failed,"  said  Mr.  Crummies.  "  I  don't  think  we  shall 
come  to  the  pony  at  all,  this  season.  No,  no,  not  the 
pony." 

"  A  boy  phenomenon,  perhaps  ?  "  suggested  Nicholas. 

"  There  is  only  one  phenomenon,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Crumm- 
ies impressively,  "and  that's  a  girl." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Nicholas.  "•  I  beg  your  pardon.  Then 
I  don't  know  what  it  is,  I  am  sure." 

"  What  should  you  say  to  a  young  lady  from  London  .?  " 
inquired  Mr.  Crummies.  "  Miss  So-and-so,  of  the  Theatre 
Royal,  Drury  I.ane  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  she  would  look  very  well  in  the  bills,"  said 
Nicholas. 


3^8 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


"  You're  about  right  there,"  said  Mr.  Crummies  ;  "  and  if 
you  had  said  she  would  look  very  well  upon  the  stage  too,  you 
wouldn't  have  been  far  out.  Look  here  ;  what  do  you  think 
of  this  .?  " 

With  this  inquiry  Mr.  Crummies  unfolded  a  red  poster, 
and  a  blue  poster,  and  a  yellow  poster,  at  the  top  of  each  of 
which  public  notification  was  inscribed  in  enormous  characters 
"  First  appearance  of  the  unrivalled  Miss  Petowker  of  the 
Theatre  Royal,  Drury  oane  !  " 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Nicholas,  "  I  know  that  lady." 

"  Then  you  are  acquainted  with  as  much  talent  as  was  ever 
compressed  into  one  young  person's  body,"  retorted  Mr. 
Crummies,  rolling  up  the  bills  again  ;  "  that  is,  talent  of  a  cer- 
tain sort — of  a  certain  sort.  '  The  Blood  Drinker,'  "  added 
Mr.  Crummies  with  a  prophetic  sigh,  "  '  The  Blood  Drinker  ' 
will  die  with  that  girl  ;  and  she's  the  only  sylph  /  ever  saw, 
who  could  stand  upon  one  leg,  and  play  the  tambourine  on 
her  other  knee  like  a  sylph." 

"When  does  she  come  down?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  We  expect  her  to-day,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies.  "  She 
is  an  old  friend  of  J\lrs.  Crummles's.  Mrs.  Crummies  saw 
what  she  could  do — always  knew  it  from  the  first.  She  taught 
her,  indeed,  nearly  all  she  knows.  Mrs.  Crummies  was  the 
original  Blood  Drinker." 

"  Was  she,  indeed  ?  " 

"  Yes.      She  was  obliged  to  give  it  up  though." 

"  Did  it  disagree  with  her .''  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"Not  so  much  with  her,  as  with  her  audiences,"  replied 
Mr.  Crummies.  "  Nobody  could  stand  it.  It  was  too  tre- 
mendous. You  don't  quite  know  what  Mrs.  Crummies  is, 
yet." 

Nicholas  ventured  to  insinuate  that  he  thought  he  did. 

"  No,  no,  you  don't,"  said  Mr.  Crummies  ;  "you  don't  in- 
deed, /don't,  and  that's  a  fact.  I  don't  think  her  country 
will,  till  she  is  dead.  Some  new  proof  of  talent  bursts  from 
that  astonishing  woman  every  year  of  her  life.  Look  at  her, 
mother  of  six  children,  three  of  'em  alive,  and  all  upon  the 
stage  !  " 

"  Extraordinary  !  "  cried  Nicholas. 

"  Ah  !  extraordinary  indeed,"  rejoined  Mr.  Crummies, 
taking  a  complacent  pinch  of  snufF,  and  shaking  his,  head 
gravely.  "  I  i)led'j,c  you  my  professional  word  1  didn't  even 
know  she  could  tlance,  till  her  last  benefit,  and  tlieii  she  played 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  3 ig 

Juliet,  and  Helen  Macgregor,  and  did  the  skipping-rope  horn- 
pipe between  the  pieces.  The  very  first  time  I  saw  that 
admirable  woman,  Johnson,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  drawing  a 
little  nearer,  and  speaking  in  the  tone  of  confidential  friend- 
ship, "  she  stood  upon  her  head  on  the  butt-end  of  a  spear, 
surrounded  with  blazing  fireworks." 

"You  astonish  me  !  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  67/1? astonished  771  e  !  "  returned  Mr.  Crummies,  with  a  very 
serious  countenance.  "  Such  grace,  coupled  with  such  dignity  ! 
I  adored  her  from  that  moment  !  " 

The  arrival  of  the  gifted  subject  of  these  remarks  put  an 
abrupt  termination  to  Mr.  Crummles's  eulogium.  Almost  im- 
mediately afterwards.  Master  Percy  Crummies  entered  with  a 
letter,  which  had  arrived  by  the  General  Post,  and  was  directed 
to  his  gracious  mother  ;  at  sight  of  the  superscription  where- 
of, Mrs.  Crummies  exclaimed,  "  From  Henrietta  Petowker,  I 
do  declare  !  "  and  instantlv  became  absorbed  in  the  contents. 

"  Is  it — ?"  inquired  Mr.  Crummies,  hesitating. 

"Oh,  yes,  it's  all  right,"  replied  Mrs.  Crummies,  anticipa- 
ting the  question.  "What  an  excellent  thing  for  her,  to  be 
sure  ! " 

"  It's  the  best  thing  altogether,  that  I  ever  heard  of,  I 
think,"  said  Mr.  Crummies  ;  and  then  Mr.  Crummies,  Mrs. 
Crummies,  and  Master  Percy  Crummies,  all  fell  to  laugh- 
ing violently.  Nicholas  left  them  to  enjoy  their  mirth  to- 
gether, and  walked  to  his  lodgings  ;  wondering  very  much 
what  mystery  connected  with  Miss  Petowker  could  provoke 
such  merriment,  and  pondering  still  more  on  the  extreme  sur- 
prise with  which  thar  lady  would  regard  his  sudden  enlistment 
in  a  profession  of  which  she  w^as  such  a  distinguished  and 
brilliant  ornament. 

But,  in  this  latter  respect  he  was  mistaken  ;  for — whether 
Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  had  paved  the  wa3%  or  Miss  Petowker 
had  some  special  reason  for  treating  him  with  even  more  than 
her  usual  amiability — their  meeting  at  the  theatre  next  day 
was  more  like  that  of  two  dear  friends  who  had  been  insepara- 
ble from  infancy,  than  a  recognition  passing  between  a  lady 
and  gentleman  who  had  only  met  some  half  dozen  times,  and 
then  by  mere  chance.  Nay,  Miss  Petowker  e\"en  whispered 
that  she  had  wholly  dropped  the  Kenwigses  in  her  conversa- 
tions with  the  manager's  family,  and  had  represented  herself 
as  having  encountered  Mr.  Johnson  in  the  very  first  and  most 
fashionable  circles  ;  and  on  Nicholas  receiving  this  intelligence 


,20  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

with  unfeigned  surprise,  she  added,  with  a  sweet  glance,  that 
she  had  a  claim  on  his  good  nature  now,  and  might  tax  it  be- 
fore long. 

Nicholas  had  the  honor  of  playing  in  a  slight  piece  with 
Miss  Petowker  that  night,  and  could  not  but  observe  that 
the  warmth  of  her  reception  was  mainly  attributable  to  a  most 
persevering  umbrella  in  the  upper  boxes  ;  he  saw,  too,  that 
the  enchanting  actress  cast  many  sweet  looks  towards  the 
quarter  whence  these  sounds  proceeded  ;  and  that  every  time 
she  did  so,  the  umbrella  broke  out  afresh.  Once,  he  thought 
that  a  peculiarly  shaped  hat  in  the  same  corner  was  not  wholly 
unknown  to  him  ;  but,  being  occupied  with  his  share  of  the 
stage  business,  he  bestowed  no  great  attention  upon  this  cir- 
cuinstance,  and  it  had  quite  vanished  from  his  memory  by  the 
time  he  reached  home. 

He  had  just  sat  down  to  supper  with  Smike,  when  one  of 
the  people  of  the  house  came  outside  the  door,  and  announced 
that  a  gentleman  below  stairs  wished  to  speak  to  Mr.  Johnson, 

"  Well,  if  he  does,  you  must  tell  him  to  come  up  ;  that's 
all  I  know,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  One  of  our  hungry  brethren, 
I  suppose,  Smike." 

His  fellow-lodger  looked  at  the  cold  meat  in  silent  calcula- 
tion of  the  quantity  that  would  be  left  for  dinner  next  day,  and 
put  back  a  slice  he  had  cut  for  himself,  in  order  that  the  \  isit- 
or's  encroachments  might  be  less  formidable  in  their  effects. 

'■It  is  not  anybody  who  has  been  here  before,"  said 
Nicholas,  "  for  he  is  tumbling  up  every  stair.  Come  in,  come 
in.     In  the  name  of  wonder  !     Mr.  Lillyvick  ?  " 

It  was,  indeed,  the  collector  of  water-rates  who,  regarding 
Nicholas,  with  a  fixed  look  and  immovable  countenance, 
shook  hands  with  most  portentous  solemnity,  and  sat  himself 
down  in  a  seat  by  the  chimney-corner. 

"  Why,  when  did  you  come  here  ?  "  asked  Nicholas 

"This  morning,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Lillyvick. 

"  Oh  !  I  see  ;  then  you  were  at  the  theatre  to-night,  and  it 
was  your  umb " 

"This  umbrella,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  producing  a  fat  green 
cotton  one  with  a  battered  ferrule.  "  What  did  you  think  of 
that  performance  ? " 

"So  far  as  I  could  judge,  being  on  the  stage,"  replied 
Nicholas,  "  I  thought  it  very  agreeable." 

"Agreeable  !  "  cried  the  collector.  "I  mean  to  say,  sir, 
that  it  was  delicious." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


-^21 


Mr.  Lillyvick  bent  forward  to  pronounce  the  last  word 
with  greater  emphasis  ;  and  having  done  so,  drew  himself  up, 
and  frowned  and  nodded  a  great  many  times. 

"I  say,  delicious,"  repeated  Mr.  Lillyvick.  "Absorbing, 
fairy-like,  toomultuous,"  and  again  Mr.  Lillyvick  drew  himself 
up,  and  again  he  frowned  and  nodded. 

"Ah!"  said  Nicholas,  a  little  surprised  at  these  symp- 
toms of  ecstatic  approbation.     "  Yes,  she  is  a  clever  girl." 

"  She  is  a  divinity,"  returned  Mr.  Lillyvick,  giving  a  col- 
lector's double  knock  on  the  ground  with  the  umbrella  before- 
mentioned.  "I  have  known  divine  actresses  before  now,  sir; 
I  used  to  collect — at  least  I  used  to  call  for — and  very  often 
call  for — the  water-rate  at  the  house  of  a  divine  actress,  who 
lived  in  my  beat  for  upwards  of  four  year,  but  never — no, 
never,  sir — of  all  divine  creatures,  actresses  or  no  actresses, 
did  I  see  a  diviner  one  than  is  Henrietta  Petowker." 

Nicholas  had  much  ado  to  prevent  himself  from  laughing ; 
not  trusting  himself  to  speak,  he  merely  nodded  in  accord- 
ance with  Mr.  Lillyvick's  nods,  and  remained  silent. 

"  Let  me  speak  a  word  with  you  in  private,"  said  Mr. 
Lillyvick. 

Nicholas  looked  good-humoredly  at  Smike,  who,  taking 
the  hint,  disappeared. 

"  A  bachelor  is  a  miserable  wretch,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick. 

"  Is  he  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"He  is,"  rejoined  the  collector.  "  I  have  lived  in  the 
world  for  nigh  si.xty  year,  and  I  ought  to  know  what  it  is." 

"  You  ought  to  know,  certainlj^,"  thought  Nicholas  ;  "  but 
whether  you  do  or  not,  is  another  question." 

"  If  a  bachelor  happens  to  have  saved  a  little  matter  of 
money,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  "  his  sisters  and  brothers,  and 
nephews  and  nieces,  look  to  that  money,  and  not  to  him  ; 
even  if,  by  being  a  public  character,  he  is  the  head  of  the 
family,  or,  as  it  may  be,  the  main  from  which  all  the  other 
little  branches  are  turned  on,  they  still  wish  him  dead  all  the 
while,  and  get  low-spirited  every  time  they  see  him  looking  in 
good  health,  because  they  want  to  come  into  his  little  prop-' 
ert}\     You  see  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Nicholas  :  "  it's  very  true,  no  doubt." 

"  The  great  reason  for  not  being  married,"  resumed  Mr. 
Lillyvick,  "  is  the  expense  ;  that's  what's  kept  me  off,  or  else 
— Lord  !  "  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  snapping  his  fingers,  '*  I  might 
have  had  fifty  women." 

21 


32  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Fine  women  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  Fine  women,  sir  !  "  replied  the  collector  ;  "  ay  !  not  so 
fine  as  Henrietta  Petowker,  for  she  is  an  uncommon  speci- 
men, but  such  women  as  don't  fall  into  every  man's  way,  I 
can  tell  you.  Now  suppose  a  man  can  get  a  fortune  in  a  wife 
instead  of  with  her — eh  ?  " 

"  Why,  then,  he's  a  lucky  fellow,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"That's  what  I  say,"  retorted  the  collector,  patting  him 
benignantly  on  the  side  of  the  head  with  his  umbrella ;  "  just 
what  I  say.  Henrietta  Petowker,  the  talented  Henrietta 
Petowker  has  a  fortune  in  herself,  and  I  am  going  to " 

"To  make  her  Mrs.  Lillyvick  ?  "  suggested  Nicholas. 

"  No,  sir,  not  to  make  her  Mrs.  Lillyvick,"  replied  the 
collector.  "  Actresses,  sir,  always  keep  their  maiden  names 
— that's  the  regular  thing — but  Fm  going  to  marry  her  ;  and 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  too." 

"  I  congratulate  you,  sir,"  said  Nicholas. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  the  collector,  buttoning  his 
waistcoat.  "  I  shall  draw  her  salary,  of  course,  and  I  hope 
after  all  that  it's  nearly  as  cheap  to  keep  two  as  it  is  to  keep 
one  ;  that's  a  consolation." 

"  Surely  you  don't  want  any  consolation  at  such  a  mo- 
ment ?  "  observed  Nicholas. 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Lillyvick,  shaking  his  head  nervously: 
"  no — of  course  not." 

"  But  how  come  you  both  here,  if  you're  going  to  be  mar- 
ried, Mr.  Lillyvick?"  asked  Nicholas. 

"Why,  that's  what  I  came  to  explain  to  you,"  replied  the 
collector  of  water-rate.  "  The  fact  is,  we  have  thought  it 
best  to  keep  it  secret  from  the  family." 

"  Family  !  "  said  Nicholas.     "  What  family  ?  " 

"The  Kenwigses  of  course,"  rejoined  Mr.  Lillyvick.  "If 
my  niece  and  the  children  had  known  a  word  about  it  before 
I  came  away,  they'd  have  gone  into  fits  at  my  feet,  and  never 
have  come  out  of  'em  till  I  took  an  oath  not  to  marry  any- 
body. Or  they'd  have  got  out  a  commission  of  lunacy,  or 
some  dreadful  thing,"  said  the  collector,  quite  trembling  as  he 
spoke. 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Nicholas.  "Yes;  they  would  have 
been  jealous,  no  doubt." 

"  To  prevent  which,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  "  Henrietta  Pe- 
towker (it  was  settled  between  us)  should  come  down  here  to 
her  friends,  the  Crummleses,  under  pretence  of  this  engage- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


323 


ment,  and  I  should  go  down  to  Guildford  the  day  before,  and 
join  her  on  the  coach  there  ;  which  I  did,  and  we  came  down 
from  Guildford  yesterday  together.  Now,  for  fear  you  should 
be  writing  to  Mr.  Noggs,  and  might  say  anything  about  us, 
we  have  thought  it  best  to  let  you  into  the  secret.  We  shall 
be  married  from  the  Crummleses'  lodgings,  and  shall  be  de- 
lighted to  see  you — either  before  church  or  at  breakfast-time, 
which  you  like.  It  won't  be  expensive,  you  know,"'  said  the 
collector,  highly  anxious  to  prevent  any  misunderstanding  on 
•this  point  ;  "just  muffins  and  coffee,  with  perhaps  a  shrimp 
or  something  of  that  sort  for  a  relish,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  Oh,  I  shall 
be  most  happy  to  come  ;  it  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure. 
Where's  the  lady  stopping  ?     With  Mrs.  Crummies  ?  " 

"Why,  no,"  said  the  collector;  "  they  couldn't  very  well 
dispose  of  her  at  night,  and  so  she  is  staying  with  an  acquaint- 
ance of  hers,  and  another  young  lady  ;  they  both  belong  to 
the  theatre." 

"  Miss  Snevellicci,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  name." 

"  And  they'll  be  bridesmaids,  I  presume  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Why,"  said  the  collector,  with  a  rueful  face,  "they  will 
have  four  bridesmaids.  I'm  afraid  they'll  make  it  rather  theat- 
rical." 

"  Oh  no,  not  at  all,"  replied  Nicholas,  with  an  awkward 
attempt  to  convert  a  laugh  into  a  cough.  "Who  may  the  four 
be  ?     Miss  Snevellicci  of  course — Miss  Ledrook " 

"  The — the  phenomenon,"  groaned  the  collector. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  cried  Nicholas.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  don't 
know  what  I'm  laughing  at — yes,  that'll  be  very  pretty — the 
phenomenon — who  else  .''  " 

"  Some  young  woman  or  other,"  replied  the  collector, 
rising  ;  "  some  other  friend  of  Henrietta  Petowker's.  Well, 
you'll  be  careful  not  to  say  anything  about  it,  will  you  }  " 

"  You  may  safely  depend  upon  me,"  replied  Nicholas. 
*'  Won't  you  take  anything  to  eat  or  drink  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  collector  ;  "  I  haven't  any  appetite.  I 
should  think  it  was  a  very  pleasant  life,  the  married  one,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  rejoined  Nicholas. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  collector ;  "  certainly.  Oh  yes.  No 
doubt.     Good-night." 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Lillyvick,  whose  manner  had  ex- 
hibited through  the  whole  of  this  interview  a  most  extraordinary 


324  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

compound  of  precipitation,  hesitation,  confidence  and  doubt, 
fondness,  misgiving,  meanness,  and  self-importance,  turned  liis 
baclv  upon  the  room,  and  left  Nicholas  to  enjoy  a  laugh  by 
himself  if  he  felt  so  disposed. 

Without  stopping  to  inquire  whether  the  intervening  day 
appeared  to  Nicholas  to  consist  of  the  usual  number  of  hours 
of  the  ordinary  length,  it  may  be  remarked  that,  to  the  parties 
more  directly  interested  in  the  forthcoming  ceremony,  it  passed 
with  great  rapidity,  insomuch  that  when  Miss  Petowker  awoke 
on  the  succeeding  morning  in  the  chamber  of  Miss  Snevellicci, 
she  declared  that  nothing  should  ever  persuade  her  that  that 
really  was  the  day  which  was  to  behold  a  change  in  her  condi- 
tion. 

"  I  never  will  believe  it,"  said  Miss  Petowker  ;  "  I  cannot 
really.  It's  of  no  use  talking,  I  never  can  make  up  my  mind 
to  go  through  with  such  a  trial  !  " 

On  hearing  this.  Miss  Snevellicci  and  Miss  Ledrook,  who 
knew  perfectly  well  that  their  fair  friend's  mind  had  been 
made  up  for  three  or  four  years,  at  any  period  of  which  time 
she  would  have  cheerfully  undergone  the  desperate  trial  now 
approaching  if  she  could  have  found  any  eligible  gentleman 
disposed  for  the  venture,  began  to  preach  comfort  and  firm- 
ness, and  to  say  how  very  proud  she  ought  to  feel  that  it  was 
in  her  power  to  confer  lasting  bliss  on  a  deserving  object,  and 
how  necessary  it  was  for  the  happiness  of  mankind  in  general 
that  women  should  possess  fortitude  and  resignation  on  such 
occasions  ;  and  that  although  for  their  parts  they  held  true 
happiness  to  consist  in  a  single  life,  which  thev  would  not  will- 
ingly exchange — no,  not  for  any  worldl)'  consideration — still 
(thank  Heaven),  if  ever  the  time  should  come,  they  hoped  they 
knew  their  duty  too  well  to  repine,  but  would  the  rather  sub- 
mit with  meekness  and  humility  of  spirit  to  a  fate  for  wliich 
Providence  had  clearly  designed  them  with  a  view  to  the  con- 
tentment and  reward  of  their  fellow-creatures. 

"  I  might  feel  it  was  a  great  blow,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci, 
"  to  break  up  old  associations  and  what-do-you-callems  of  that 
kind,  but  I  would  submit  my  dear,  I  would  indeed." 

"  So  would  I,"  said  Miss  Ledrook  ;  "  I  would  rather  court 
the  yoke  than  shun  it.  I  have  broken  hearts  before  now,  and 
I'm  very  sorry  for  it.     It's  a  terrible  thing  to  reflect  upon." 

"  It  is  indeed,"  said  Miss  Snevellicci.  "  Now  Led,  my 
dear,  we  must  positively  get  her  ready,  or  we  shall  be  too  late, 
we  shall  indeed." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  325 

This  pious  reasoning,  and  perhaps  the  fear  of  being  too  late, 
supported  the  bride  through  the  ceremony  of  robing,  after 
which,  strong  tea  and  brandv  were  administered  in  alternate 
doses  as  a  means  of  strengthening  her  feeble  limbs  and  caus- 
ing her  to  walk  steadier. 

"  How  do  you  feel  now,  my  love  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Snevel- 
licci. 

"  Oh  Lilly vick  !."  cried  the  bride.  "  If  you  knew  what  I 
am  undergoing  for  you  !  " 

"  Of  course  he  knows  it,  love,  and  will  never  forget  it," 
said  Miss  Ledrook. 

"  Do  you  think  he  won't  ?  "  cried  Miss  Petowker,  really 
showing  great  capability  for  the  stage.  "  Oh,  do  you  think  he 
won't .''  Do  you  think  Lillyvick  will  always  remember  it — 
always,  alwa}'S,  always  .''  " 

There  is  no  knowing  in  what  this  burst  of  feeling  might 
have  ended,  if  Miss  Snevellicci  had  not  at  that  moment  pro- 
claimed the  arrival  of  the  fly,  which  so  astounded  the  bride 
that  she  shook  off  divers  alarming  symptoms  which  were  com- 
ing on  very  strong,  and  running  to  the  glass  adjusted  her  dress, 
and  calmly  declared  that  she  was  ready  for  the  sacrifice. 

She  was  accordingly  supported  into  the  coach,  and  there 
"  kept  up  "  (as  Miss  Snevellicci  said)  with  perpetual  sniffs  of 
sa/  volatile  and  sips  of  brandy  and  other  gentle  stimulants, 
until  they  reached  the  manager's  door,  which  was  already 
opened  by  the  two  Master  Crummleses,  who  wore  white  cock- 
ades, and  were  decorated  with  the  choicest  and  most  resplend- 
ent waistcoats  in  the  theatrical  v/ardrobe.  By  the  combined  ex- 
ertions of  these  young  gentlemen  and  the  bridesmaids,  assisted 
by  the  coachman.  Miss  Petowker  was  at  length  supported  in  a 
condition  of  much  exhaustion  to  the  first  floor,  where  she  no 
sooner  encountered  the  youthful  bridegroom  than  she  fainted 
with  great  decorum. 

"  Henrietta  Petowker  !  "  said  the  collector  ;  "  cheer  up,  my 
lovely  one." 

Miss  Petowker  grasped  the  collector's  hand,  but  emotion 
choked  her  utterance. 

"  Is  the  sight  of  me  so  dreadful,  Henrietta  Petowker  ? " 
said  the  collector. 

"  Oh  no,  no,  no,"  rejoined  the  bride  ;  "but  all  the  friends, 
the  darling  friends,  of  my  youthful  days — to  leave  them  all — 
it  is  such  a  shock  !  " 

With  such  expressions  of  sorrow,  Miss  Petowker  went  on 


,26  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

to  enumerate  the  dear  friends  of  her  youthful  days  one  by 
one,  and  to  call  upon  such  of  them  as  were  present  to  come 
and  embrace  her.  This  done,  she  remembered  that  Mrs. 
Crummies  had  been  more  than  a  mother  to  her,  and  after  that, 
that  Mr.  Crummies  had  been  more  than  a  father  to  her,  and 
after  that,  that  the  Master  Crummleses  and  Miss  Ninetta 
Crummies  had  been  more  than  brothers  and  sisters  to  her. 
These  various  remembrances  being  each  accompanied  with 
a  series  of  hugs,  occupied  a  long  time,  and  they  were  obliged 
to  drive  to  church  very  fast,  for  fear  they  should  be  too  late. 

The  procession  consisted  of  two  flys ;  in  the  first  of  which 
were  Miss  Bravassa  (the  fourth  bridesmaid),  Mrs.  Crummies, 
the  collector,  and  Mr.  Folair,  who  had  been  chosen  as  his 
second  on  the  occasion.  In  the  other  were  the  bride,  Mr. 
Crummies,  Miss  Snevellicci,  Miss  Ledrook,  and  the  phenome- 
non. The  costumes  were  beautiful.  The  bridesmaids  were 
quite  covered  with  artificial  flowers,  and  the  phenomenon,  in 
particular,  was  rendered  almost  invisible  by  the  portable 
arbor  in  which  she  was  enshrined.  Miss  Ledrook,  who  was 
of  a  romantic  turn,  wore  in  her  breast  the  miniature  of  some 
field-officer  unknown,  which  she  had  purchased,  a  great  bar- 
gain, not  very  long  before  ;  the  other  ladies  displayed  several 
dazzling  articles  of  imitative  jewellery,  almost  equal  to  real  ; 
and  Mrs.  Crummies  came  out  in  a  stern  and  gloomy  majesty, 
which  attracted  the  admiration  of  all  beholders. 

But,  perhaps  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Crummies  was  more 
striking  and  appropriate  than  that  of  any  member  of  the  party. 
This  gentleman,  who  personated  the  bride's  father,  had,  in 
pursuance  of  a  happy  and  original  conception,  "  made  up  " 
for  the  part  by  arraying  himself  in  a  theatrical  wig,  of  a  style 
and  pattern  commonly  known  as  a  brown  George,  and  more- 
over assuming  a  snuff-colored  suit,  of  the  previous  century, 
with  gray  silk  stockings,  and  buckles  to  his  shoes.  The  bet- 
ter to  support  his  assumed  character  he  had  determined  to 
be  greatly  overcome,  and,  consequently,  when  they  entered 
the  church,  the  sobs  of  the  affectionate  parent  were  so  heart- 
rending that  the  pew-opener  suggested  the  propriety  of  his 
retiring  to  the  vestry,  and  comforting  himself  with  a  glass  of 
water  before  the  ceremony  began. 

The  procession  up  the  aisle  was  beautiful.  The  bride, 
with  the  four  bridesmaids,  forming  a  group  previously  arranged 
and  rehearsed  ;  the  collector,  followed  by  his  second,  imita- 
ting his  walk  and  gestures,  to  the  indescribable  amusement  of 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


327 


some  theatrical  friends  in  the  gallery ;  Mr.  Crummies,  with 
an  infirm  and  feeble  gait ;  Mrs.  Crummies  advancing  with 
that  stage  walk,  which  consists  of  a  stride  and  a  stop  alter- 
nately ;  it  was  the  completest  thing  ever  witnessed.  The 
ceremony  was  very  quickly  disposed  of,  and  all  parties  pres- 
ent having  signed  the  register  (for  which  purpose,  when  it 
came  to  his  turn,  Mr.  Crummies  carefully  wiped  and  put  on 
an  immense  pair  of  spectacles),  they  went  back  to  breakfast 
in  high  spirits.  And  here  they  found  Nicholas  awaiting  their 
arrival. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Crummies,  who  had  been  assisting  Mrs. 
Grudden  in  the  preparations,  which  were  on  a  more  extensive 
scale  than  was  quite  agreeable  to  the  collector.  "  Breakfast, 
breakfast." 

No  second  invitation  was  required.  The  company  crowded 
and  squeezed  themselves  at  the  table  as  well  as  they  could, 
and  fell  to,  immediately  :  Miss  Petowker  blushing  very  much 
when  anybody  was  looking,  and  eating  ver}^  much  when  any- 
body was  not  looking ;  and  Mr.  Lillyvick  going  to  work  as 
though  with  the  cool  resolve,  that  since  the  good  things 
must  be  paid  for  by  him,  he  would  leave  as  little  as  possible 
for  the  Crummleses  to  eat  up  afterwards. 

"  It's  ver}'  soon  done,  sir,  isn't  it  ? "  inquired  Mr.  Folair 
of  the  collector,  leaning  over  the  table  to  address  him. 

"  What  is  soon  done,  sir  ?  "  returned  Mr.  Lillyvick. 

"The  tying  up,  the  fixing  oneself  with  a  wife,"  replied 
Mr.  Folair.     "  It  don't  take  long,  does  it  ?  " 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Lillyvick,  coloring.  "It  does  not 
take  long.     And  what  then,  sir  ? " 

"  Oh  !  nothing,"  said  the  actor.  "  It  don't  take  a  man 
long  to  hang  himself,  either,  eh  1     Ha,  ha  !  " 

Mr.  Lillyvick  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  looked 
round  the  table  with  indignant  astonishment. 

"  To  hang  himself !  "  repeated  Mr.  Lillyvick. 

A  profound  silence  came  upon  all,  for  Mr.  Lilly\'ick  was 
dignified  beyond  expression. 

"  To  hang  himself  !  "  cried  Mr.  Lillj^dck  again.  "  Is  any 
parallel  attempted  to  be  drawn  in  this  company  between 
matrimony  and  hanging  ?  " 

"  The  noose,  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Folair,  a  little  crest- 
fallen. 

"The  noose,  sir?"  retorted  Mr.  Lillyvick.  "Does  any 
man  dare  to  speak  to  me  of  a  noose,  and  Henrietta  Pe " 


328 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


"  Lillyvick,"  suggested   Mr.   Crummies. 

— "  and  Henrietta  Lillyvick  in  the  same  breath  ?  "  said  the 
collector.  "  In  this  house,  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Crummies,  who  have  brought  up  a  talented  and  virtuous 
family,  to  be  blessings  and  phenomenons,  and  what  not,  are 
we  to  hear  talk  of  nooses  ?  " 

"  Folair,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  deeming  it  a  matter  of 
decency  to  be  affected  by  this  allusion  to  himself  and  partner, 
"I'm  astonished  at  you." 

"  What  are  you  going  on  in  this  way  at  me  for?  "  urged 
the  unfortunate  actor.     "  What  have  I  done  ?  " 

"  Done,  sir  !  "  cried  Mr.  Lillyvick,  "  aimed  a  blow  at  the 
whole  framework  of  society — " 

"  And  the  best  and  tenderest  feelings,"  added  Crummies, 
relapsing  into  the  old  man. 

"  And  the  highest  and  most  estimable  of  social  ties,"  said 
the  collector.  "  Noose  !  As  if  one  was  caught,  trapped,  into 
the  married  state,  pinned  by  the  leg,  instead  of  going  into  it 
of  one's  own  accord  and  glor\'ing  in  the  act  !  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  make  it  out,  that  you  were  caught  and 
trapped,  and  pinned  by  the  leg,"  replied  the  actor.  "  I'm 
sorry  for  it  ;  I  can't  say  any  more." 

"  So  you  ought  to  be,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Lillyvick  ;  "  and 
I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  have  enough  of  feeling  left  to  be 


so." 


The  quarrel  appearing  to  terminate  with  this  reply,  Mrs. 
Lillyvick  considered  that  the  fittest  occasion  (the  attention  of 
the  company  being  no  longer  distracted)  to  burst  into  tears, 
and  require  the  assistance  of  all  four  bridesmaids,  which  was 
immediately  rendered,  though  not  without  some  confusion, 
for  the  room  being  small  and  the  table-cloth  long,  a  whole 
detachment  of  plates  were  swept  off  the  board  at  the  very 
first  move.  Regardless  of  this  circumstance,  however,  Mrs. 
Lillyvick  refused  to  be  comforted  until  the  belligerents  had 
passed  their  words  that  the  dispute  should  be  carried  no 
further,  which,  after  a  sufficient  show  of  reluctance,  they  did, 
and  from  that  time  Mr.  Folair  sat  in  moody  silence,  content- 
ing himself  with  pinching  Nicholas's  leg  when  anything  was 
said,  and  so  expressing  his  contempt  both  for  the  speaker  and 
the  sentiments  to  which  he  gave  utterance. 

There  were  a  great  number  of  speeches  made  ;  some  by 
Nicholas,  and  some  by  Crummies,  and  some  by  the  collector ; 
two  by  the  master  Crummleses  in  returning  thanks  for  them- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  329 

selves,  and  one  by  the  phenomenon  on  behalf  of  the  brides- 
maids, at  which  Mrs.  Crummies  shed  tears.  There  was  some 
singing,  too,  from  Miss  I>edrook  and  Miss  Bravassa,  and  very- 
likely  there  might  ha\"e  been  more,  if  the  fly-driver,  who 
stopped  to  drive  the  happy  pair  to  the  spot  where  they  pro- 
posed to  take  steamboat  to  Ryde,  had  not  sent  in  a  peremp- 
tory message  intimating,  that  if  they  didn't  come  directly  he 
should  infallibly  demand  eighteen-pence  over  and  above  his 
agreement. 

This  desperate  threat  effectually  broke  up  the  part}\ 
After  a  most  pathetic  leave-taking,  Mr.  Lillyvick  and  his  bride 
departed  for  Ryde,  where  they  were  to  spend  the  next  two 
days  in  profound  retirement,  and  whither  they  were  accom- 
panied by  the  infant,  who  had  been  appointed  travelling 
bridesmaid  on  Mr.  Lillyvick's  express  stipulation  :  as  the 
steamboat  people,  deceived  by  her  size,  would  (he  had  pre- 
viously ascertained)  transport  her  at  half-price. 

As  there  was  no  performance  that  night,  Mr.  Crummies 
declared  his  intention  of  keeping  it  up  till  everything  to  drink 
was  disposed  of ;  but  Nicholas  having  to  play  Romeo  for  the 
first  time  on  the  ensuing  evening,  contrived  to  slip  away  in 
the  midst  of  a  temporary  confusion,  occasioned  by  the  unex- 
pected development  of  strong  symptoms  of  inebriety  in  the 
conduct  of  Ivlrs.  Grudden. 

To  this  act  of  desertion  he  was  led,  not  only  by  his  own 
inclinations,  but  by  his  anxiety  on  account  of  Smike,  who, 
having  to  sustain  the  character  of  the  Apothecary,  had  been 
as  yet  wholly  unable  to  get  any  more  of  the  part  into  his  head 
than  the  general  idea  that  he  was  very  hungry,  which — per- 
haps from  old  recollections — he  had  acquired  with  great  apti- 
tude. 

"  I  don't  know  what's  to  be  done,  Smike,"  said  Nicholas, 
laying  down  the  book.  "  I  am  afraid  you  can't  learn  it,  my 
poor  fellow." 

"  I  am  afraid  not  "  said  Smike,  shaking  his  head.  "  I 
think  if  you — but  that  would  give  you  so  much  trouble." 

"  What  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas.     "Never  mind  me." 

"  I  think,"  said  Smike,  "  if  you  were  to  keep  saying  it  to 
me  in  little  bits,  over  and  over  again,  I  should  be  able  to 
recollect  it  from  hearing  you." 

"  Do  you  think  so!"  exclaimed  Nicholas.  "Well  said. 
Let  us  see  who  tires  first.  Not  I,  Smike,  trust  me.  Now  then, 
'  Who  calls  so  loud  t '  " 


330  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  'Who  calls  so  loud  ? '  "  said  Smike. 

"  '  Who  calls  so  loud  ? '  "  repeated  Nicholas. 

"  '  Who  calls  so  loud  ? '  "  cried  Smike. 

Thus  they  continued  to  ask  each  other  who  called  so  loud, 
over  and  over  again;  and  when  Smike  had  that  by  heart, 
Nicholas  went  to  another  sentence,  and  then  to  two  at  a 
time,  and  then  to  three,  and  so  on,  until  at  midnight  poor 
Smike  found  to  his  unspeakable  joy  that  he  really  began  to 
remember  something  about  the  text. 

Early  in  the  morning  they  went  to  it  again,  and  Smike, 
rendered  more  confident  by  the  progress  he  had  already 
made,  got  on  faster  and  with  better  heart.  As  soon  as  he  be- 
gan to  acquire  the  words  pretty  freely,  Nicholas  showed  him 
how  he  must  come  in  with  both  hands  spread  out  upon  his 
stomach,  and  how  he  must  occasionally  rub  it,  in  compliance 
with  the  established  form  by  which  people  on  the  stage  always 
denote  that  ther  want  something  to  eat.  After  the  morning's 
rehearsal  they  went  to  work  again,  nor  did  they  stop,  except 
for  a  hasty  dinner,  until  it  was  time  to  repair  to  the  theatre 
at  night. 

Never  had  master  a  more  anxious,  humble,  docile  pupil. 
Never  had  pupil  a  more  patient,  unwear}dng,  considerate  kind- 
hearted  master. 

As  soon  as  they  were  dressed,  and  at  every  interval  when 
he  was  not  upon  the  stage,  Nicholas  renewed  his  instructions. 
They  prospered  well.  The  Romeo  was  received  with  hearty 
plaudits  and  unbounded  favor,  and  Smike  was  pronounced 
unanimously,  alike  by  audience  and  actors,  the  very  prince 
and  prodigy  of  Apothecaries. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


IS    FRAUGHT    WITH    SOME    DANGER    TO    MISS    NICKLEBY'S    PEACE 

OF    MIND. 

The  place  was  a  handsome  suit  of  private  apartments  in 
Regent  Street  ;  the  time  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  to 
the  dull  and  plodding,  and  the  first  hour  of  morning  to  the  gay 
and  spirited  ;  the  persons  were  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  and 
his  friend  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk. 

These  distinguished  gentlemen  were  reclining  listlessly  on  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  33 1 

couple  of  sofas,  with  a  table  between  them,  on  which  were 
scattered  in  rich  confusion  the  materials  of  an  untasted  break- 
fast. Newspapers  lay  strewn  about  the  room,  but  these,  like 
the  meal,  were  neglected  and  unnoticed  ]  not,  however,  be- 
cause any  flow  of  conversation  prevented  the  attractions  of 
the  journals  from  being  called  into  request,  for  not  a  word 
was  exchanged  between  the  two,  nor  was  any  sound  uttered, 
save  when  one,  in  tossing  about  to  find  an  easier  resting-place 
for  his  aching  head,  uttered  an  exclamation  of  impatience, 
and  seemed  for  the  moment  to  communicate  a  new  restlessness 
to  his  companion. 

These  apjoearances  would  in  themselves  have  furnished  a 
pretty  strong  clue  to  the  extent  of  the  debauch  of  the  previous 
night,  even  if  there  had  not  been  other  indications  of  the 
amusements  in  which  it  has  been  passed.  A  couple  of  billiard 
balls,  all  mud  and  dirt,  two  battered  hats,  a  champagne  bottle 
with  a  soiled  glove  twisted  round  the  neck,  to  allow  of  its  be- 
ing grasped  more  surely  in  its  capacity  of  an  ofifensive  weapon  ; 
a  broken  cane  ;  a  card-case  without  the  top  ;  an  empty  purse  ; 
a  watch-guard  snapped  asunder  ;  a  handful  of  silver,  mingled 
with  fragments  of  half-smoked  cigars,  and  their  stale  and 
crumbled  ashes  ;  these,  and  many  other  tokens  of  riot  and 
disorder,  hinted  very  intelligibly  at  the  nature  of  last  night's 
gentlemanly  frolics. 

Lord  Frederick  Verisopht  was  the  first  to  speak.  Dropping 
his  slippered  foot  on  the  ground,  and,  yawning  heavily,  he 
struggled  into  a  sitting  posture,  and  turned  his  dull  languid 
eyes  towards  his  friend,  to  whom  he  called  in  a  drowsy  voice. 

"  Hallo  !  "  replied  Sir  Mulberry,  turning  round. 

"Are  we  going  to  Tie  here  all  da-a-y  ?  "  said  the  lord. 

"  I  don't  know  that  we're  fit  for  anything  else,"  replied  Sir 
Mulberry  ;  "  yet  awhile,  at  least.  I  haven't  a  grain  of  life  in 
me  this  morning." 

'*  Life  !  "  cried  Lord  Frederick.  "  I  feel  as  if  there  would 
be  nothing  so  snug  and  comfortable  as  to  die  at  once." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  die  ?  "  said  Sir  Mulberry. 

With  which  inquiry  he  turned  his  face  away,  and  seemed 
to  occupy  himself  in  an  attempt  to  fall  asleep. 

His  hopeful  friend  and  pupil  drew  a  chair  to  the  breakfast 
table,  and  essayed  to  eat  ;  but,  finding  that  impossible,  lounged 
to  the  window,  then  loitered  up  and  down  the  room  with  his 
hand  to  his  fevered  head,  and  finally  threw  himself  again  on 
his  sofa,  and  roused  his  friend  once  more. 


332  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  What  the  devil's  the  matter?"  groaned  Sir  Mulberry, 
sitting  upright  on  the  couch. 

Although  Sir  Mulberry  said  this  with  sufficient  ill-humor, 
he  did  not  seem  to  feel  himself  quite  at  liberty  to  remain  si- 
lent ;  for  after  stretching  himself  very  often,  and  declaring 
with  a  shiver  that  it  was  "infernal  cold,"  he  made  an  experi- 
ment at  the  breakfast  table,  and  proving  more  successful  than 
his  less-seasoned  friend,  remained  there. 

"  Suppose,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  pausing  with  a  morsel  on 
the  point  of  the  fork,  "  Suppose  we  go  back  to  the  subject  of 
little  Nickleby,  eh  ?  " 

"  Which  little  Nickleby  ;  the  money-lender  or  the  ga-a-1 .?  " 
asked  Lord  Frederick. 

"You  take  me,  I  see,"  replied  Sir  Mulberry.  "The  girl, 
of  course." 

"You  promised  me  you'd  find  her  out,"  said  Lord  Fred- 
erick. 

"  So  I  did,"  rejoined  his  friend  ;  "but  I  have  thought  fur- 
ther of  the  matter  since  then.  You  distrust  me  in  the  busi- 
ness— you  shall  find  her  out  yourself." 

"  Na-ay,"  remonstrated  the  other. 

"  But  I  say  yes,"  returned  his  friend.  "You  shall  find 
her  out  yourself.  Don't  think  that  I  mean,  when  you  can — I 
know  as  well  as  you  that  if  I  did,  you  could  never  get  sight  of 
her  without  me.  No.  I  say  you  shall  find  her  out — shall — 
and  I'll  put  you  in  the  way." 

"  Now  curse  me,  if  you  ain't  a  real,  devylish,  downright, 
thorough-paced  friend,"  said  the  young  lord,  on  whom  this 
speech  had  produced  a  most  reviving  effect. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how,"  said  Mulberry.  "  She  was  at  that 
dinner  as  a  bait  for  you." 

"  No  !  "  cried  the  young  lord.     "  What  the  dev " 

"As  a  bait  for  you,"  repeated  his  friend;  "old  Nickleby 
told  me  so  himself." 

>Vhat  a  fine  old  cock  it  is !  "  exclaimed  Lord  Frederick; 
"  a  noble  rascal  !  " 

"Yes,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  "he  knew  she  was  a  smart 
little  creature " 

"  Smart !  "  interposed  the  young  lord.  "  Upon  my  soul. 
Hawk,  she's  a  perfect  beauty — a — a  picture,  a  statue,  a — a — 
upon  my  soul  she  is  !  " 

"Well,"  replied  Sir  Mulberry,  shrugging  his  shoulders 
and  manifesting  an  indifference,  whether  he  felt  it  or  not ; 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  333 

"that's  a  matter  of  taste;  if  mine   doesn't  agree  with  yours, 
so  much  the  better." 

"  Confound  it ! "  reasoned  the  lord,  "  you  were  thick 
enough  with  her  that  day,  anyhow.  I  could  hardly  get  in  a 
word." 

"Well  enough  for  once,  well  enough  for  once,"  replied  Sir 
Mulberry  ;  "  but  not  worth  the  trouble  of  being  agreeable  to 
again.  If  you  seriously  want  to  follow  up  the  niece,  tell  the 
uncle  that  you  must  know  where  she  lives  and  how  she  lives, 
and  with  whom,  or  you  are  no  longer  a  customer  of  his. 
He'll  tell  you  fast  enough." 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  this  before  ?  "  asked  Lord  Frederick, 
"  instead  of  letting  me  go  on  burning,  consuming,  dragging 
out  a  miserable  existence  for  an  a-aa:e  !  " 

"  I  didn't  know  it,  in  the  first  place,"  answered  Sir  Mulberr}'- 
carelessly ;  "  and  in  the  second,  I  didn't  believe  you  were  so 
very  much  in  earnest." 

Now,  the  truth  was,  that  in  the  interval  which  had 
elapsed  since  the  dinner  at  Ralph  Nickleby's,  Sir  Mulberry 
Hawk  had  been  furtively  trying  by  every  means  in  his  power 
to  discover  whence  Kate  had  so  suddenly  appeared,  and 
whither  she  had  disappeared.  Unassisted  by  Ralph,  how- 
ever, with  whom  he  had  held  no  communication  since  their 
angry  parting  on  that  occasion,  all  his  efforts  were  wholly 
unavailing,  and  he  had  therefore  arrived  at  the  determination 
of  communicating  to  the  young  lord  the  substance  of  the  ad- 
mission he  had  gleaned  from  that  worthy.  To  this  he  was 
impelled  by  various  considerations  ;  among  which  the  cer- 
tainty of  knowing  whatever  the  weak  young  man  knew  was 
decidedly  not  the  least,  as  the  desire  of  encountering  the 
usurer's  niece  again,  and  using  his  utmost  arts  to  reduce  her 
pride,  and  revenge  himself  for  her  contempt,  was  uppermost 
in  his  thoughts.  It  was  a  politic  course  of  proceeding,  and 
one  which  could  not  fail  to  redound  to  his  advantage  in  every 
point  of  view,  since  the  very  circumstance  of  his  having  ex- 
torted from  Ralph  Nickleby  his  real  design  in  introducing  his 
niece  to  such  society,  coupled  with  his  extreme  disinterested- 
ness in  communicating  it  so  freely  to  his  friend,  could  not  but 
advance  his  interests  in  that  quarter,  and  greatlv  facilitate  the 
passage  of  coin  (pretty  frequent  and  speedy  alreadv)  from 
the  pockets  of  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht  to  those  of  Sir  Mul- 
berry Hawk. 

Thus   reasoned  Sir  Mulberr}-,  and   in  pursuance  of  this 


3A4 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


reasoning  he  and  his  friend  soon  afterwards  repaired  to  Ralph 
Nickleby's,  there  to  execute  a  plan  of  operations  concerted  by 
Sir  Mulberry  himself,  avowedly  to  promote  his  friend's  object, 
and  really  to  attain  his  own. 

They  found  Ralph  at  home,  and  alone.  As  he  led  them 
into  the  drawing-room,  the  recollection  of  the  scene  which 
had  taken  place  there  seemed  to  occur  to  him,  for  he  cast  a 
curious  look  at  Sir  Mulberry,  who  bestowed  upon  it  no  other 
acknowledgment  than  a  careless  smile. 

They  had  a  short  conference  upon  some  money  matters 
then  in  progress,  which  were  scarcely  disposed  of  when  the 
lordly  dupe  (in  pursuance  of  his  friend's  instructions)  re- 
quested with  some  embarrassment  to  speak  to  Ralph  alone. 

"  Alone,  eh  ? "  cried  Sir  Mulberry,  affecting  surprise. 
"  Oh,  very  good.  I'll  walk  into  the  next  room  here.  Don't 
keep  me  long,  that's  all." 

So  saying,  Sir  Mulberry  took  up  his  hat,  and  humming  a 
fragment  of  a  song  disappeared  through  the  door  of  com- 
munication between  the  two  drawing-rooms,  and  closed  it 
after  him. 

"  Now,  my  lord,"  said  Ralph,  "what  is  it  ?" 

"  Nickleby,"  said  his  client,  throwing  himself  along  the 
sofa  on  which  he  had  been  previously  seated,  so  as  to  bring 
his  lips  nearer  to  the  old  man's  ear,  "  what  a  pretty  creature 
your  niece  is  !  " 

"  Is  she,  my  lord  ?  "  replied  Ralph.  "  Maybe — maybe.  I 
don't  trouble  my  head  with  such  matters." 

"You  know  she's  a  deyv'lish  fine  girl,"  said  the  client. 
"  You  must  know  that,  Nickleby.     Come,  don't  deny  that." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  she  is  considered  so,"  replied  Ralph. 
"  Indeed,  I  know  she  is.  If  I  did  not,  you  are  an  authority 
on  such  points,  and  your  taste,  my  lord — on  all  points,  indeed 
— is  undeniable." 

Nobody  but  the  young  man  to  whom  these  words  were 
addressed  could  have  been  deaf  to  the  sneering  tone  in  which 
they  were  spoken,  or  blind  to  the  look  of  contempt  by  which 
they  were  accompanied.  But  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht  was 
both,  and  took  them  to  be  complimentar}'. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  p'raps  you're  a  little  right,  and  p'raps 
you're  a  little  wrong — a  little  of  both,  Nickleby.  I  want  to 
know  where  this  beauty  lives,  that  I  may  have  another  peep 
at  her,  Nickleby." 

"  Really "  Ralph  began  in  his  usual  tones. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  335 

"  Don't  talk  so  loud,"  cried  the  other,  achieving  the  great 
point  of  his  lesson  to  a  miracle.  "I  don't  want  Hawk  to 
hear." 

"  You  know  he  is  your  rival,  do  you  ?  "  said  Ralph,  look- 
ing sharply  at  him. 

"  He  always  is,  d-a-amn  him,"  replied  the  client ;  "  and  I 
want  to  steal  a  march  upon  him.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  He'll  cut  up 
so  rough,  Nickleby,  at  our  talking  together  without  him. 
Where  does  she  live,  Nickleby,  that's  all  ?  Only  tell  me 
where  she  lives,  Nickleby." 

"  He  bites,"  thought  Ralph.     "  He  bites." 

"  Eh,  Nickleby,  eh  ?  "  pursued  the  client.  "  Where  does 
she  live  .'' " 

"Really,  my  lord,"  said  Ralph,  rubbing  his  hands  slowly 
over  each  other,  "  I  must  think  before  I  tell  you." 

"No,  not  a  bit  of  it,  Nickleby;  you  musn't  think  at  all. 
Where  is  it  ?  " 

"No  good  can  come  of  your  knowing,"  replied  Ralph. 
"  She  has  been  virtuously  and  well  brought  up  \  to  be  sure  she 
is  handsome,  poor,  unprotected  !     Poor  girl,  poor  girl." 

Ralph  ran  over  this  brief  summary  of  Kate's  condition  as 
if  it  were  merely  passing  through  his  own  mind,  and  he  had 
no  intention  to  speak  aloud ;  but  the  shrewd  sly  look  which 
he  directed  at  his  companion  as  he  delivered  it,  gave  this 
poor  assumption  the  lie. 

"  I  tell  you  I  only  want  to  see  her,"  cried  his  client.  "A 
ma-an  may  look  at  a  pretty  woman  without  harm,  mayn't  he  ? 
Now,  where  does  she  live  .''  You  know  you're  making  a  for- 
tune out  of  me,  Nickleby,  and  upon  my  soul  nobody  shall 
ever  take  me  to  anybody  else,  if  you  only  tell  me  this." 

"  As  you  promise  that,  my  lord,"  said  Ralph,  with  feigned 
reluctance,  "  and  as  I  am  most  anxious  to  oblige  you,  and  as 
there's  no  harm  in  it — no  harm — I'll  tell  you.  But  you  had 
better  keep  it  to  yourself,  my  lord  ;  strictly  to  yourself." 
Ralph  pointed  to  the  adjoining  room  as  he  spoke,  and  nodded 
expressively. 

The  young  lord,  feigning  to  be  equally  impressed  with  the 
necessity  of  this  precaution,  Ralph  disclosed  the  present  ad- 
dress and  occupation  of  his  niece,  observing  that  from  what  he 
heard  of  the  family  they  appeared  very  ambitious  to  have 
distinguished  acquaintances,  and  that  a  lord  could,  doubtless, 
introduce  himself  with  great  ease,  if  he  felt  disposed. 

"  Your  object  being  only  to  see  her  again,"  said  Ralph, 
"  you  could  effect  it  at  any  time  you  chose  by  that  means." 


^^6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Lord  Frederick  acknowledged  the  hint  with  a  great  many 
squeezes  of  Ralph's  hard,  horny  hand,  and  whispering  that 
they  would  now  do  well  to  close  the  conversation,  called  to 
Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  that  he  might  come  back. 

"  I  thought  you  had  gone  to  sleep,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  re- 
appearing with  an  ill-tempered  air. 

"  Sorry  to  detain  you,"  replied  the  gull  ;  "  but  Nickleby 
has  been  so  ama-azingly  funny  that  I  couldn't  tear  myself 
away." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  it  was  all  his  lordship.  You 
know  what  a  witty,  humorous,  elegant,  accomplished  man 
Lord  Frederick  is.  Mind  the  step,  my  lord — Sir  Mulberry, 
pray  give  way." 

With  such  courtesies  as  these,  and  many  low  bows,  and 
the  same  cold  ^neer  upon  his  face  all  the  while,  Ralph  busied 
himself  in  showing Tiis  visitors  down  stairs,  and  otherwise  than 
by  the  slightest  possible  motion  about  the  corners  of  his 
mouth,  returned  no  show  of  answer  to  the  look  of  admiration 
with  which  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  seemed  to  compliment  him  on 
being  suQh  an  accomplished  and  most  consummate  scoundrel. 

There"hTid-been-a  ri-ng  at  the  bell  a  few  momenis  before, 
which  was  answered  by  Newman  Noggs  just  as  they  reached 
the  hall.  In  the  ordinary  course  of  business  Newman  would 
have_either  admitted  the  new-comer  in  silence,  or  have  re- 
quested him  or  her  to  stand  aside  whiJe  the  gentlemen  passed 
out.  But  he  no  sooner  saw  who  it  was,  than  as  if  for  some 
private  reason  of  his  own,  he  boldly  departed  from  the  estab- 
lished custom  of  Ralph's  mansion  in  business  hours,  and  look- 
ing towards  the  respectable  trio  who  were  approaching,  cried 
in  a  loud  and  sonorous  voice  :  "  Mrs.  Nickleby  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Nickleby  !  "  cried  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  as  his  friend 
looked  back,  and  stared  him  in  the  face. 

It  was,  indeed,  that  well-intentioned  lady,  who,  having 
received  an  offer  for  the  empty  house  in  the  city  directed  to 
the  landlord,  had  brought  it  post-haste  to  Mr.  Nickleby  with- 
out delay. 

"  Nobody  ji'^w  know,"  said  Ralph.  "  Step  into  the  office, 
my — my — dear.     I'll  be  with  you  directly." 

"  Nobody  I  know !  "  cried  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  advancing 
to  the  astonished  lady.  "  Is  this  Mrs.  Nickleby— the  mother 
of  Miss  Nickleby — the  delightful  creature  that  I  had  the  hap- 
piness of  meeting  in  this  house  the  very  last  time  I  dined 
here  !     But  no  ; "  said  Sir  Mulberry,  stopping  short.     "  No,  it 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  33 A 

can't  be.     There  is  the  same  cast  of  features,  the  same  inde- 
scribable air  of — But  no,  no.     This  lady  is  too  young  for  that." 

"  1  think  you  can  tell  the  gentleman,  brother-m-law,  if  it 
concerns  him  to  know,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  acknowledging 
the  compliment  with  a  graceful  bend,  "  that  Kate  Nickleby  is 
my  daughter." 

"  Her  daughter,  my  lord  !  "  cried  Sir  Mulberry,  turning  to 
his  friend.     "  This  lady's  daughter,  my  lord." 

"My  lord!"  thought  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "Well,  I  never 
did—!  " 

"  This,  then,  my  lord,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  "is  the  lady  to 
whose  obliging  marriage  we  owe  so  much  happiness.  This 
lady  is  the  mother  of  sweet  Miss  Nickleby.  Do  you  observe 
the  extraordinary  likeness,  my  lord  ?  Nickleby — introduce 
us." 

Ralph  did  so,  in  a  kind  of  desperation. 

"  Upon  my  soul,  it's  a  most  delightful  thing,"  said  Lord 
Frederick,  pressing  forward  :  "  How  de  do  ?  " 

Mrs.  Nickleby  was  too  much  flurried  by  these  uncommonly 
kind  salutations,  and  her  regrets  at  not  having  on  her  other 
bonnet,  to  make  any  immediate  reply,  so  she  merely  continued 
to  bend  and  smile,  and  betray  great' agitation. 

"  A — and  how  is  Miss  Nickleby.'"  said  Lord  Frederick. 
"  Well,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  She  is  quite  well,  I'm  obliged  to  you,  my  lord,"  returned 
Mrs.  Nickleby,  recovering.  "  Quite  well.  She  wasn't  well 
for  some  days  after  that  day  she  dined  here,  and  I  can't  help 
thinking,  that  she  caught  cold  in  that  hackney-coach  coming 
home :  Hackney-coaches,  my  lord,  are  such  nasty  things,  that 
it's  ahnost  better  to  walk  at  any  time,  for  although  I  believe  a 
hackney-coachman  can  be  transported  for  life,  if  he  has  a  - 
broken  window,  still  they  are  so  reckless,  that  they  nearly  all 
have  broken  windows.  I  once  had  a  swelled  face  for  six  weeks, 
my  lord,  from  riding  in  a  hackney-coach — I  think  it  was  a  hack- 
ney-coach," said  Mrs.  Nickleby  reflecting,  "  though  Fm  not 
quite  certain,  whether  it  wasn't  a  chariot ;  at  all  events  I 
know  it  was  a  dark  green,  with  a  very  long  number,  beginning 
with  a  nought  and  ending  with  a  nine — no,  beginning  with  a 
nine,  and  ending  with  a  nought,  that  was  it,  and  of  course  the 
stamp-office  people  would  know  at  once  whether  it  was  a 
coach  or  a  chariot  if  any  inquiries  were  made  there — however 
that  was,  there  it  was  with  a  broken  window,  and  there  was  I 
for  six  weeks  with  a  swelled  face — I  think  that  was  the  very 

22 


^,g  NICHOLAS  MICKLEBY. 

same  hackney-coach,  that  we  found  out  afterwards,  had  the  top 
open  all  the  time,  and  we  should  never  even  have  known  it, 
if  they  hadn't  charged  us  a  shilling  an  hour  extra  for  having  it 
open,  which  it  seems  is  the  law,  or  was  then,  and  a  most 
shameful  law  it  appears  to  be — I  don't  understand  the  subject, 
but  I  should  say  the  corn  Laws  could  be  nothing  to  that  act 
of  Parliament." 

Having  pretty  well  run  herself  out  by  this  time,  Mrs.  Nick- 
leby  stopped  as  suddenly  as  she  had  started  off,  and  repeated 
that  Kate  was  quite  well.  "  .  .deed,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
"  I  don't  think  she  ever  was  better,  since  she  had  the  hooping- 
cough,  scarlet-fever  and  measles,  all  at  the  same  time,  and 
that'^s  the  fact." 

"  Is  that  letter  for  me  ?  "  growled  Ralph,  pointing  to  the 
little  packet  Mrs.  Nickleby  held  in  her  hand. 

"  For  you,  brother-in-law,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "and  I 
walked  all  the  way  up  here  on  purpose  to  give  it  you." 

"  All  the  way  up  here  !  "  cried  Sir  Mulberry,  seizing  upon 
the  chance  of  discovering  where  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  come  from. 
"  What  a  confounded  distance  !  How  far  do  you  call  it 
now?  " 

"  How  far  do  I  call  it !  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Let  me 
see.     It's  just  a  mile,  from  our  door  to  the  Old    Bailey." 

"  No,  no.     Not  so  much  as  that,"  urged  Sir  Mulberry. 

"  Oh  !  It  is  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  I  appeal  to 
his  lordship." 

"  I  should  decidedly  say  it  was  a  mile,"  remarked  Lord 
Frederick,  with  a  solemn  aspect. 

"  It  must  be  ;  it  can't  be  a  yard  less,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 
"  All  down  Newgate  Street,  all  down  Cheapside,  all  up  Lom- 
bard Street,  down  Gracechurch  Street,  and  along  Thames 
Street,  as  far  as  Spigwiffin's  Wharf.     Oh  !     It's  a  mile." 

"  Yes,  on  second  thoughts  I  should  say  it  was,"  replied 
•    Sir  Mulberry.     "  But  you   don't  surely  mean  to  walk  all  the 
way  back .''  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Nickleby..  "  I  shall  go  back  in 
an  omnibus.  I  didn't  travel  about  in  omnibuses,  when  my  poor 
dear  Nicholas  was  alive,  brother-in-law.  But  as  it  is,  you 
know — " 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Ralph  impatiently,  "and  you  had 
better  get  back  before  dark." 

"  Thank  you,  brother-in-law,  so  I  had,"  returned  Mrs. 
Nickleby.     "  I  think  I  had  better  say  good-by,  at  once." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  330 

"  Not  stop  and — rest  ?  "  said  Ralph,  who  seldom  offered 
refreshments  unless  something  was  to  be  got  by  it. 

"  Oh  dear  me  no,"  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby,  glancing  at 
the  dial. 

"  Lord  Frederick,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  "  we  are  going  Mrs. 
Nickleby's  way.     We'll  see  her  safe  to  the  omnibus  t " 

"  By  all  means.     Ye-es." 

"  Oh  !  I  really  couldn't  think  of  it !  "  said  Mrs.  Nick- 
leby. 

But  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  and  Lord  Frederick  were  per- 
emptory in  their  politeness,  and  leaving  Ralph,  who  seemed 
to  think,  not  unwisely,  that  he  looked  less  ridiculous  as  a  mere 
spectator,  than  he  would  have  done  if  he  had  taken  any  part 
in  these  proceedings,  they  quitted  the  house  with  Mrs.  Nickleby 
between  them  ;  that  good  lady  in  a  perfect  ecstasy  of  satisfac- 
tion, no  less  with  the  attentions  shown  her  by  two  titled  gen- 
tlemen, than  with  the  conviction  that  Kate  might  now  pick 
and  choose,  at  least  between  two  large  fortunes,  and  most 
unexceptionable  husbands. 

As  she  was  carried  away  for  the  moment  by  an  irresistible 
train  of ■•  thought,  all  connected  with  her  daughter's  future 
greatness.  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  and  his  friend  exchanged 
glances  over  the  top  of  the  bonnet  which  the  poor  lady  so 
much  regretted  not  having  left  at  home,  and  proceeded  to  dilate 
with  great  rapture,  but  much  respect,  on  the  manifold  per^ 
fections  of  Miss  Nickleby. 

"  What  a  delight,  what  a  comfort,  what  a  happiness,  this 
amiable  creature  must  be  to  you,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  throw- 
ing into  his  voice  an  indication  of  the  warmest  feeling. 

"She  is  indeed,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby;  "she  is  the 
sweetest-tempered,  kindest-hearted  creature — and  so  clever  !  " 

"  She  looks  clayver,"  said  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  with 
the  air  of  a  judge  of  cleverness. 

"  I  assure  you  she  is,  my  lord,"  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby. 
"  When  she  was  at  school  in  Devonshire,  she  was  universally 
allowed  to  be  beyond  all  exception  the  very  cleverest  girl  there, 
and  there  were  a  great  many  very  clever  ones  too,  and  that's 
the  truth — twenty-five  young  ladies,  fifty  guineas  a-year  without 
the  et-ceteras,  both  the  Miss  Dowdies,  the  most  accomplished, 
elegant,  fascinating  creatures — Oh  dear  me !  "  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  "  I  never  shall  forget  what  pleasure  she  used  to 
give  me  and  her  poor  dear  papa,  when  she  was  at  that  school, 
never — such  a  delightful  letter  every  half-year,  telling  us  that 


34° 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


she  was  the  first  pupil  in  the  whole  establishment,  and  had 
made  more  progress  than  anybody  else !  I  can  scarcely  bear 
to  think  of  it  even  now.  The  girls  wrote  all  the  letters  them- 
selves," added  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  and  the  writing-master  touched 
them  up  afterwards  with  a  magnifying  glass  and  a  silver  pen  ; 
at  least  I  think  they  wrote  them,  though  Kate  was  never  quite 
certain  about  that,  because  she  didn't  know  the  handwriting 
of  hers  again ;  but  any  way,  I  know  it  was  a  circular  which 
they  all  copied,  and  of  course  it  was  a  very  gratifying  thing — 
very  gratifying." 

With  similar  recollections  Mrs.  Nickleby  beguiled  the 
tediousness  of  the  way,  until  they  reached  the  omnibus,  which 
the  extreme  politeness  of  her  new  friends  would  not  allow 
them  to  leave  until  it  actually  started,  when  they  took  their 
hats,  as  Mrs.  Nickleby  solemnly  assured  her  hearers  on  many 
subsequent  occasions,  "  completely  off,"  and  kissed  their 
straw-colored  kid  gloves  till  they  were  no  longer  visible. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  leant  back  in  the  furthest  corner  of  the 
conveyance,  and,  closing  her  eyes,  resigned  herself  to  a  host 
of  most  pleasing  meditations.  Kate  had  never  said  a  word 
about  having  met  either  of  these  gentlemen  ;  "  tl^at,"  she 
thought,  "  argues  that  she  is  strongly  prepossessed  in  favor 
of  one  of  them."  Then  the  question  arose,  which  one  could 
it  be.  The  lord  was  the  youngest,  and  his  title  was  certainly 
the  grandest ;  still  Kate  was  not  the  girl  to  be  swayed  by  such 
considerations  as  these.  "  I  will  never  put  any  constraint 
upon  her  inclinations,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  to  herself;  "but 
upon  my  word  I  think  there's  no  comparison  between  his 
lordship  and  Sir  Mulberr)'.  Sir  Mulberry  is  such  an  attentive 
gentlemanly  creature,  so  much  manner,  such  a  fine  man,  and 
has  so  much  to  say  for  himself.  I  hope  it's  Sir  Mulberry  ; 
I  think  it  must  be  Sir  Mulberry  !  "  And  then  her  thoughts 
flew  back  to  her  old  predictions,  and  the  number  of  times 
she  had  said,  that  Kate  with  no  fortune  would  marry  better 
than  other  people's  daughters  with  thousands  ;  and,  as  she 
pictured  with  the  brightness  of  a  mother's  fancy  all  the 
beauty  and  grace  of  the  poor  girl  who  had  struggled  so  cheer- 
fully with  her  new  life  of  hardship  and  trial,  her  heart  grew  too 
full,  and  the  tears  trickled  down  her  face. 

Meanwhile,  Ralph  walked  to  and  fro  in  his  little  back 
office,  troubled  in  mind  by  what  had  just  occurred.  To  say 
that  Ralph  loved  or  cared  for — in  the  most  ordinar)'  accepta- 
tion of  those  terms — any  one  of  God's  creatures,  would  be  the 


NICHOLAS  NIC KLEBY.  341 

wildest  fiction.  Still,  there  had  somehow  stolen  upon  him 
from  time  to  time  a  thought  of  his  niece  which  was  tiniied 
witlv-compassion  and  pity  ;  breaking  through  the  dull  cloud 
of  dislike  or  indifference  which  darkened  men  and  women  in 
his  eyes,  there  was,  in  her  case,  the  faintest  gleam  of  light — a 
■most  feeble  and^sjckly  ray  at  the  B"est  of  limes — but  there  it 
was,  and  it  showed  the  poor  girl  in  a  better  and  purer  aspect 
than  any  in  which  he  had  looked  on  human  nature  yet. 

"  I  wish,"  thought  Ralph,  "  I  had  never  done  this.  And 
yet  it  will  keep  this  boy  to  me,  while  there  is  money  to  be 
made.  Selling;^a^irl— throwing  her  in  the  wa}-  of  temjojtation^ 
and  insult,  and  coarse  speech.  Nearly  two  thousand,  pounds 
profit  from  him  already  though.  Pshaw !  match-making 
mothers__daJjie  same  thing  every  day." 

He  sat  down,  and  told  the  chances,  for  and  against,  on 
his  fingers. 

"  If  I  had  not  put  them  in  the  right  track  to-day,"  thought 
Ralph,  "  this  foolish  woman  would  have  done  so.  Well.  If 
her  daughter  is  as  true  to  herself  as  she  should  be  from 
what  I  have  seen,  what  harm  ensues  ?  A  little  teazing,  a  little 
humbling,  a  few_tears.  Yes,"  said  Ralpli,  aloud,  as  lit  locked 
his  iron  sai'e.  "  She  must  take  her  chance.  She  must  take 
her  chance."  ,-^ 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


MRS.  NICKLEBY  BECOMES  ACQUAINTED  WITH  MESSRS.-  PYKE 
AND  PLUCK,  WHOSE  AFFECTION  AND  INTEREST  ARE  BEYOND 
ALL    BOUNDS. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  had  not  felt  so  proud  and  important  for 
many  a  day,  as  when,  on  reaching  home,  she  gave  herself 
wholly  up  to  the  pleasant  visions  which  had  accompanied  her 
on  her  way  thither.  Lady  Mulberry  Hawk — that  was  the 
prevalent  idea.  Lady  Mulberry  Hawk  ! — On  Tuesday  last, 
at  St.  George's,  Hanover-square,  by  the  Right  Reverend  the 
Bishop  of  Llandaff,,  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  of  Mulberry  Castle, 
North  Wales,  to  Catherine,  only  daughter  of  the  late  Nicholas 
Nickleby,  Esquire,  of  Devonshire.  "  Upon  my  word  !  "  cried 
Mrs.  Nicholas  Nickleby,  "  it  sounds  very  well." 

Having  despatched  the  ceremony,  with  its  attendant  fes- 


342  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

tivities,  to  the  perfect  satisfaction  of  her  own  mind,  the  san- 
guine mother  pictured  to  her  imagination  a  long  train  of  honors 
and  distinctions  wliicli  could  not  fail  to  accompany  Kate  in 
her  new  and  brilliant  sphere.  She  would  be  presented  at 
court,  of  course.  On  the  anniversary  of  her  birthday,  which 
was  upon  the  nineteenth  of  July  ("  at  ten  minutes  past  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,"  thought  Mrs.  Nickleby  in  a  paren- 
thesis, "  for  I  recollect  asking  what  o'clock  it  was,")  Sir  Mul- 
berry would  give  a  great  feast  to  all  his  tenants,  and  would 
return  them  three  and  a  half  per  cent,  on  the  amount  of  their 
last  half-year's  rent,  as  would  be  fully  described  and  recorded 
in  the  fashionable  intelligence,  to  the  immeasurable  delight 
and  admiration  of  all  the  readers  thereof.  Kate's  picture, 
too,  would  be  in  at  least  half-a-dozen  of  the  annuals,  and  on 
the  opposite  page  would  appear,  in  delicate  type,  *'  Lines  on 
contemplating  the  Portrait  of  Lady  Mulberry  Hawk.  By  Sir 
Dingleby  Dabber.  Perhaps  some  one  annual,  of  more  com- 
prehensive design  than  its  fellows,  might  even  contain  a  por- 
trait of  the  mother  of  Lady  Mulberry  Hawk,  with  lines  by  the 
father  of  Sir  Dingleby  Dabber.  More  unlikely  things  had 
come  to  pass.  Less  interesting  portraits  had  appear-^d.  As 
this  thought  occurred  to  the  good  lady,  her  countenance  un- 
consciously assumed  that  compound  expression  of  simpering 
and  sleepiness  which,  being  common  to  all  such  portraits,  is 
perhajDS  one  reason  why  they  are  always  so  charming  and 
agreeable. 

With  such  triumphs  of  aerial  architecture  did  Mrs.  Nickle- 
by occupy  the  whole  evening  after  her  accidental  introduction 
to  Ralph's  titled  friends  ;  and  dreams,  no  less  prophetic  and 
equally  promising,  haunted  her  sleep  that  night.  She  was 
preparing  for  her  frugal  dinner  next  day,  still  occupied  with  the 
same  ideas — a  little  softened  down  perhaps  by  sleep  and 
daylight — when  the  girl  who  attended  her  partly  for  company, 
and  partly  to  assist  in  the  household  affairs,  rushed  into  the 
room  in  unwonted  agitation,  and  announced  that  two  gentle- 
men were  waiting  in  the  passage  for  permission  to  walk  up 
stairs. 

"  Bless  my  heart  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  hastily  arranging 
her  cap  and  front,  "  if  it  should  be — dear  me,  standing  in  the 
passage  all  this  time — why  don't  you  go  and  ask  them  to 
walk  up,  you  stupid  thing  }  " 

While  the  girl  was  gone  on  this  errand,  Mrs.  Nickleby 
hastily  swept  into  a  cupboard  all  vestiges  of  eating  and  drink- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  343 

ing  ;  which  she  had  scarcely  done,  and  seated  herself  with 
looks  as  collected  as  she  could  assume,  when  two  gentlemen, 
both  perfect  strangers,  presented  themselves. 

"  How  do  you  do  i  "  said  one  gentleman,  laying  great 
stress  on  the  last  word  of  the  inquiry. 

"  Ho70  do  you  do  ?  "  said  the  other  gentleman,  altering 
the  emphasis,  as  if  to  give  variety  to  the  salutation. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  curtseyed  and  smiled,  and  curtseyed  again, 
and  remarked,  rubbing  her  hands  as  she  did  so,  that  she 
hadn't  the — really — the  honor  to — 

"  To  know  us,"  said  the  first  gentleman.     "  The  loss  has 
been  ours,  Mrs.  Nickleby.     Has  the  loss  been  ours,  Pyke  ?  " 
"  It  has,  Pluck,"  answered  the  other  gentleman. 
"We  have  regretted  it  very  often,  I  believe,  Pyke?"  said 
the  first  gentleman. 

"  Very  often.  Pluck,"  answered  the  second. 
"But  now,"  said  the  first  gentleman,  "now  we  have  the 
happiness  we  have  pined  and  languished  for.     Have  we  pined 
and  languished  for  this  happiness,  Pyke,  or  have  we  not }  " 
"  You  know  we  have.  Pluck,"  said  Pyke,  reproachfully. 
"  Xgu    hear    him,    ma'am  ? "    said    Mr.    Pluck,    looking 
round  ;  "  you  hear  the  unimpeachable  testimony  of  my  friend 
Pyke — that  reminds  me, — formalities,  formalities,  must  not  be 
neglected  in  civilized  society.     Pyke — Mrs.  Nickleby." 
Mr.  Pyke  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  bowed  low. 
"  Whether  I  shall  introduce  myself  with  the  same  formal- 
ity," said  Mr.  Pluck — "whether  I  shall  say  myself  that  my 
name  is  Pluck,  or  whether  1  shall  ask  my  friend  Pyke  (who 
being  now  regularly  introduced,  is  competent  to  the  office)  to 
state  for  me,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  that  my  name  is  Pluck  ;  whether 
I  shall  claim  your  acquaintance  on  the  plain  ground  of  the 
strong  interest   I   take  in  your  welfare,  or  whether  I    shall 
make°  myself  known  to   you   as  the  friend  of   Sir    Mulberry 
Hawk — these,    Mrs.    Nickleby,    are   considerations   which    I 
leave  to  you  to  determine." 

"  Any  friend  of  Sir  Mulberry-  Hawk's  requires  no  better 
introduction  to  me,"  observed  Mrs.  Nickleby,  graciously. 

"  It  is  delightful  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Mr.  Pluck, 
drawing  a  chair  close  to  Mrs.  Nickleby,  and  seating  himself. 
"  It  is  refreshing  to  know  that  you  hold  my  excellent  friend, 
Sir  Mulberry,  in  such  high  esteem.  A  word  in  your  ear,  Mrs. 
Nickleby.  When  Sir  Mulberry  knows  it,  he  will  be  a  happy 
man — I  say,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  a  happy  man.     Pyke,  be  seated." 


344 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


"  My  good  opinion,"  said  Mrs,  Nickleby,  and  the  poor 
lady  exulted  in  the  idea  that  she  was  man'ellously  sly  :  "  my 
good  opinion  can  be  of  very  little  consequence  to  a  gentleman 
like  Sir  Mulberry." 

"  Of  little  consequence  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pluck.  "  Pyke, 
of  what  consequence  to  our  friend,  Sir  Mulberry,  is  the  good 
opinion  of  Mrs.  Nickleby?" 

"Of  what  consequence  .-'  "  echoed  Pyke. 

"Ay,"  repeated  Pluck;  "is  it  of  the  greatest  conse- 
quence ?  " 

"Of  the  very  greatest  consequence,"  replied  Pyke. 

"Mrs.  Nickleby  cannot  be  ignorant,"  said  Mr.  Pluck,  "  of 
the  immense  impression  which  that  sweet  girl  has — " 

"  Pluck  !  "  said  his  friend,  "  beware  !  " 

"  Pyke  is  right,"  muttered  Mr.  Pluck,  after  a  short  pause ; 
"  I  was  not  to  mention  it.  Pyke  is  very  right.  Thank  you, 
Pyke." 

"  Well  now,  really  ! "  thought  Mrs.  Nickleby  within  her- 
self.    "  Such  delicacy  as  that,  I  never  saw  ! " 

Mr.  Pluck,  after  feigning  to  be  in  a  condition  of  great 
embarrassment  for  some  minutes,  resumed  the  conversation 
by  entreating  Mrs.  Nickleby  to  take  no  heed  of  what  tie  had 
inadvertently  said — to  consider  him  imprudent,  rash,  injudi- 
cious. The  only  stipulation  he  would  make  in  his  own  favor 
was,  that  she  should  give  him  credit  for  the  best  intentions. 

"  But  when,"  said  Mr.  Pluck,  "  when  I  see  so  much  sweet- 
ness and  beauty  on  the  one  hand,  and  so  much  ardor  and 
devotion  on  the  other,  I — pardon  me,  Pyke,  I  didn't  intend  to 
resume  that  theme.     Change  the  subject,  Pyke." 

"We  promised  Sir  Mulberry  and  Lord  Frederick,"  said 
Pyke,  "  that  we'd  call  this  morning  and  inquire  whether  you 
took  any  cold  last  night." 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world  last  night,  sir,"  replied  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  "  with  many  thanks  to  his  lordship  and  Sir  Mul- 
berry for  doing  me  the  honor  to  inquire  ;  not  the  least — 
which  is  the  more  singular,  as  I  really  am  very  subject  to  colds, 
indeed — very  subject.  I  had  a  cold  once,"  said  Mrs.  Nickle- 
by, "  I  think  it  was  in  the  year  eighteen  hundred  and  seven- 
teen ;  let  me  see,  four  and  five  are  nine,  and — yes,  eighteen 
hundred  and  seventeen,  that  I  thought  I  never  should  get  rid 
of ;  actually  and  seriously,  that  I  tliought  1  never  should  get 
rid  of.  I  was  only  cured  at  last  by  a  remedy  that  I  don't 
know   whether  you   ever    happened    to   hear  of,  Mr.    Pluck. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY  345 

You  have  a  gallon  of  water  as  hot  as  you  can  possibly  bear 
it,  with  a  pound  of  salt  and  sixpen'orth  of  the  finest  bran, 
and  sit  with  your  head  in  it  for  twenty  minutes  every  night 
just  before  going  to  bed  ;  at  least,  I  don't  mean  your  head — 
your  feet.  It's  a  most  extraordinary  cure — a  most  extraordi- 
nary cure.  I  used  it  for  the  first  time,  I  recollect,  the  day 
after  Christmas  Day,  and  by  the  middle  of  April  following 
the  cold  was  gone.  It  seems  quite  a  miracle  when  you  come 
to  think  of  it,  for  I  had  it  ever  since  the  beginning  of  Sep 
tember." 

"  What  an  afflicting  calamity  !  "  said  Mr.  Pyke. 

"  Perfectly  horrid  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pluck. 

"  But  it's  worth  the  pain  of  hearing,  only  to  know  that 
Mrs.  Nickleby  recovered  it,  isn't  it,  Pluck  .? "  cried  Mr.  Pyke. 

"  That  is  the  circumstance  which  gives  it  such  a  thrilling 
interest,"  replied  Mr.  Pluck. 

"  But  come,"  said  Pyke,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting  him- 
self ;  "  we  must  not  forget  our  mission  in  the  pleasure  of  this 
interview.     We  come  on  a  mission,  Mrs.  Nickleby." 

"  On  a  mission,"  exclaimed  that  good  lady,  to  whose  mind 
a  defiii^tive  proposal  of  marriage  for  Kate  at  once  presented 
itself  in  lively  colors. 

"  From  Sir  Mulberry,  replied  Pyke.  "  You  must  be  very 
dull  here." 

"  Rather  dull,  I  confess,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  We  bring  the  compliments  of  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  and  a 
thousand  entreaties  that  you'll  take  a  seat  in  a  private  box  at 
the  play  to-night,"  said  Mr.  Pluck. 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  I  never  go  out  at  all, 
never." 

"  And  that  is  the  very  reason,  my  dear  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
why  you  should  go  out  to-night,"  retorted  Mr.  Pluck.  *•  Pyke, 
entreat  Mrs.  Nickleby." 

"  Oh,  pray  do,"  said  Pyke. 

"  You  positively  must,"  urged  Pluck. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  hesitating ; 
."  but—" 

"  There's  not  a  but  in  the  case,  my  dear  Mrs.  Nickleby,''' 
remonstrated  Mr.  Pluck  ;  "  not  such  a  word  in  the  A'ocabulary. 
Your  brother-in-law  joins  us,  Lord  Frederick  joins  us,  Sir 
Mulberry  joins  us,  Pvke  joins  us — a  refusal  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. Sir  Mulberry  sends  a  carriage  for  you — twenty  minutes 
before  seven  to  the  moment — you'll  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  dis- 
appoint the  whole  party,  Mrs.  Nickleby  ?  " 


346  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  You  are  so  very  pressing,  that  I  scarcely  know  what  to 
say,"  replied  the  worthy  lady. 

"  Say  nothing ;  not  a  word,  not  a  word,  my  dearest 
madam,"  urged  Mr.  Pluck.  "  Mrs.  Nickleby,"  said  that  ex- 
cellent gentleman,  lowering  his  voice,  "  there  is  the  most 
trifling,  the  most  excusable  breach  of  confidence  in  what  I 
am  about  to  say  ;  and  yet  if  my  friend  Pyke  there  overheard 
it — such  is  that  man's  delicate  sense  of  honor,  Mrs.  Nickleby 
— he'd  have  me  out  before  dinner-time." 

"  Mrs.  Nickleby  cast  an  apprehensive  glance  at  the  war- 
like Pyke,  who  had  walked  to  the  window  ;  and  Mr.  Pluck, 
squeezing  her  hand,  went  on  : 

"  Your  daughter  has  made  a  conquest  on  which  I  may 
congratulate  you.  Sir  Mulberry,  my  dear  ma'am.  Sir  Mul- 
berry is  her  devoted  slave.     Hem!  " 

"  Hah  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pyke,  at  this  juncture,  snatching  some- 
thing from  the  chimney-piece  with  a  theatrical  air.  "  What 
is  this  !  what  do  I  beho'ld  !  " 

"  What  do  you  behold,  my  dear  fellow  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Pluck. 

"  It  is  the  face,  the  countenance,  the  expression,"  cried 
Mr.  Pyke,  falling  into  his  chair  with  a  miniature  in  his  hand ; 
"  feebly  portrayed,  imperfectly  caught,  but  still  the  face,  the 
countenance,  the  expression." 

"  I  recognize  it  at  this  distance  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pluck, 
in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm.  "  Is  it  not,  my  dear  madam,  the  faint 
similitude  of — " 

"  It  is  my  daughter's  portrait,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with 
great  pride.  And  so  it  was.  And  little  Miss  La  Creevy  had 
brought  it  home  for  inspection  only  two  nights  before. 

Mr.  Pyke  no  sooner  ascertained  that  he  was  quite  right  in 
his  conjecture,  than  he  launched  into  the  most  extravagant 
encomiums  of  the  divine  original  ;  and  in  the  warmth  of  his 
enthusiasm  kissed  the  picture  a  thousand  times,  while  Mr. 
Pluck  pressed  Mrs.  Nickleby 's  hand  to  his  heart,  and  con- 
gratulated her  on  the  possession  of  such  a  daughter,  with  so 
much  earnestness  and  affection,  that  the  tears  stood,  or 
seemed  to  stand,  in  his  eyes.  Poor  Mrs.  Nickleb}',  who  haci^ 
listened  in  a  state  of  enviable  complacenc}^  at  first,  became  at 
length  quite  overpowered  by  these  tokens  of  regard  for,  and 
attachment  to,  the  family  ;  and  even  the  servant  girl,  who  had 
peeped  in  at  the  door,  remained  rooted  to  the  spot,  in  aston- 
ishment at  the  ecstasies  of  the  two  friendly  visitors. 

By  degrees  these  raptures  subsided,  and  Mrs.  Nickleby  went 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  347 

i. 
on  to  entertain  her  guests  with  a  lament  over  her  fallen  for- 
tunes, and  a  picturesque  account  of  her  old  house  in  the  coun- 
try ;  comprising  a  full  description  of  the  different  apartments, 
not  forgetUng  the  little  store-room,  and  a  lively  recollection  of 
how  many  steps  you  went  down  to  get  into  the  garden,  and 
which  way  you  turned  when  you  came  out  at  the  parlor-door, 
and  what  capital  fixtures  there  were  in  the  kitchen.  This  last 
reflection  naturally  conducted  her  into  the  wash-house,  where 
she  stumbled  upon  the  brewing  utensils,  among  which  she 
might  have  wandered  for  an  hour,  if  the  mere  mention  of 
those  implements  had  not,  by  an  association  of  ideas,  in- 
stantly reminded  Mr.  Pyke  that  he  was  "  amazing  thirsty." 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Mr.  Pyke  ;  "  if  you'll  send 
round  to  the  public-house  for  a  pot  of  mild  half-and-half,  pos- 
itively and  actually  I'll  drink  it." 

And  positively  and  actually  Mr.  Pyke  did  drink  it,  and 
Mr.  Pluck  helped  him,  while  Mrs.  Nickleby  looked  on  in  di- 
vided admiration  of  the  condescension  of  the  two,  and  the  ap- 
titude with  which  they  accommodated  themselves  to  the  pew- 
ter-pot ;  in  explanation  of  which  seeming  marvel  it  may  be 
here  observed,  that  gentlemen  who,  like  Messrs.  Pyke  and 
Pluck,  live  upon  their  wits  (or  not  so  much,  perhaps,  upon 
the  presence  of  their  own  wits  as  upon  the  absence  of  wits  in 
other  people)  are  occasionally  reduced  to  very  narrow  shifts 
and  straits,  and  are  at  such  periods  accustomed  to  regale 
themselves  in  a  very  simple  and  primitive  manner. 

"At  twenty  minutes  before  seven,  then,"  said  Mr.  Pyke, 
rising,  "  the  coach  will  be  here.  One  more  look — one  little 
look — at  that  sweet  face.  Ah !  here  it  is.  Unmoved,  un- 
changed !  "  This  by  the  way  was  a  very  remarkable  circum- 
stance, miniatures  being  liable  to  so  many  changes  of  expres- 
sion.    "  Oh,  Pluck  !  Pluck  !  " 

Mr.  Pluck  made  no  other  reply  than  kissing  Mrs.  Nick- 
leby's  hand  with   a  great  show  of  feeling  and  attachment  ; 
Mr.  Pyke  having  done  the  same,  both  gentlemen  hastily  with-       ^ 
drew.  ^ 

^       Mrs.  Nickleby  was  commonly  in  the  habit  of  giving  herself  ^ 

credit  for  a  pretty  tolerable  share  of  penetration  and  acute- 
ness,  but  she  had  never  felt  so  satisfied  with  her  own  sharp- 
sightedness  as  she  did  that  day.  She  had  found  it  all  out 
the  night  before.  She  had  never  seen  Sir  Mulberry  and 
Kate  together — never  even  heard  Sir  Mulbeny's  name — and 
yet  hadn't  she  said  to  herself  from  the  veiy  first,  that  she 


348  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y 

saw  how  the  case  stood  ?  and  what  a  triumpli  it  was,  for 
there  was  now  no  doubt  about  it.  If  these  flattering  atten- 
tions to  herself  were  not  sufficient  proofs,  Sir  Mulberry's  con- 
fidential friend  had  suffered  the  secret  to-  escape  him  in  so 
many  words.  "  I  am  quite  in  love  with  that  dear  Mr.  Pluck, 
I  declare  I  am,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

There  was  one  great  source  of  uneasiness  in  the  midst  of 
this  good  fortune,  and  that  was  the  having  nobody  by,  to 
whom  she  could  confide  it.  Once  or  twice  she  almost  resolved 
to  walk  straight  to  Miss  La  Creevy's  and  tell  it  all  to  her. 
"  But  I  don't  know,"  thought  Mrs.  Nickleby ;  "  she  is  a  very 
worthy  person,  but  I  am  afraid  too  much  beneath  Sir  Mul- 
berry's station  for  us  to  make  a  companion  of.  Poor  thing !  " 
Acting  upon  this  grave  consideration  she  rejected  the  idea  of 
taking  the  little  portrait-painter  into  her  confidence,  and  con- 
tented herself  with  holding  out  sundry  vague  and  mysterious 
hopes  of  preferment  to  the  servant-girl,  who  received  these 
obscure  hints  of  dawning  greatness  with  much  veneration  and 
respect. 

Punctual  to  its  time  came  the  promised  vehicle,  which  was 
no  hackney  coach,  but  a  private  chariot,  having  behind  it  a 
footman,  whose  legs,  although  somewhat  large  for  his  body, 
might,  as  mere  abstract  legs,  have  set  themselves  up  for 
models  at  the  Royal  Academy.  It  was  quite  exhilarating  to 
hear  the  clash  and  bustle  with  which  he  banged  the  door  and 
jumped  up  behind  after  Mrs.  Nickleby  was  in  ;  and  as  that 
good  lady  was  perfectly  unconscious  that  he  applied  the  gold- 
headed  end  of  his  long  stick  to  his  nose,  and  so  telegraphed 
most  disrespectfully  to  the  coachman  over  her  very  head,  she 
sat  in  a  state  of  much  stiffness  and  dignity,  not  a  little  proud 
of  her  position. 

At  the  theatre  entrance  there  was  more  banging  and  more 
bustle,  and  there  were  also  Messrs.  Pyke  and  Pluck  waiting 
to  escort  her  to  her  box  ;  and  so  polite  were  they  that  Mr. 
Pyke  threatened  with  many  oaths  to  "  smifligate  "  a  very  old 
man  with  a  lantern  who  accidentally  stumbled  in  her  way 
— to  the  great  terror  of  Mrs.  Nickleby,  who,  conjecturing^^ 
more  from  Mr.  Pyke's  excitement  than  any  previous  acquaint-  ■ 
ance  with  the  etymology  of  the  word  that  smilligation  and 
bloodshed  must  be  in  the  main  one  and  the  same  thing,  was 
alarmed  beyond  expression,  lest  something  should  occur. 
Fortunately,  however,  Mr.  Pyke  confined  himself  to  mere 
verbal  smilligation,  and  they  reached  their  box  with  no  more 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEBY.  34CJ 

serious  interruption  by  the  way,  than  a  desire  on  the  part  of 
the  same  pugnacious  gentleman  to  "smash  "  the  assistant  box- 
keeper  for  happening  to  mistake  the  number. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  had  scarcely  been  put  away  behind  the 
curtain  of  the  box  in  an  arm  chair,  when  Sir  Mulberry  and 
Lord  Frederick  Verisopht  arrived,  arrayed  from  the  crowns 
of  their  heads  to  the  tips  of  their  gloves,  and  from  the  tips  of 
their  gloves  to  the  toes  of  their  boots,  in  the  most  elegant  and 
costly  manner.  Sir  Mulberry  was  a  little  hoarser  than  on  the 
previous  day,  and  Lord  Frederick  looked  rather  sleepy  and 
queer  :  from  which  tokens,  as  well  as  from  the  circumstance 
of  their  both  being  to  a  trifling  extent  unsteady  on  their  legs, 
Mrs.  Nickleby  justly  concluded  that  they  had  taken  dinner. 

"  We  have  been — we  have  been — toasting  your  lovely 
daughter,  Mrs.  Nickleby,"  whispered  Sir  Mulberr}^,  sitting 
down  behind  her. 

"  Oh,  ho  !  "  thought  that  knowing  lady  ;  "  wine  in,  truth 
out. — You  are  very  kind.  Sir  Mulberry." 

"  No,  no,  upon  my  soul  !  "  replied  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk. 
"  It's  you  that's  kind,  upon  my  soul  it  is.  It  was  so  kind  of 
you  to  come  to-night." 

"  So  very  kind  of  you  to  invite  me,  you  mean.  Sir  Mulberry," 
replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  tossing  her  head,  and  looking  pro- 
digiously sly. 

"  I  am  so  anxious  to  know  you,  so  anxious  to  cultivate 
your  good  opinion,  so  desirous  that  there  should  be  a  delicious 
kind  of  harmonious  family  understanding  between  us,"  said 
Sir  Mulberry,  "  that  you  mustn't  think  I'm  disinterested  in 
what  I  do.     I'm  infernal  selfish  ;  I  am — upon  my  soul  I  am." 

"lam  sure  you  can't  be  selfish.  Sir  Mulberr}^"  replied 
Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  You  have  much  too  open  and  generous  a 
countenance  for  that." 

"  What  an  extraordinary  observer  you  are  !  "  said  Sir 
Mulberry  Hawk. 

"Oh  no,  indeed,  I  don't  see  very  far  into  things.  Sir 
Mulberr}',"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  in  a  tone  of  voice  which 
heft  the  baronet  to  infer  that  she  saw  very  far  indeed. 

"  I  am  quite  afraid  of  you,"  said  the  baronet.  "  Upon  my 
soul,"  repeated  Sir  Mulberry,  looking  round  to  his  compan- 
ions ;  "  I  am  afraid  of  Mrs.  Nickleby.  She  is  so  immensely 
sharp." 

Messrs.  Pyke  and  Pluck  shook  their  heads  mysteriously, 
and  observed  together  that  they  had  found  that  out  long  ago  ; 


3 5  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

upon  which  Mrs.  Nickleby  tittered,  and  Sir  Mulberry  laughed, 
and  Pyke  and  Pluck  roared. 

*•  But  Where's  my  brother-in-law.  Sir  Mulberry?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  I  shouldn't  be  here  without  him.  I  hope 
he's  coming." 

"  Pyke,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  taking  out  his  toothpick  and 
lolling  back  in  his  chair,  as  if  he  were  too  lazy  to  invent  a 
reply  to  this  question.     "  Where's  Ralph  Nickleby  ?  " 

"  Pluck,"  said  Pyke,  imitating  the  baronet's  action,  and 
turning  the  lie  over  to  his  friend,  "where's  Ralph  Nickleby  ?  " 

Mr.  Pluck  was  about  to  return  some  evasive  reply,  when 
the  bustle  caused  by  a  party  entering  the  next  box  seemed  to 
attract  the  attention  of  all  four  gentlemen,  who  exchanged 
glances  of  much  meaning.  The  new  party  beginning  to  con- 
verse together.  Sir  Mulberry  suddenly  assumed  the  character 
of  a  most  attentive  listener,  and  implored  his  friends  not  to 
breathe — not  to  breathe. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.     "  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  "  replied  Sir  Mulbeny,  laying  his  hand  on  her 
arm.  "  Lord  Frederick,  do  you  recognize  the  tones  of  that 
voice  ?  " 

"  Deyvle  take  me  if  I  didn't  think  it  was  the  voice  of  Miss 
Nickleby." 

"  Lor,  my  lord  !  "  cried  Miss  Nickleby's  mamma,  thrusting 
her  head  round  the  curtain.  ''  Why  actually — Kate,  my  dear, 
Kate." 

"  Yo?/  here,  mamma  !     Is  it  possible  !  " 

"  Possible,  my  dear.-*     Yes." 

"  Why  who — who  on  earth  is  that  you  have  with  you, 
mamma  ?  "  said  Kate,  shrinking  back  as  she  caught  sight  of  a 
man  smiling  and  kissing  his  hand. 

"  Who  do  you  suppose,  my  dear  ?  "  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
bending  towards  Mrs.  Wititterly,  and  speaking  a  little  louder 
for  that  lady's  edification.  "  There's  Mr.  Pyke,  Mr.  Pluck,  Sir 
Mulberry  Hawk,  and  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht." 

"Gracious  Heaven!"  thought  Kate  hurriedly.  "How 
comes  she  in  such  society  !  " 

Now,  Kate  thought  thus  so  hurriedly,  and  the  surprise  was 
so  great,  and  moreover  brought  back  so  forcibly  the  recollec- 
tion of  what  had  passed  at  Ralph's  delectable  dinner,  that  she 
turned  extremely  pale  and  appeared  greatly  agitated,  which 
symptoms  being  observed  by  Mrs.  Nickleby,  were  at  once 
set  down  by  that  acute  lady  as  being  caused  and  occasioned 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  35 1 

by  violent  love.  But,  although  she  was  in  no  small  degree 
delighted  by  this  discovery  which  reflected  so  much  credit  on 
her  own  quickness  of  perception,  it  did  not  lessen  her  motherly 
anxiety  in  Kate's  behalf  ;  and  accordingly,  with  a  vast  quantity 
of  trepidation,  she  quitted  her  own  box  to  hasten  into  that  of 
Mrs.  Wititterly.  Mrs.  Wititterly,  keenly  alive  to  the  glory  of 
having  a  lord  and  a  baronet  among  her  visiting  acquaintance, 
lost  no  time  in  signing  to  Mr.  Wititterly  to  open  the  door,  and 
thus  it  was  that  in  less  than  thirty  seconds  Mrs.  Nickleby's 
party  had  made  an  irruption  into  Mrs.  Wititterly's  box,  which 
it  filled  to  the  very  door,  there  being  in  fact  only  room  for 
Messrs.  Fyke  and  Pluck  to  get  in  their  heads  and  waistcoats. 

"  My  dear  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  kissing  her  daughter 
affectionately.  "  How  ill  you  looked  a  moment  ago  !  You 
quite  frightened  me,  I  declare  !  " 

"  It  was  mere  fancy,  mamma— the — the — reflection  of  the 
lights  perhaps,"  replied  Kate,  glancing  nervously  round,  and 
finding  it  impossible  to  whisper  any  caution  or  explanation. 
"  Don't  you  see  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  my  dear  ? " 
Kate  bowed  slightly,  and  biting  her  lip  turned  her  head 
towards  the  stage. 

But  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  was  not  to  be  so  easily  repulsed, 
for  he  advanced  with  extended  hand ;  and  Mrs.  Nickleby 
officiously  informing  Kate  of  this  circumstance,  she  was 
obliged  to  extend  her  own.  Sir  Mulberry  detained  it  while 
he  murmured  a  profusion  of  compliments,  which  Kate,  remem- 
bering what  had  passed  between  them,  rightly  considered  as 
so  many  aggravations  of  the  insult  he  had  already  put  upon 
her.  Then  followed  the  recognition  of  Lord  Frederick  Veri- 
sopht,  and  then  the  greeting  of  Mr.  Pyke,  and  then  that  of  Mr. 
Pluck,  and  finally,  to  complete  the  young  lady's  mortification, 
she  was  compelled  at  Mrs.  Wititterly's  request  to  perform 
the  ceremony  of  introducing  the  odious  persons,  whom  she 
regarded  with  the  utmost  indignation  and  abhorrence. 

"  Mrs.  Wititterly  is  delighted,"  said  Mr.  Wititterly,  rubbing 
his  hands  ;  "  delighted,  my  lord,  I  am  sure,  with  this  oppor- 
tunity of  contracting  an  acquaintance  which,  I  trust,  my  lord, 
we  shall  improve.  Julia,  my  dear,  you  must  not  allow  your- 
self to  be  too  much  excited,  you  must  not.  Indeed  you  must 
not.  Mrs.  Wititterly  is  of  a  most  excitable  nature.  Sir  Mul- 
berry. The  snuff  of  a  candle,  the  wick  of  a  lamp,  the  bloom 
of  a  peach,  the  down  on  a  butterfly.  You  might  blow  her 
away,  my  lord ;  you  might  blow  her  away." 


352  NICHOLAS  NTCKLEBY. 

Sir  Mulberry  seemed  to  think  that  it  would  be  a  great 
convenience  if  the  lady  could  be  blown  away.  He  said,  how- 
ever, that  the  delight  was  mutual,  and  Lord  Frederick  added 
that  it  was  mutual,  whereupon  Messrs.  Pike  and  Pluck  were 
heard  to  murmur  from  the  distance  that  it  was  very  mutual 
indeed. 

"  I  take-  an  interest,  my  lord,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  with 
a  faint  smile,  "  such  an  interest  in  the  drama." 

"Ye — es.     It's  very  interesting,"  replied  Lord  Frederick. 

"  I'm  always  ill  after  Shakspeare,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly. 
"  I  scarcely  exist  the  next  day ;  I  find  the  re-action  so  very 
great  after  a  tragedy,  my  lord,  and  Shakspeare  is  such  a  deli- 
cious creature." 

"  Ye — es  !  "  replied  Lord  Frederick.  "  He  was  a  clayver 
man." 

"  Do  you  know,  my  lord,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  after  a 
long  silence,  "  I  find  I  take  so  much  more  interest  in  his  plays, 
after  having  been  to  that  dear  little  dull  house  he  was  born 
in  !     Were  you  ever  there,  my  lord  ? " 

"  No,  nayver,"  replied  my  lord. 

"  Then  really  you  ought  to  go,  my  lord,"  returned  Mrs. 
Wititterly,  in  very  languid  and  drawling  accents.  "  I  don't 
know  how  it  is,  but  after  you've  seen  the  place  and  written 
your  name  in  the  little  book,  somehow  or  other  you  seem  to 
be  inspired ;  it  kindles  up  quite  a  fire  within  one." 

"  Ye — es  !  "  replied  Lord  Frederick,  "  I  shall  certainly  go 
there." 

"Julia,  my  life,"  interposed  Mr.  Wititterly,  "you  are  de- 
ceiving his  lordship — unintentionally,  my  lord,  she  is  deceiving 
you.  It  is  your  poetical  temperament,  my  dear — 3-our  ethereal 
soul — your  fervid  imagination,  which  throws  you  into  a  glow 
of  genius  and  excitement.  There  is  nothing  in  the  place,  my 
dear — nothing,  nothing." 

"  I  think  there  must  be  something  in  the  place,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  who  had  been  listening  in  silence  ;  "for,  soon  after 
I  was  married,  I  went  to  Stratford  with  my  poor  dear  Mr, 
Nickleby,  in  a  post-chaise  from  Birmingham — was  it  a  jDOSt^ 
chaise  though  !"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  considering;  "yes,  it 
must  have  been  a  post-chaise,  because  I  recollect  remarking 
at  the  time  that  the  driver  had  a  green  shade  over  his  left 
eye  ; — in  a  post-chaise  from  Birmingham,  and  after  we  had 
seen  Shakspeare's  tomb  and  birth-place,  we  went  back  to  the 
inn  there,  where  we  slept  that  night,  and  I  recollect  that  all 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY  3^3 

night  long  I  dreamt  of  nothing  but  a  black  gentleman,  at  full 
length,  in  plaster-of-Paris,  with  a  lay  down  collar  tied  with 
two  tassels,  leaning  against  a  post  and  thinking  ;  and  when  I 
woke  in  the  morning  and  described  him  to  Mr.  Nickleby,  he 
said  it  was  Shakspeare  just  as  he  had  been  when  he  was 
alive,  which  was  very  curious  indeed.  Stratford — Stratford,'' 
continued  Mrs.  Nickleby,  considering.  "  Yes,  I  am  positive 
about  that,  because  1  recollect  I  was  in  the  family  way  with 
my  son  Nicholas  at  the  time,  and  I  had  been  very  much 
frightened  by  an  Italian  image  boy  that  very  morning.  In 
fact,  it  was  quite  a  mercy,  ma'am,"  added  Mrs.  Nickleby,  in  a 
whisper  to  Mrs.  Wititterly,  "  that  my  son  didn't  turn  out  to 
be  a  Shakspeare,  and  what  a  dreadful  thing  that  would  have 
been  !  " 

When  Mrs.  Nickleby,  had  brought  this  interesting  anec- 
dote to  a  close,  Pyke  and  Pluck,  ever  zealous'  in  their  patron's 
cause,  proposed  the  adjournment  of  a  detachment  of  the 
party  into  the  next  box  ;  and  with  so  much  skill  were  the 
preliminaries  adjusted,  that  Kate,  despite  all  she  could  say  or 
do  to  the  contrary,  had  no  alternative  but  to  suffer  herself  to 
be  led  away  by  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk.  Her  mother  and  Mr. 
Pluck  accompanied  them,  but  the  worthy  lady,  pluming  herself 
upon  her  discretion,  took  particular  care  not  so  much  as  to 
look  at  her  daughter  during  the  whole  evening,  and  to  seem 
wholly  absorbed  m  the  jokes  and  conversation  of  Mr.  Pluck, 
who,  having  been  appointed  sentry  over  Mrs.  Nickleby  for 
that  especial  purpose,  neglected,  on  his  side,  no  possible  op- 
portunity of  engrossing  her  attention. 

Lord  Frederick  Verisopht  remained  in  the  next  box  to  be 
talked  to  by  Mrs.  Wititterly,  and  Mr.  Pyke  was  in  attendance 
to  throw  in  a  word  or  two  when  necessary.  As  to  Mr.  Witit- 
terly, he  was  sufficiently  busy  in  the  body  of  the  house,  in- 
forming such  of  his  friends  and  acquaintance  as  happened  to 
be  there,  that  those  two  gentlemen  up  stairs,  whom  they  had 
seen  in  conversation  with  Mrs.  W.,  were  the  distinguished 
Lord   Frederick  Verisopht   and  his   most  intimate   friend,  the 

fy  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk — a  communication  which  inflamed 
reral  respectable  house-keepers  with  the  utmost  jealousy 
and  rage,  and  reduced  sixteen  unmarried  daughters  to  the 
very  brink  of  despair. 

The  evening  came  to.  an  end  at  last,  but  Kate  had  vet  to 
be  handed  down  stairs  by  the  detested  Sir  Mulberrv  ;  and  so 
skilfully  were  the  manoeuvres   of    Messrs.   Pyke  and  Pluck 


354 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


conducted,  that  she  and  the  baronet  were  the  last  of  the  party, 
and  were  even — without  an  appearance  of  effort  or  design — 
left  at  some  little  distance  behind. 

"  Don't  hurry,  don't  hurry,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  as  Kate 
hastened  on,  and  attempted  to  release  her  arm. 

She  made  no  reply,  but  still  pressed  forward. 

"  Nay,  then — "  coolly  observed  Sir  Mulberr)',  stopping  her 
outright. 

"  You  had  best  not  seek  to  detain  me,  sir  ! "  said  Kate, 
angrily. 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  retorted  Sir  Mulberry.  "  My  dear 
creature,  now  why  do  you  keep  up  this  show  of  displeas- 
ure >.  " 

'■'■Sho7o/"  repeated  Kate,  indignantly.  "  How  dare  you 
presume  to  speak  to  me,  sir — to  address  me — to  come  into 
my  presence  ?  " 

"You  look  prettier  in  a  passion,  Miss  Nickleby,"  said 
Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  stooping  down,  the  better  to  see  her 
face. 

"  I  hold  you  in  the  bitterest  detestation  and  contempt, 
sir,"  said  Kate.  "  If  you  find  any  attraction  in  looks  of  dis- 
gust and  aversion,  you — let  me  rejoin  my  friends  sir,  in- 
stantly. Whatever  considerations  may  have  withheld  me  thus 
far,  I  will  disregard  them  all,  and  take  a  course  that  even 
you  might  feel,  if  you  do  not  immediately  suffer  me  to  pro- 
ceed." 

Sir  Mulberry  smiled,  and  still  looking  in  her  face  and  re- 
taining her  arm,  walked  towards  the  door. 

"  If  no  regard  for  my  sex  or  helpless  situation  will  induce 
you  to  desist  from  this  coarse  and  unmanly  persecution," 
said  Kate,  scarcely  knowing,  in  the  tumult  of  her  passions, 
what  she  said,  "  I  have  a  brother  who  will  resent  it  dearly, 
one  day." 

"  Upon  my  soul  !  "  exclaimed  Sir  Mulberry,  as  though 
quietly  communing  with  himself,  and  passing  his  arm  round 
her  waist  as  he  spoke,  "  she  looks  more  beautiful,  and  I  like 
her  better,  in  this  mood,  than  when  her  eyes  are  cast  down, 
and  she  is  in  perfect  repose  !  " 

How  Kate  reached  the  lobby  where  her  friends  M'ere 
waiting  she  never  knew,  but  she  hurried  a(::fross  it  without  at 
all  regarding  them,  and  disengaged  Jierself  suddenly  from  her 
companion,  sprang  into  the  coach,  and  throwing  herself  into 
its  darkest  corner  burst  into  tears. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y  355 

Messrs.  Pike  and  Pluck,  knowing  their  cue,  at  once  threw 
the  party  into  great  commotion  by  shouting  for  the  carriages, 
and  getting  up  a  violent  quarrel  with  sundry  inoffensive  by- 
standers  ;  in  the  midst  of  which  tumult  they  put  the  affrighted 
Mrs.  Nicideby  in  her  chariot,  and  having  got  her  safely  off, 
turned  their  thoughts  to  Mrs.  VVititterly,  whose  attention  also 
they  had  now  effectually  distracted  from  the  young  lady,  by 
throwing  her  into  a  state  of  the  utmost  bewilderment  and 
consternation.  At  length,  the  conveyance  in  which  she  had 
come  rolled  off  too  with  its  load,  and  the  four  worthies,  being 
left  alone  under  the  portico,  enjoyed  a  hearty  laugh  together. 

"There,"  said  Sir  -Mulberry,  turning  to  his  noble  friend. 
"  Didn't  I  tell  you  last  night  that  if  we  could  find  where  they 
were  going  by  bribing  a  servant  through  my  fellow,  and  then 
established  ourselves  close  by  with  the  mother,  these  people's 
house  would  be  our  own  .?  Why  here  it  is,  done  in  four-and- 
twenty  hours." 

"  Ye-es,"  replied  the  dupe.  "  But  I  have  been  tied  to  the 
old  woman  all  ni-ight." 

"  Hear  him  !  "  said  Sir  Mulberry,  turning  to  his  two  friends. 
"  Hear  this  discontented  grumbler.  Isn't  it  enough  to  make 
a  man  swear  never  to  help  him  in  his  plots  and  schemes  again  ? 
Isn't  it  an  infernal  shame  .-'  " 

Pyke  asked  Pluck  whether  it  was  not  an  infernal  shame, 
and  Pluck  asked  Pyke  ;  but  neither  answered. 

"  Isn't  it  the  truth  ?  "  demanded  Frederick  Verisopht. 
"  Wasn't  it  so  ?  " 

"  Wasn't  it  so  !  "  repeated  Sir  Mulberry.  "  How  would 
you  have  had  it  ?  How  could  we  have  got  a  general  invitation 
at  first  sight — come  when  you  like,  go  when  you  like,  stop  as 
long  as  you  like,  do  what  you  like — if  you,  the  lord,  had  not 
made  yourself  agreeable  to  the  foolish  mistress  of  the  house  ? 
Do  I  care  for  this  girl,  except  as  your  friend  ?  Haven't  I 
been  sounding  your  praises  in  her  ears,  and  bearing  her  pretty 
sulks  and  peevishness  all  night  for  you  ?  What  sort  of  stuff 
do  you  think  I'm  made  of?  Would  1  do  this  for  every  man  .■* 
Don't  I  deserve  even  gratitude  in  return  ?  " 

"  You're  a  deyvlish  good  fellow,"  said  the  poor  young  lord, 
taking  his  friend's  arni.  "  Upon  my  life,  you're  a  dey\lish 
good  fellow,  Hawk." 

"And  I  have  done  right,  have  I  ?"  demanded  Sir  Mul 
berry. 

"Quite  ri-ght." 


356  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  And  like  a  poor,  silly,  good-natured,  friendly  dog  as  I 
am,  eh  ?  " 

"  Ye-es,  ye-es  ;  like  a  friend,"  replied  the  other. 

"  Well  then,"  replied  Sir  Mulberr}',  "  I'm  satisfied.  And 
now  let's  go  and  have  our  revenge  on  the  German  baron  and 
the  Frenchman,  who  cleaned  you  out  so  handsomely  last 
night." 

With  these  words  the  friendly  creature  took  his  com- 
panion's arm  and  led  him  away:  turning  half  round  as  he  did 
so,  and  bestowing  a  wink  and  a  contemptuous  smile  on  Messrs. 
Pike  and  Pluck,  who,  cramming  their  handkerchiefs  into  their 
mouths  to  denote  their  silent  enjoyment  of  the  proceedings, 
followed  their  patron  and  his  victim  at  a  little  distance. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIl. 

MISS  NICKLEBY,  RENDERED  DESPERATE  BY  THE  PERSECUTION 
OF  SIR  MULBERRY  HAWK,  AND  THE  COMPLICATED  DIFFI- 
CULTIES AND  DISTRESSES  WHICH  SURROUND  HER,  APPEALS, 
AS    A    LAST    RESOURCE,  TO    HER    UNCLE    FOR    PROTECTION. 

The  ensuing  morning  brought  reflection  with  it,  as  morn- 
ing usually  does  ;  but  widely  different  was  the  train  of  thought 
it  awakened  in  the  different  persons  who  had  been  so  unex- 
pectedly brought  together  on  the  preceding  evening,  by  the 
active  agency  of  Messrs.  Pike  and  Pluck. 

The  reflections  of  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk — if  such  a  term 
can  be  applied  to  the  thoughts  of  the  systematic  and  calcula- 
ting man  of  dissipation,  whose  joys,  regrets,  pains,  and  pleas- 
ures, are  all  of  self,  and  who  would  seem  to  retain  nothing  of 
the  intellectual  faculty  but  the  power  to  debase  himself,  and 
to  degrade  the  very  nature  whose  outward  semblance  he  wears 
— the  reflections  of  Sir  Mulberry'  Hawk  turned  upon  Kate 
Nickleby,  and  were,  in  brief,  that  she  was  undoubtedly  hand- 
some ;  that  her  coyness  must  be  easily  conquerable  by  a  man 
of  his  address  and  experience,  and  that  the  pursuit  was  one 
which  could  not  fail  to  redound  to  'his  credit,  and  greatly  to 
enhance  his  reputation  with  the  world.  And  lest  this  last  con- 
sideration— no  mean  or  secondary  one  with   Sir  Mulberry — 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  357 

should  sound  strangely  in  the  ears  of  some,  let  It  be  remem- 
bered that  most  men  live  in  a  world  of  their  own,  and  that  in 
that  limited  circle  alone  are  they  ambitious  for  distinction  and 
applause.  Sir  Mulberry's  world  was  peopled  with  protiigates, 
and  he  acted  accordingly. 

Thus,  cases  of  injustice,  and  oppression,  and  tyranny,  and 
the  most  extravagant  bigotry,  are  in  constant  occurrence 
among  us  every  day.  It  is  the  custom  to  trumpet  forth  much 
wonder  and  astonishment  at  the  chief  actors  therein  setting 
at  defiance  so  completely  the  opinion  of  the  world  ;  but  there 
is  no  greater  fallacy ;  it  is  precisely  because  they  do  consult 
the  opinion  of  their  own  little  world  that  such  things  take 
place  at  all,  and  strike  the  great  world  dumb  with  amazement. 

The  reliections  of  Mrs.  Nickleby  were  of  the  proudest  and 
most  complacent  kind  ;  under  the  influence  of  her  very  agree- 
able delusion  she  straightway  sat  down  and  indited  a  long 
letter  to  Kate,  in  which  she  expressed  her  entire  approval  of 
the  admirable  choice  she  had  made,  and  extolled  Sir  Mulberry 
to  the  skies  ;  asserting,  for  the  more  complete  satisfaction  of 
her  daughter's  feelings,  that  he  was  precisely  the  individual 
whom  she  (Mrs.  Nickleby")  would  have  chosen  for  her  son-in- 
law,  if  she  had  had  the  picking  and  choosing  from  all  man- 
kind. The  good  lady  then,  with  the  preliminary  observation 
that  she  might  be  fairly  supposed  not  to  have  lived  in  the 
world  so  long  without  knowing  its  ways,  communicated  a  great 
many  subtleprecepts  applicable  to  the  state  of  courtship,  and 
confirmed  in  their  wisdom  by  her  own  personal  experience. 
Above  all  things  she  commended  a  strict  maidenly  reserve,  as 
being  not  only"  a  very  laudable  thing  in  itself,  but  as  tending 
materially  to  strengthen  and  increase  a  lover's  ardor.  "  And 
I  never,"'  added  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  was  more  deUghted  in  my 
life  than  to  observe  last  night,  my  dear,  that  your  good  sense 
had  already  told  you  this."  With  which  sentiment,  and  vari- 
ous hints  of  the  pleasure  she  derived  from  the  knowledge 
that  her  daughter  inherited  so  large  an  instalment  of  her  own 
excellent  sense  and  discretion  (to  nearly  the  full  measure  of 
wiiich  she  might  hope,  with  care,  to  succeed  in  time\  Mrs. 
Nickleby  concluded  a  very  long  and  rather  illegible  letter. 

Poor  Kate  was  well  nigh  distracted  on  the  receipt  of  four 
closely-written  and  closely-crossed  sides  of  congratulation  on 
the  ver\'  subject  which  had  prevented  her  closing  her  eyes  all 
night,  and  kept  her  weeping  and  watching  in  her  chamber  ; 
still  worse   and  more  trying  was  the  necessit)'  of  rendering 


■V"' 


358 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


herself  agreeable  to  Mrs.  Wititterly,  who,  being  in  low  spirits 
after  the  fatigue  of  the  preceding  night,  of  course  expected 
her  companion  (else  wherefore  had  she  board  and  salary  ?)  to 
be  in  the  best  spirits  possible.  As  to  Mr.  Wititterly,  he  went 
about  all  day  in  a  tremor  of  delight  at  having  shaken  hands 
with  a  lord,  and  having  actually  asked  him  to  come  and  see 
him  in  his"  own  house.  The  lord  himself,  not  being  troubled 
to  any  inconvenient  extent  with  the  power  of  thinking,  re- 
galed himself  with  the  conversation  of  Messrs.  Pyke  and 
Pluck,  who  sharpened  their  wit  by  a  plentiful  indulgence  in 
varipus  costly  stimulants  at  his  expense. 

It  was  four  in  the  afternoon — that  is,  the  vulgar  afternoon 
of  the  sun  and  the  clock — and  Mrs.  Wititterly  reclined, 
according  to  custom,  on  the  drawing-room  sofa,  while  Kate 
read  aloud  anew  novel  in  three  volumes,  entitled  "The 
Lady  Flabella,"  which  Alphonse  the  doubtful  had  procured 
.from  the  library  that  very  mornii'ig.^  And  it  was  a  production 
admirably  suited  to  a  lady  labonng  under  Mrs.  Wititterly's 
complaint,  seeing  that  there  was  not  a  line  in  it,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  which  could,  by  the  most  remote  contingency, 
awaken  the  smallest  excitement  in  any  person  breathing. 

Kate  read  on. 

"  '  Cherizette,'  said  the  Lady  Flabella,  inserting  her  mouse- 
like feet  in  the  blue  satin  slippers,  which  had  unwittingly 
occasioned  the  half-playful  half-angry  altercation  between  her- 
self and  the  youthful  Colonel  Befillaire,  in  the  Duke  of  Mince- 
fenille's  salon  de  da/ise  on  the  previous  night.  '  Cherizette,  ma 
chere,  donnez-moi  de  reaii-de-Cologiie,  s'il  Toits p/atf,  711011  eji/a>it.' 

"  '  Mcrcie — thank  you,'  said  the  Lady  Flabella,  as  the  live- 
ly but  devoted  Cherizette,  plentifully  besprinkled-  with  the 
fragrant  compound  the  Lady  Flabella's  mouc/ioir  of  finest 
cambric,  edged  with  richest  lace,  and  emblazoned  at  the  four 
corners  with  the  Flabella  crest,  and  gorgeous  heraldic  bear- 
ings of  that  noble  family;  '■  Mercie — that  will  do.' 

"  At  this  instant,  while  the  Lady  Flabella  yet  inhaled  that 
delicious  fragrance  by  holding  the  mojuhoir  to  her  exquisite, 
but  thoughtfully-chiselled  nose,  the  door  of  the  boudoir 
(artfully  concealed  by  rich  hangings  of  silken  damask,  the  hue 
of  Italy's  firmament)  was  thrown  open,  and  with  noiseless 
tread  two  valets-de-chambre,  clad  in  sumptuous  liveries  of 
peach-blossom  and  gold,  advanced  into  the  room  followed  by 
a  page  in  has  de  soie — silk  stockings — who,  while  they  re- 
mained at  some  distance  making  the  most  graceful  obeisances, 


NTCITOLAS  NJCKLEB  V.  359 

advanced  to  the  feet  of  his  lovely  mistress,  and  dropping  on 
one  knee  presented,  on  a  golden  salver  gorgeously  chased, 
a  scented  />///c't. 

"  The  Lady  Flabella,  with  an  agitation  she  could  not  re- 
press, hastily  tore  off  the  envelope  and  broke  the  scented  seal. 
It  was  from  Beftllaire — the  young,  the  slim,  the  low-voiced — 
//d'r<v?w/  Beiillaire." 

"  Oh,  charming  !  "  interrupted  Kate's  patroness,  who  was 
sometimes  taken  Hterary  ;  "  Poetic,  really.  Read  that  descrip- 
tion again  Miss  Nickleby." 

Kate  complied. 

"  Sweet,  indeed  !  "  said  Mrs.  Wititterlj-,  with  a  sigh.  "  So 
voluptuous,  is  it  not .''     So  soft  .■'  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  replied  Kate,  gently  :   "  very  soft." 

"  Close  the  book.  Miss  Nickleby,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly, 
"  I  can  hear  nothing  more  to-day.  I  should  be  sorry  to  dis- 
turb the  impression  of  that  sweet  description.  Close  the 
book." 

Kate  complied,  not  unwillingly  ;  and,  as  she  did  so,  Mrs. 
Wititterly  raising  her  glass  with  a  languid  hand,  remarked, 
that  she  looked  pale. 

"  It  was  the  fright  of  that — that  noise  and  confusion  last 
night,"  said  Kate. 

"  How  very  odd  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wititterly,  with  a  look 
of  surprise.  And,  certainly,  when  one  comes  to  think  of  it, 
it  was  very  odd  that  anything  should  have  disturbed  a  com- 
panion. A  steam-engine,  or  other  ingenious  piece  of 
mechanism  out  of  order,  would  have  been  nothing  to  it. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  know  Lord  Frederick,  and  those 
other  delightful  creatures,  child  ? "  asked  Mrs.  \\'ititterly,  still 
eyeing  Kate  through  her  glass. 

"I  met  them  at  my  uncle's,"  said  Kate,  vexed  to  feel  that 
she  was  coloring  deeply,  but  unable  to  keep  down  the  blood 
which  rushed  to  her  face  whenever  she  thought  of  that  man. 

"  Have  you  known  them  long  ?  " 

"  No,"  rejoined  Kate.     "  Not  long." 

"  I  was  very  jrladof  the  opportunity  which  that  respectable 
person,  your  mother,  gave  us  of  being  known  to  them,"  said 
Mrs.  Wititterly,  in  a  lofty  manner.  "  Some  friends  of  ours 
were  on  the  very  point  of  introducing  us,  which  makes  it  quite 
remarkable." 

This  was  said  lest  Miss  Nickleby  should  grow  conceited 
on  the  honor  and  dignity  of  having  known  four  great  people 


360 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


(for  Pyke  and  Pluck  were  included  among  the  delightful 
creatures),  whom  Mrs.  Wititterly  did  not  know.  But  as  the 
circumstance  had  made  no  impression  one  way  or  other  upon 
Kate's  mind,  the  force  of  the  observation  was  quite  lost  upon 
her. 

"They  asked  permission  to  call,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly. 
"  I  gave  it  them  of  course." 

"  Do  you  expect  them  to-day  ?  "  Kate  ventured  to  inquire. 

Mrs.  Wititterly's  answer  was  lost  in  the  noise  of  a  tremen- 
dous rapping  at  the  street-door,  and,  before  it  had  ceased  to 
vibrate,  there  drove  up  a  handsome  cabriolet,  out  of  which 
leaped  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  and  his  friend  Lord  Frederick. 

"  They  are  here  now,"  said  Kate,  rising  and  hurr)-ing 
away. 

"  Miss  Nickleby !  "  cried  Mrs.  Wititterly,  perfectly  aghast 
at  a  companion's  attempting  to  quit  the  room,  without  her 
permission  first   had   and  obtained.     "  Pray   don't    think  of 


)) 


going. 

"  You  are  very  good  !  "   replied  Kate.     "  But " 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  don't  agitate  me  by  making  me 
speak  so  much,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  with  great  sharpness. 
"  Dear  me,  Miss  Nickleby,  I  beg '-' 

It  was  in  vain  for  Kate  to  protest  that  she  was  unwell,  for 
the  footsteps  of  the  knockers,  whoever  they  w^ere,  were  already 
on  the  stairs.  She  resumed  her  seat,  and  had  scarcely  done 
so,  when  the  doubtful  page  darted  into  the  room  and  an- 
nounced, Mr.  Pyke,  and  Mr.  Pluck,  and  Lord  Frederick 
Verisopht,  and  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  all  at  one  burst. 

"  The  most  extraordinary  thing  in  the  world,"  said  Mr. 
Pluck,  saluting  both  ladies  with  the  utmost  cordiality  ;  "  the 
most  extraordinarv  thins;.  As  Lord  Frederick  and  Sir  Mul- 
berry  drove  up  to  the  door,  Pyke  and  I  had  that  instant 
knocked." 

"That  instant  knocked,''  said  Pyke. 

"  No  matter  how  you  came,  so  that  you  are  here,"  said  Mrs. 
Wititterly,  who,  by  dint  of  lying  on  the  same  sofa  for  three 
years  and  a  half,  had  got  up  a  little  pantomime  of  graceful 
attitudes,  and  now  threw  herself  into  the  most  striking  of  the 
series,  to  astonish  the  visitors.     "  I  am  delighted,  I  am  sure." 

"  And  how  is  Miss  Nickleby  ?  "  said  Sir  Mulberr}-  Hawk, 
accosting  Kate,  in  a  low  voice  ;  not  so  low,  however,  but  that 
it  reached  the  ears  of  Mrs  Wititterly. 

"  Why,   she  complains  of  suffering;  from  the  fright  of  last 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


361 


night,"  said  the  lady.  "  I  am  sure,  I  don't  wonder  at  it,  for 
my  nerves  are  quite  torn  to  pieces." 

"  And  yet  you  look,"  observed  Sir  Mulberry,  turning  round  ; 
"  and  yet  you  look " 

"  Beyond  everything,"  said  Mr.  Pyke,  coming  to  his 
patron's  assistance.     Of  course  Mr.  Pluck  said  the  same. 

"  I  am  afraid  Sir  Mulberry  is  a  flatterer,  my  lord,"  said 
Mrs.  Wititterly,  turning  to  that  young  gentleman,  who  had 
been  sucking  the  head  of  his  cane  in  silence,  and  staring  at 
Kate. 

"  Oh,  deyvlish  !  "  replied  my  lord.  Having  given  utterance 
to  which  remarkable  sentiment,  he  occupied  himself  as  before. 

"  Neither  does  Miss  Nickleby  look  the  worse,"  said  Sir 
Mulberry,  bending  his  bold  gaze  upon  her.  "  She  was  always 
handsome,  but  upon  my  soul,  ma'am,  you  seem  to  have 
imparted  some  of  your  own  good  looks  to  her  besides." 

To  judge  from  the  glow  which  suffused  the  poor  girl's 
countenance  after  this  speech,  Mrs.  Wititterly  might,  with 
some  show  of  reason,  have  been  supposed  to  have  imparted 
to  it  some  of  that  artificial  bloom  which  decorated  her  own. 
Mrs.  Wititterly  admitted,  though  not  with  the  best  grace  in 
the  world,  that  Kate  (^/i/  look  pretty.  She  began  to  think  too, 
that  Sir  Mulberry  was  not  quite  so  agreeable  a  creature  as 
she  had  at  first  supposed  him  ;  for.  although  a  skilful  flatterer 
is  a  most  delightful  companion  if  you  can  keep  him  all  to 
yourself,  his  taste  becomes  very  doubtful  when  he  takes  to 
complimenting  other  people. 

"  Pyke,"  said  the  watchful  Mr.  Pluck,  observing  the  effect 
which  the  praise  of  Miss  Nickleby  had  produced. 

"  WxU,  Pluck,"  said  Pyke. 

"  Is  there  anybody,"  demanded  Mr.  Pluck,  mysteriously, 
"  anybody  you  know,  whom  Mrs.  Wititterly's  profile  reminds 
you  of?" 

"  Reminds  me  of !  "  answered  Pyke.  "  Of  course  there 
is." 

"  Who  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Pluck,  in  the  same  mysterious 
manner.     "  The  D.  of  B.  ?  " 

"The  C.  of  B.,"  replied  Pyke,  with  the  faintest  trace  of  a 
grin  lingering  in  his  countenance.  "  The  beautiful  sister  is 
the  countess  ;  not  the  duchess." 

"True,"  said  Pluck,  "the  C.  of  B.  The  resemblance  is 
wonderful  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  startling  !  "  said  Mr.  Pyke. 


,62  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Here  was  a  state  of  things  !  Mrs.  Wititterly  was  declared, 
upon  the  testimony  of  two  veracious  and  competent  witnesses, 
to  be  the  very  picture  of  a  countess !  This  was  one  of  the 
consequences  of  getting  into  good  society.  Why,  she  might 
have  moved  among  grovelUng  people  for  twenty  years,  and 
never  heard  of  it.  How  could  she,  indeed  ?  what  did  they 
know  about  countesses ! 

The  two  gentlemen  having  by  the  greediness  with  which 
this  little  bait  was  swallowed,  tested  the  extent  of  Mrs. 
Wititterly's  appetite  for  adulation,  proceeded  to  administer 
that  commodity  in  very  large  doses,  thus  affording  to  Sir 
Mulberry  Hawk  an  opportunity  of  pestering  Miss  Nickleby 
with  questions  and  remarks,  to  which  she  was  absolutely 
oblii;ed  to  make  some  reply.  Meanwhile,  Lord  Frederick 
enjoyed  unmolested  the  full  flavor  of  the  gold  knob  at  the 
top  of  his  cane,  as  he  would  have  done  to  the  end  of  the 
interview  if  Mr.  Wititterly  had  not  come  home,  and  caused 
the  conversation  to  turn  to  his  favorite  topic. 

"  My  lord,"  said  Mr.  Wititterly,  "  I  am  delighted — honored 
— ])roud.  Be  seated  again,  my  lord,  pray.  I  am  proud, 
indeetl ;  most  proud." 

It  was  to  the  secret  annoyance  of  his  wife  that  Mr. 
Wititterly  said  all  this,  for,  although  she  was  bursting  with 
pride  and  arrogance,  she  would  have  had  the  illustrious  guests 
believe  that  their  visit  was  quite  a  common  occurrence,  and 
that  they  had  lords  and  baronets  to  see  them  every  day  in 
the  week.  But  Mr.  Wititterly's  feelings  were  beyond  the 
power  of  suppression. 

"  It  is  an  honor,  indeed !  "  said  Mr.  Wititterly.  "  Julia, 
my  soul,  you  will  suffer  for  this  to-morrow." 

"  Suffer  !  "  cried  Lord  Frederick. 

"The  reaction,  my  lord,  the  reaction,"  said  Mr.  Wititterly. 
"  This  violent  strain  upon  the  nervous  system  over,  my  lord, 
what  ensues  ?  A  sinking,  a  depression,  a  lowness,  a  lassi- 
tude, a  debility.  My  lord,  if  Sir  Tumley  Snuffim  was  to  see 
that  delicate  creature  at  this  moment,  he  would  not  give  a — 
a — this  for  her  life."  In  illustration  of  which  remark,  Mr. 
Wititterly  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  his  box,  and  jerked  it 
lightly  into  the  air  as  an  emblem  of  instability. 

"  Not  that'"  said  Mr.  Wititterly,  looking  about  him  with  a 
serious  countenance.  "  Sir  Tumley  Snuffim  would  not  give 
that  for  Mrs.  Wititterly's  existence." 

Mr.  Wititterly  told' this  with  a  kind  of  sober  exultation,  as 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  363 

if  it  were  no  trifling  distinction  for  a  man  to  have  a  wife  in 
such  a  desperate  state,  and  Mrs.  Wititterly  sighed  and  looked 
on,  as  if  she  felt  the  honor,  but  had  determined  to  bear  it  as 
meekly  as  might  be. 

"  Mrs.  Wititterly,"  said  her  husband,  "  is  Sir  Tumley 
SnufBm's  favorite  patient.  I  believe  1  may  venture  to  say, 
that  Mrs.  Wititterly  is  the  first  person  who  took  the  new 
medicine  which  is  supposed  to  have  destroyed  a  family  at 
Kensington  Gravel  Pits.  I  believe  she  was.  If  1  am  wrong, 
Julia,  my  dear,  you  will  correct  me." 

"  I  believe  I  was,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  in  a  faint  voice. 

As  there  appeared  to  be  some  doubt  in  the  mind  of  his 
patron  how  he  could  best  join  in  this  conversation,  the  inde- 
fatigable Mr.  Pyke  threw  himself  into  the  breach,  and,  by 
way  of  saying  something  to  the  point,  inquired — with  reference 
to  the  aforesaid  medicine — whether  it  was  nice  ? 

"  No,  sir,  it  was  not.  It  had  not  even  that  recommenda- 
tion," said  Mr.  W. 

"  Mrs.  Wititterly  is  quite  a  martyr,"  observed  Pyke,  with 
a  complimentary  bow. 

"  I  //i/'/i/c  1  am,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  smiling, 

"  I  think  you  are,  my  dear  Julia,"  replied  her  husband,  in 
a  tone  which  seemed  to  say  that  he  was  not  vain,  but  still 
must  insist  upon  their  privileges.  "  If  anybody,  my  lord," 
added  Mr.  Wititterly,  wheeling  round  to  the  nobleman,  "will 
produce  to  me  a  greater  martyr  than  Mrs.  Wititterly,  all  I  can 
say  is,  that  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  that  martyr,  whether  male 
or  female — that's  all,  my  lord." 

Pyke  and  Pluck  promptly  remarked  that  certainly  nothing 
could  be  fairer  than  that  ;  and  the  call  having  been  by  this 
time  protracted  to  a  very  great  length,  they  obeyed  Sir  Mul- 
berry's look,  and  rose  to  go.  This  brought  Sir  Mulberry 
himself  and  Lord  Frederick  on  their  legs  also.  Many  pro- 
testations of  friendship,  and  expressions  anticipative  of  the 
pleasure  which  must  inevitably  flow  from  so  happy  an  ac- 
quaintance, were  exchanged,  and  the  visitors  departed,  with 
renewed  assurances  that  at  all  times  and  seasons  the  mansion 
of  the  Wititterlys  would  be  honored  by  receiving  them  beneath 
its  roof. 

That  they  came  at  all  times  and  seasons — that  they  dined 
there  one  day,  supped  the  next,  dnied  again  on  the  next,  and 
were  constantly  to  and  fro  on  all — that  they  made  parties  to 
visit  public  places,  and  met  by  accident  at  lounges — that  upon 


364  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY, 

all  these  occasions  Miss  Nickleby  was  exposed  to  the  con- 
stant and  unremitting  persecution  of  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  who 
now  began  to  feel  his  character,  even  in  the  estimation  of  his 
two  dependants,  involved  in  the  successful  reduction  of  her 
pride — that  she  had  no  intervals  of  peace  or  rest,  except  at 
those  hours  when  she  could  sit  in  her  solitary  room,  and  weep 
over  the  trials  of  the  day — -all  these  were  consequences 
naturally  flowing  from  the  well-laid  plans  of  Sir  Mulberry, 
and  their  able  execution  by  the  auxiliaries.  Pike  and  Pluck. 

And  thus  for  a  fortnight  matters  went  on.  That  anv  but 
the  weakest  and  silliest  of  people  could  have  seen  in  one 
interview  that  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  though  he  was  a 
lord,  and  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  though  he  was  a  baronet,  were 
not  persons  accustomed  to  be  the  best  possible  companions, 
and  were  certainly  not  calculated  by  habits,  manners,  tastes, 
or  conversation,  to  shine  with  any  very  great  lustre  in  the 
society  of  ladies,  need  scarcely  be  remarked.  But  with  Mrs. 
Wititterly  the  two  titles  were  all-sufficient  ;  coarseness  became 
humor,  vulgarity  softened  itself  down  into  the  most  charming 
eccentricity  ;  insolence  took  the  guise  of  an  easy  absence  of 
reserve,  attainable  only  by  those  who  had  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  mix  with  high  folks. 

If  the  mistress  put  such  a  construction  upon  the  behavior 
of  her  new  friends,  what  could  the  companion  urge  against 
them  1  If  they  accustomed  themselves  to  very'  little  restraint 
before  the  lady  of  the  house,  with  how  much  more  freedom 
could  they  address  her  paid  dependant !  Nor  was  e\en  this 
the  worst.  As  the  odious  Sir  Mulberrv  Hawk  attached  him- 
self  to  Kate  with  less  and  less  of  disguise,  Mrs.  Wititterly 
began  to  grow  jealous  of  the  superior  attractions  of  Miss 
Nickleby.  If  this  feeling  had  led  to  her  banishment  from  the 
drawing-room  when  such  company  was  there,  Kate  would  have 
been  only  too  happy  and  willing  that  it  should  have  existed, 
but  unfortunately  for  her  she  possessed  that  native  grace  and 
true  gentility  of  manner,  and  those  thousand  nameless  accom- 
plishments which  give  to  female  society  its  greatest  charm  ;  if 
these  be  valuable  anywhere,  they  were  especially  so  where 
the  lady  of  the  house  was  a  mere  animated  doll.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  Kate  had  the  double  mortification  of  being 
an  indispensable  part  of  the  circle  when  Sir  Mulberry'  and  his 
friends  were  there,  and  of  being  exposed,  on  that  very 
account,  to  all  Mrs.  Wilitterly's  ill-humors  and  caprices  when 
they  were  gone.     She  became  utterly  and  completely  miserable. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


365 


Mrs.  Witltterly  had  ne\-er  thrown  off  the  mask  with  regard 
to  Sir  Mulberry,  but  when  she  was  more  than  usually  out  of 
temper,  attributed  the  circumstance,  as  ladies  sometimes  do, 
to  nervous  indisposition.  However,  as  the  dreadful  idea  that 
Lord  Frederick  Verisopht  also  was  somewhat  taken  with  Kate, 
and  that  she,  Mrs.  Wititterly,  was  quite  a  secondary  person, 
dawned  upon  that  lady's  mind  and  gradually  developed  itself, 
she  became  possessed  with  a  large  quantity  of  highly  proper 
and  most  virtuous  indignation,  and  felt  it  her  duty,  as  a 
married  lady  and  a  moral  member  of  societ)%  to  mention  the 
circumstance  to  "  the  young  person  "  without  delay. 

Accordingly  Mrs.  Wititterly  broke  ground  next  morning, 
during  a  pause  in  the  novel-reading. 

"Miss  Nickleby,"  said  Mrs.  Wititteriy,  "I  wish  to  speak 
to  you  very  gravely.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  do  it,  upon  my 
word  I  am  very  sorry,  but  you  leave  me  no  alternative,  Miss 
Nickleby."  Here  Mrs.  Wititterly  tossed  her  head — not 
passionately,  only  virtuously — and  remarked,  w'ith  some 
appearance  of  excitement,  that  she  feared  that  palpitation  of 
the  heart  was  coming  on  again. 

"  Your  behavior,  Miss  Nickleby,"  resumed  the  lady,  "  is 
very  far  from  pleasing  me — very  far.  I  am  very  anxious 
indeed  that  you  should  do  well,  but  you  may  depend  upon  it, 
Niss  Nickleby.  you  will  not,  if  you  go  on  as  you  do." 

"  Ma'am  !  "  exclaimed  Kate,  proudly. 

"  Don't  agitate  me  by  speaking  in  that  wa\%  Miss  Nickleby, 
don't,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  with  some  violence,  ""or  you'll 
compel   me  to  ring  the  bell." 

Kate  looked  at  her,  but  said  nothing. 

"  You  needn't  suppose,"  resumed  Mrs.  Wititterly,  "  that 
your  looking  at  me  in  that  way.  Miss  Nickleby,  will  prevent 
my  saying  what  I  am  going  to  say,  which  I  feel  to  be  a 
religious  duty.  You  needn't  direct  your  glances  towards  me," 
said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  spite  ;  /  am  not 
Sir  Mulberry,  no,  nor  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  Miss 
Nickleby  ;  nor  am  I  Mr.  Pyke,  nor  Mr.  Pluck  either." 

Kate  looked  at  her  again,  but  less  steadily  than  before  ; 
and  resting  her  elbow  on  the  table,  covered  her  eyes  with  her 
hand. 

"  If  such  things  had  been  done  when  /was  a  young  girl." 
said  Mrs.  Wititterly  (this,  by  the  way,  must  have  been  some 
little  time  before),  "  I  don't  suppose  anybody  would  have  be- 
lieved it." 


366 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


"  I  don't  think  they  would,"  murmured  Kate.  "  I  do  not 
think  anybody  would  believe,  without  actually  knowing  it, 
what  I  seem  doomed  to  undergo !  " 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  of  being  doomed  to  undergo,  Miss 
Nickleby,  if  you  please,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  with  a  shrillness 
of  tone  quite  surprising  in  so  great  an  invalid.  "  I  will  not 
be  answered.  Miss  Nicklebv.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  be 
answered,  nor  will  I  permit  it  for  an  instant.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 
she  added,  waiting  with  some  apparent  inconsistency  for  an 
answer. 

"  I  do  hear  you,  ma'am,"  replied  Kate,  "  with  surprise  ; 
with  greater  surprise  than  I  can  express." 

"I  have  always  considered  you  a  particularly  well-behaved 
young  person  for  your  station  in  life,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly  ; 
"  and  as  you  are  a  person  of  healthy  appearance,  and  neat  in 
your  dress  and  so  forth,  I  have  taken  an  interest  in  you,  as  I 
do  still,  considering  that  I  owe  a  sort  of  duty  to  that  respect- 
able old  female,  your  mother.  For  these  reasons,  Miss 
Nickleby,  I  must  tell  you  once  for  all,  and  begging  3'ou  to 
mind  what  I  say,  that  I  must  insist  upon  your  immediately 
altering  your  very  forward  behavior  to  the  gentlemen  who 
visit  at  this  house.  It  really  is  not  becoming,"  said  Mrs, 
Wititterly,  closing  her  chaste  eyes  as  she  spoke  ;  "  it  is  im- 
proper, quite  improper." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Kate,  looking  upwards  and  clasping  her 
hands  ;  "  is  not  this,  is  not  this,  too  cruel,  too  hard  to  bear ! 
Is  it  not  enough  that  I  should  have  suffered  as  I  have,  night 
and  day ;  that  I  should  almost  ha\-e  sunk  in  my  own  estima- 
tion from  very  shame  of  having  been  brought  into  contact 
with  such  people  ;  but  must  I  also  be  exposed  to  this  unjust 
and  most  unfounded  charge  !  " 

"  You  will  have  the  goodness  to  recollect.  Miss  Nickleby," 
said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  "  that  when  you  use  such  terms  as 
'unjust,'  and  'unfounded,'  you  charge  me,  in  effect,  with 
stating  that  which  is  untrue." 

"  I  do,"  said  Kate,  with  honest  indignation.  "  Whether 
you  make  this  accusation  of  yourself,  or  at  the  prompting  of 
others,  is  alike  to  me.  I  say  it  is  vilely,  grossly,  wilfully 
untrue.  Is  it  possible  !"  cried  Kate,  "that  anyone  of  my 
own  sex  can  have  sat  by,  and  not  have  seen  the  misery  these 
men  have  caused  me  !  Is  it  possible  that  you,  ma'am,  can 
have  been  present,  and  failed  to  mark  the  insulting  freedom 
that  their  every  look  bespoke  .-'     Is  it  possible  that  you  can 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  367 

have  avoided  seeing,  that  these  hbertines,  in  their  utter  dis- 
respect for  you,  and  utter  disregard  of  all  gentlemanly  be- 
havior, and  almost  of  decency,  have  had  but  one  object  in 
introducing  themselves  here,  and  that  the  furtherance  of  their 
designs  uoon  a  friendless,  helpless  girl,  who,  without  this 
humiliating  confession,  might  have  hoped  to  receive  from  one 
so  much  her  senior  something  like  womanly  aid  and  sympathy  ? 
I  do  not — I  cannot  believe  it !  " 

If  poor  Kate  had  possessed  the  slightest  knowledge  of  the 
world,  she  certainly  would  not  have  ventured,  even  in  the 
excitement  into  which  she  had  been  lashed,  upon  such  an 
injudicious  speech  as  this.  Its  effect  was  precisely  what  a 
more  experienced  observer  would  have  foreseen.  Mrs. 
Wititterly  received  the  attack  upon  her  veracity  with  ex- 
emplary calmness,  and  listened  with  the  most  heroic  fortitude 
to  Kate's  account  of  her  own  sufferings.  But  allusion  being 
made  to  her  being  held  in  disregard  by  the  gentlemen,  she 
evinced  violent  emotion,  and  this  blow  was  no  sooner  followed 
up  by  the  remark  concerning  her  seniority,  than  she  fell  back 
upon  the  sofa,  uttering  dismal  screams. 

"What  is  the  matter  !  "  cried  Mr.  Wititterly,  bouncing  into 
the  room.  "Heavens,  what  do  I  see!  Julia!  Julia!  look 
up,  my  life,  look  up  !  " 

But  Julia  looked  down  most  perseveringly,  and  screamed 
still  louder  !  so  Mr.  Wititterly  rang  the  bell,  and  danced  in  a 
frenzied  manner  round  the  sofa  on  which  Mrs.  Wititterly  lay  ; 
uttering  perpetual  cries  for  Sir  Tumley  Snuffim,  and  never 
once  leaving  off  to  ask  for  any  explanation  of  the  scene  be- 
fore him. 

"  Run  for  Sir  Tumley,"  cried  Mr.  Wititterly,  menacing  the 
page  v.ith  both  fists.  "I  knew  it  Miss  Nickleby,"  he  said, 
looking  round  with  an  air  of  melancholy  triumph,  "that 
society  has  been  too  much  for  her.  This  is  all  soul,  you 
know,  every  bit  of  it."  With  this  assurance  Mr.  \\'ititterly 
took  up  the  prostrate  form  of  Mrs.  Wititterly,  and  carried  her 
bodily  off  to  bed. 

Kate  waited  until  Sir  Tumley  Snuffim  had  paid  his  visit 
and  looked  in  with  a  report,  that,  through  tl;e  special  inter- 
position of  a  merciful  Trovidence  (thus  spake  Sir  Tumley), 
Mrs.  Wititterly  had  gone  to  sleep.  She  then  hastily  attired 
herself  for  walking,  and  lea\-ing  word  that  she  should  return 
within  a  couple  of  hours,  hurried  away  towards  her  uncle's 
house. 


368 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


It  had  been  a  good  day  with  Ralph  Nickleby,  quite  a 
lucky  day.  As  he  walked  to  and  fro  in  his  little  back  room 
with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  adding  up  in  his  own 
mind  all  the  sums  that  had  been,  or  would  be,  netted  from 
the  business  done  since  morning,  his  mouth  was  drawn  into  a 
hard  stern  smile  ;  while  the  firmness  of  the  lines  and  curves 
that  made  it  up,  as  well  as  the  cunning  glance  of  his  cold 
bright  eye,  seemed  to  tell,  that  if  any  resolution  or  cunning 
would  increase  the  profits,  they  would  not  fail  to  be  exerted 
for  the  purpose. 

"  Very  good  !  "  said  Ralph,  in  allusion,  no  doubt,  to  some 
proceeding  of  the  day.  "  He  defies  the  usurer,  does  he  ? 
Well,  we  shall  see.  '  Honesty  is  the  best  policy,'  is  it  !  We"ll 
try  that  too." 

He  stopped,  and  then  walked  on  again. 
.  "  He  is  content,"  said  Ralph,  relaxing  into  a  smile,  "to  set 
his  known  character  and  conduct  against  the  power  of  money. 
Dross,  as  he  calls  it.     Why,  what  a  dull  blockhead  this  fellow 
must  be  !     Dross  too,  dross  ! — Who's  that  ?  " 

"  Me,"  said  Newman  Noggs,  looking  in.     "Your  niece." 

"  What  of  her }  "  asked  Ralph  sharply. 

"She's  here." 

"  Here  ?  " 

Newman  jerked  his  head  towards  his  little  room,  to  signify 
that  she  was  waiting  there. 

"  What  does  she  want  t  "  asked  Ralph. 

"  I  don't  know,"  rejoined  Newman.  "  Shall  I  ask  ?  "  he 
added  quickly. 

"  No,"  replied  Ralph.  "  Show  her  in  !  Stay."  He  hastily 
put  away  a  padlocked  cash-box  that  was  on  the  table,  and 
substituted  in  its  stead  an  empty  purse.  "  There,"  said  Ralph. 
"  Now  she  may  come  in." 

Newman,  with  a  grim  smile  at  this  manoeuvre,  beckoned 
the  young  lady  to  advance,  and  having  placed  a  chair  for  her, 
retired  ;  looking  stealthily  over  his  shoulder  at  Ralph  as  he 
limped  slowly  out. 

"  Well,"  said  Ralph,  roughly  enough  ;  but  still  with  some- 
thing more  of  kindness  in  his  manner  than  he  would  have 
exhibited  towards  anybody  else.  "Well,  my — dear.  What 
now  ?  " 

Kate  raised  her  eyes,  which  were  filled  with  tears  ;  and 
with  an  effort  to  master  her  emotion,  strove  to  speak,  but  in 
vain.    So  drooping  her  head  again,  she  remained  silent.    Her 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  360 

face  was  hidden  from  ]iis  view,  but  Ralph  could  see  that  she 
was  weeping. 

"  I  can  guess  the  cause  of  tiiis  !  "  thought  Ralph,  after 
looking  at  her  for  sometime  in  silence.  "  I  can — I  can — ^guess 
the  cause.  Well  1  Well!  "  thought  Ralph — for  the  moment 
quite  disconcerted,  as  he  watched  the  anguish  of  his  beautiful 
niece.  "  Where  is  the  harm  .'  Only  a  few  tears  ;  and  it's  an 
excellent  lesson  for  her,  an  excellent  lesson." 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Ralph,  drawing  a  chair 
opposite,  and  sitting  down. 

He  was  rather  taken  aback  by  the  sudden  firmness  with 
which  Kate  looked  up  and  answered  him. 

"The  matter  which  brings  me  to  you,  sir,"  she  said,  "is 
one  which  should  call  the  blood  up  into  your  cheeks,  and 
make  you  burn  to  hear,  as  it  does  me  to  tell.  I  have  been 
wronged ;  my  feelings  have  been  outraged,  insulted,  wounded 
past  all  healing,  and  by  your  friends." 

"  Friends  !  "  cried  Ralph,  sternly.  "/  have  no  friends, 
girl." 

"By  the  men  I  saw  here,  then,"  returned  Kate,  quickly. 
"  If  they  were  no  friends  of  yours,  and  you  knew  what  they 
were, — oh,  the  more  shame  on  you,  uncle,  for  bringing  me 
among  them.  To  have  subjected  me  to  what  I  was  "exposed 
to  here,  through  any  misplaced  confidence  or  imperfect  know- 
ledge of  your  guests,  would  have  required  some  strong  excuse ; 
but  if  you  did  it — as  I  now  believe  you  did — knowing  them 
well,  it  was  most  dastardly  and  cruel." 

Ralph  drew  back  in  utter  amazement  at  this  plain  speak- 
ing, and  regarded  Kate  with  the  sternest  look.  But  she  met 
his  gaze  proudly  and  firmly,  and  although  her  face  was  very 
pale,  it  looked  more  noble  and  handsome,  lighted  up  as  it  was, 
than  it  had  ever  appeared  before. 

"  There  is  some  of  that  boy's  blood  in  you,  I  see,"  said 
Ralph,  speaking  in  his  harshest  tones,  as  something  in  the 
flashing  eye  reminded  him  of  Nicholas  at  their  last  meeting. 

"  I  hope  there  is  !  "  replied  Kate.  "  I  should  be  proud  to 
know^  it.  I  am  'young,  uncle,  and  all  the  difficulties  and 
miseries  of  my  situation  have  kept  it  down,  but  I  have  been 
roused  to-day  beyond  all  endurance,  and  come  what  may,  / 
w///  7iof,  as  I  am  your  brother's  child,  bear  these  insults 
longer." 

"  What  insults,  girl  ?  "  demanded  Ralph  sharply. 

"Remember   what   took    place  here,   and  ask  yourself," 

24 


370 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


replied  Kate,  coloring  deeply.  "  Uncle  you  must — I  am  sure 
you  will — release  me  from  such  vile  and  degrading  companion- 
ship as  I  am  exposed  to  now.  I  do  not  mean,"  said  Kate, 
hurrying  to  the  old  man,  and  laying  her  arm  upon  his  shoulder; 
"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  angry  and  violent — I  beg  your  pardon 
if  I  have  seemed  so,  dear  uncle, — but  you  do  not  know  what 
I  have  suffered,  you  do  not  indeed.  You  cannot  tell  what 
the  heart  of  a  young  girl  is — I  have  no  right  to  expect  you 
should  ;  but  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  wretched,  and  that  my 
heart  is  breaking,  I  am  sure  you  will  help  me.  I  am  sure,  I 
am  sure  you  will  !  " 

Ralph  looked  at  her  for  an  instant ;  then  turned  away  his 
head,  and  beat  his  foot  nervously  upon  the  ground. 

"  I  have  gone  on  day  after  day,"  said  Kate,  bending  over 
him,  and  timidly  placing  her  little  hand  in  his,  "in  the  hope 
that  this  persecution  would  cease  ;  I  have  gone  on  day  after 
day,  compelled  to  assume  the  appearance  of  cheerfulness, 
when  I  was  most  unhappy.  I  have  had  no  counsellor,  no 
adviser,  no  one  to  protect  me.  Mama  supposes  that  these 
are  honorable  men,  rich  and  distinguished,  and  how  caJi  I — 
how  can  I  undeceive  her — when  she  is  so  happy  in  these 
little  delusions,  which  are  the  only  happiness  she  has  .''  The 
lady  with  whom  you  placed  me,  is  not  the  person  to  whom  I 
could  confide  matters  of  so  much  delicacy,  and  I  have  come 
at  last  to  you,  the  only  friend  I  have  at  hand — almost  the 
only  friend  I  have  at  all — to  intreat  and  implore  you  to  assist 
me." 

"  How  can  I  assist  you,  child  ?  "  said  Ralph,  rising  from 
his  chair,  and  pacing  up  and  down  the  room  in  his  old 
attitude. 

"You  have  influence  with  one  of  these  men,  I  know" 
rejoined  Kate,  emphatically.  "  Would  not  a  word  from  you 
induce  them  to  desist  from  this  unmanly  course .''  " 

"  No,"  said  Ralph,  suddenly  turning  ;  "  at  least — that — I 
cariXaajLit,  if  it  would." 
^'^' Can't  say  it !  " 

"  No,"  said  Ralph,  coming  to  a  dead  stop,  and  clasping 
his  hands  more  tightly  behind  him.     "  i  can't  say  it." 

Kate  fell  back  a  step  or  two,  and  looked  at  him,  as  if  in 
doubt  whether  she  had  heard  aright. 

"We  are  connected  in  business,"  said  Ralph,  poising  him- 
self alternately  on  his  toes  and  heels,  and  looking  coolly  in  his 
niece's  face,  "in  business,  and  1  can't  afford  to  offend  them^ 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


371 


What  is  it  after  all  ?     We  ha\c  all  our  trials,  and  this  is  one 

of  yours.     Some  girls  would  be  proud  to  have  such  gallants  at 
their  feet  "         '-■■■i  ,,....ini».-«i.iMiii.i»ir.i.,i. , .^..^Ktrnw^ajw^a^ww.. 

"  Proud  !  "  cried  Kate. 

"I  don't  say,"  rejoined  Ralph,  raising  his  fore-finger, 
"but  that  you  do  right  to  despise  them  ;  no,  you  show  your 
good  sense  in  that,  as  indeed  I  knew  from  the  first  you  would. 
Well.  In  all  other  respects  you  are  comfortably  bestowed. 
It's  not  much  to  bear.  If  this  young  lord  does  dog  your  foot- 
steps,  and  whisper  his  drivelling  inanities  in  your  ears,  what 
of  it }  It's  a  dishonnrablp^  y3';<;ipn  So  be  it  ;  it  won't  last 
long.  S'ome  "other  novelty  will  spring  up  one  day,  and  you 
will  be  released.     In  the  meantime " 

"  In  the  meantime,"  interrupted  Kate,  with  becoming 
pride  and  indignation,  "  I  am  to  be  the  scorn  of  my  own  sex, 
and  the  toy  of  the  other;  justly  condemned  by  all  women  of 
right  feelmgrn^nd'clespised  by  all  honest  and  honorable  men  ; 
sunken  in  mx.Qwn  esteem,  and  degraded  m  every  eye  that 
looks  upon  me.  No,  not  if  I  work  my  fingers  to  the  bone,  not 
if  I  am  driven  to  the  roughest  and  hardest  labor.  Do  not 
mistake  me.  I  will  not  dis;rrace  vour  recommendation.  I  will 
remain  in  the  house  in  which  it  placed  me,  until  I  am  entitled 
to  leave  it  by  the  terms  of  my  engagement  ;  though,  mind,  I 
see  these  men  no  more  !  When  I  quit  it,  I  will  hide  myself 
from  them  and  you,  and,  striving  to  support  my  mother  by 
hard  service,  I  will  live,  at  least,  in  peace,  and  trust  in  God  to 
help  me." 

With  these  words,  she  waved  her  hand,  and  quitted  the 
room,  leaving  Ralph  Nickleby  motionless  as  a  statue. 

The  surprise  with  which  Kate,  as  she  closed  the  room- 
door,  beheld,  close  beside  it,  Newman  Noggs  standing  bolt 
upright  in  a  little  niche  in  the  wall  like  some  scarecrow  or 
Guy  Faux  laid  up  in  winter  cjuarters,  almost  occasioned  her 
to  call  aloud.  But,  Newman,  laying  his  finger  upon  his  lips, 
she  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  refrain. 

"  Don't,"  said  Newman,  gliding  out  of  his  recess,  and  ac- 
companying her  across  the  hall.  "Don't  cr}',  don't  cry."  Two 
very  large  tears,  by  the  bye,  were  running  down  Newman's 
face,  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  see  how  it  is,"  said  poor  Noggs,  drawing  from  his 
pocket  what  seemed  to  be  a  very  old  duster,  and  wiping  Kate's 
ej-es  with  it,  as  gently  as  if  she  were  an  infant.  "  You're 
giving  way  now.     Yes,  }'es,  very  good  ;  that's  right,   I   like 


372 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


that.  It  was  right  not  to  give  way  before  him.  Yes,  yes ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !     Oh,  yes.     Poor  thing  !  " 

With  these  disjointed  exclamations,  Newman  wiped  his 
own  eyes  with  the  afore-mentioned  duster,  and,  limping  to  the 
street-door,  opened  it  to  let  her  out. 

"Don't  cry  any  more,"  whispered  Newman.  "  I  shall  see 
you  soon.  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  And  so  shall  somebody  else  too. 
Yes,  yes.     Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  " 

"God  bless  you,"  answered  Kate,  hurr}'ing  out,  "God 
bless  you." 

"Same  to  you,"  rejoined  Newman,  opening  the  door  again 
a  little  way,  to  say  so.     "  Ha,  ha,  ha  !     Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  " 

And  Newman  Noggs  opened  the  door  once  again  to  nod 
cheerfully,  and  laugh — and  shut  it,  to  shake  his  head  mourn- 
fully, and  cry. 

Ralph  remained  in  the  same  attitude  till  he  heard  the 
noise  of  the  closing  door,  when  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
after  a  few  turns  about  the  room — hasty  at  first,  but  gradually 
becoming  slower,  as  he  relapsed  into  himself — sat  down  before 
his  desk. 

It  is  one  of  those  problems  of  human  nature,  which  may 
be  ifotcnr "(FivTiT.'biit  lint  sfi!\  e:r;-^a]tTibugh  Ralph  felt  "no  re- 
morse at  that  niniiicnt  for  his  conduct  towards  the  innocent, 
truc-hcancd  girl  ;  although  his  lil)crline  clients  had  doiiL-  ]-;re- 
cisely  what  he  had  expected,  precisely  what  he  most  wished, 
ahcrpfe"cis:elywhat  Avould  tend  most  to  his  advantagcrstill  he 
hated  them  for  doing  it,  from  the  very  bottom  of  Iiis  soul. 

"Ugh!"  said  Ralph,' scowling  round,  and  shaking  his 
clenched  hand  as  the  faces  of  the  two  profligates  rose  up  be- 
fore his  mind  ;  "  you  shall  pay  for  this.  Oh  !  you  shall  pay 
for  this  !  " 

As  the  usurer  turned  for  consolation  to  his  books  and 
papers,  a  performance  was  going  on  outside  his  office-door, 
which  would  have  occasioned  him  no  small  surprise,  if  he 
could  by  any  means  have  become  acquainted  with  it. 

Newman  Noggs  was  the  sole  actor.  He  stood  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  door,  with  his  face  towards  it ;  and  with  the 
sleeves  of  his  coat  turned  back  at  the  wrists,  was  occupied  in 
bestowing  the  most  vigorous,  scientific,  and  straightforward 
blows  upon  the  empty  air. 

At  first  sight,  this  would  have  appeared  merely  a  wise  pre- 
caution in  a  man  of  sedentary  habits,  with  the  view  of  opening 
the  chest  and  strengthening  the  muscles  of  the  arms.     But 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


373 


the  intense  eagerness  and  joy  depicted  in  the  face  of  Newman 
Noggs,  which  was  suffused  with  perspiration  ;  the  surprising 
energy  with  which  he  directed  a  constant  succession  of  blows 
towards  a  particular  panel  about  five  feet  eight  from  the 
ground,  and  still  worked  away  in  the  most  untiring  and  per- 
severing manner  ;  would  have  sufficiently  explained  to  the 
attentive  observer,  that  his  imagination  was  threshing  to  with- 
in an  inch  of  his  life,  his  body's  most  active  employer,  Mr. 
Ralph  Nickleby. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


OF    THE    PROCEEDINGS    OF    NICHOLAS,  AND    CERTAIN    INTERNAL 
DIVISIONS    IN    THE    COMPANY    OF    MR.     VINCENT    CRUMMLES. 

The  unexpected  success  and  favor  with  which  his  experi- 
ment at  Portsmouth  had  been  received,  induced  ]\Ir.  Crumm- 
ies to  prolong  his  stay  in  that  town  for  a  fortnight  beyond  the 
period  he  had  originally  assigned  for  the  duration  of  his  visit, 
during  which  time  Nicholas  personated  a  vast  variety  of 
characters  with  undiminished  success,  and  attracted  so  many 
people  to  the  theatre  who  had  never  been  seen  there  before, 
that  a  benefit  was  considered  by  the  manager  a  ven,-  promising 
speculation.  Nicholas  assenting  to  the  terms  proposed,  the 
benefit  .was  had,  and  by  it  he  realized  no  less  a  sum  than 
twenty  pounds. 

Possessed  of  this  unexpected  wealth,  his  first  act  was  to 
enclose  to  honest  John  Browdie  the  amount  of  his  friendly 
loan,  which  he  accompanied  with  many  expressions  of  grati- 
tude and  esteem,  and  many  cordial  wishes  for  hisraatrim.onial 
happiness.  To  Newman  Noggs  he  for\varded  one  half  of  the 
sum  he  had  realized,  entreating  him  to  take  an  opportunit)' of 
handing  it  to  Kate  in  secret,  and  conveying  to  her  the  warm- 
est assurance  of  his  love  and  affection.  He  made  no  mention 
of  the  way  in  which  he  had  employed  himself  ;  merely  inform- 
ing Newman  that  a  letter  addressed  to  him  under  his 
assumed  name  at  the  Post  Office,  Portsmouth,  would  readily 
find  him,  and  entreating  that  worthy  friend  to  write  full  par- 
ticulars  of  the   situation   of  his  mother  and   sister,   and    an 


274  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

account  of  all  the  grand  things  that  Ralph  Nickleby  had  done 
for  them  since  his  departure  from  London. 

"  You  are  out  of  spirits,"  said  Smike,  on  the  night  after 
the  letter  had  been  dispatched. 

"  Not  1  !  "  rejoined  Nicholas,  with  assumed  gayety,  for  the 
confession  would  have  made  the  boy  miserable  all  night  ;  "  I 
was  thinking  about  my  sister,  Smike." 

"  Sister  !  " 

"Ay." 

"Is  she  like  you  ?"  inquired  Smike. 

"Why,  so  they  say,"  replied  Nicholas,  laughing,  "only  a 
great  deal  handsomer." 

"  She  must  be  very  beautiful,"  said  Smike,  after  thinking 
a  little  while  with  his  hands  folded  together,  and  his  eyes 
bent  upon  his  friend. 

"  Anybody  who  didn't  know  you  as  well  as  I  do,  my  dear 
fellow,  would  say  you  were  an  accomplished  courtier,"  said 
Nicholas. 

"  I  don't  even  know  what  that  is,"  replied  Smike,  shaking 
his  head.     "  Shall  I  ever  see  your  sister  .■'  " 

"To  be  sure,"  cried  Nicholas;  "we  shall  all  be  together 
one  of  these  days — when  we  are  rich,  Smike." 

"  How  is  it  that  you,  who  are  so  kind  and  good  to  me, 
have  nobody  to  be  kind  to  you  ?"  asked  Smike.  "I  cannot 
make  that  out." 

"  Why,  it  is  a  long  stor)',"  replied  Nicholas,  "  and  one  you 
would  have  some  difficulty  in  comprehending,  I  fear.  I  have 
an  enemy — you  understand  what  that  is  .''  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  understand  that,"  said  Smike. 

"  Well,  it  is  owing  to  him,"  returned  Nicholas.  "  He  is  rich, 
and  not  so  easily  punished  as  your  old  enemy,  Mr.  Squeers. 
He  is  my  uncle,  but  he  is  a  villain,  and  has  done  me  wrong." 

"  Has  he  though  ?  "  asked  Smike,  bending  eagerly  forward. 
"  What  is  his  name  ?     Tell  me  his  name. 

"  Ralph— Ralph  Nickleby." 

"  Ralph  Nickleby,"  repeated  Smike.  "  Ralph.  I'll  get 
that  name  by  heart." 

He  had  nuittered  it  over  to  himself  some  twenty  times, 
when  a  loud  knock  at  the  door  disturbed  him  from  his  occu- 
pation. Before  he  could  open  it,  Mr.  Folair,  the  pantomimist, 
thrust  in  his  head. 

Mr.  Folair's  head  was  usually  decorated  with  a  very  round 
hat,  unusually  high  in  the  crown,  and  curled  up  quite  tight  in 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  375 

the  brims.  On  the  present  occasion  he  wore  it  very  much  on 
one  side,  with  the  back  part  forward  in  consequence  of  its 
being  the  least  rusty  ;  round  his  neck  he  wore  a  tiaming  red 
worsted  comforter,  whereof  the  straggUng  ends  peeped  out 
beneath  his  threadbare  Newmarket  coat,  which  was  very  tight 
and  buttoned  all  the  way  up.  He  carried  in  his  hand  one 
very  dirty  glove,  and  a  cheap  dress  cane  with  a  glass  handle  ; 
in  short,  his  whole  appearance  was  unusually  dashing,  and 
demonstrated  a  far  more  scrupulous  attention  to  his  toilet, 
than  he  was  in  the  habit  of  bestowing  upon  it. 

"Good-evening,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Folair,  taking  off  the  tall 
hat,  and  running  his  fingers  through  his  hair.  "  I  bring  a 
communication.     Hem  !  " 

"  From  whom  and  what  about  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas.  "  You 
are  unusually  mysterious  to-night." 

"  Cold,  perhaps,"  returned  Mr.  Folair,  "  cold,  perhaps. 
That  is  the  fault  of  my  position — not  of  myself,  Mr.  Johnson. 
My  position  as  a  mutual  friend  requires  it,  sir."  Mr.  Folair 
paused  with  a  most  impressive  look,  and  diving  into  the  hat, 
before  noticed,  drew  from  thence  a  small  piece  of  whity-brown 
paper  curiously  folded,  whence  he  brought  forth  a  note  which 
it  had  served  to  keep  clean,  and  handing  it  over  to  Nicholas, 
said — 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  read  that,  sir." 

Nicholas,  in  a  state  of  much  amazement,  took  the  note 
and  broke  the  seal,  glancing  at  Mr.  Folair  as  he  did  so,  who, 
knitting  his  brow  and  pursing  up  his  mouth  with  great  dignity, 
was  sitting  with  his  eyes  steadfastly  fixed  upon  the  ceiling. 

It  was  directed  to  blank  Johnson,  Esq.,  by  favor  of  Augus- 
tus Folair,  Esq.  ;  and  the  astonishment  of  Nicholas  was  in  no 
degree  lessened,  when  he  found  it  to  be  couched  in  the  fol- 
lowing: laconic  terms  : 


'O 


"  Mr.  Lenville  presents  his  kind  regards  to  Mr.  Johnson, 
and  will  feel  obliged  if  he  will  inform  him  at  what  hour  to- 
morrow morning  it  will  be  most  convenient  to  him  to  meet  Mr. 
L.  at  the  theatre,  for  the  purpose  of  having  his  nose  pulled  in 
the  presence  of  the  company. 

"  Mr.  Lenville  requests  Mr.  Johnson  not  to  neglect  making 
an  appointment,  as  he  has  invited  two  or  three  professional 
friends  to  witness  the  ceremony,  and  cannot  disappoint  them 
upon  any  account  whatever. 

"  Portsmouth^  Tuesday  night." 


376  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Indignant  as  he  was  at  this  impertinence,  there  was  some- 
thing so  exquisitely  absurd  in  such  a  cartel  of  defiance,  that 
Nicholas  was  obliged  to  bite  his  lip  and  read  the  note  over 
two  or  three  times  before  he  could  muster  sufiicient  gravity 
and  sternness  to  address  the  hostile  messenger,  who  had  not 
taken  his  eyes  from  the  ceiling,  nor  altered  the  expression  of 
his  face  in  the  slightest  degree. 

"  Do  you  know  the  contents  of  this  note,  sir  ?  "  he  asked, 
at  length. 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Mr.  Folair,  looking  round  for  an  instant, 
and  immediately  carrying  his  eyes  back  again  to  the  ceil- 
ing. 

"  And  how  dare  you  bring  it  here,  sir  ?  "  asked  Nicholas, 
tearing  it  into  very  little  pieces,  and  jerking  it  in  a  shower 
towards  the  messenger.  "  Had  you  no  fear  of  being  kicked 
down  stairs,  sir  ?  " 

Mr.  Folair  turned  his  head — now  ornamented  with  several 
fragments  of  the  note — towards  Nicholas,  and  with  the  same 
imperturbable  dignity,  briefly  replied  "  No." 

"  Then,"  said  Nicholas,  taking  up  the  tall  hat  and  tossing 
it  towards  the  door,  "you  had  better  follow  that  article  of 
your  dress,  sir,  or  you  may  find  yourself  very  disagreeably 
deceived,  and  that  within  a  dozen  seconds." 

"  I  say,  Johnson,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Folair,  suddenly  los- 
ing all  his  dignity,  "  none  of  that,  you  know.  No  tricks  with 
a  gentleman's  wardrobe." 

"Leave  the  room,"  returned  Nicholas.  "  How  could  you 
presume  to  come  here  on  such  an  errand,  you  scoundrel } " 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  "  said  Mr.  Folair,  unwinding  his  comforter, 
and  gradually  getting  himself  out  of  it.  "  There — that's 
enough."' 

"Enough !  "    cried    Nicholas,    advancing    towards    him. 
"  Take  yourself  off,  sir." 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  I  tell  you,"  returned  Mr.  Folair,  waving 
his  hand  in  deprecation  of  any  further  wrath ;  "  I  wasn't  in 
earnest.     I  only  brought  it  in  joke." 

"  You  had  better  be  careful  how  you  indulge  in  such  jokes 
again,"  said  Nicholas,  "or  you  may  find  an  allusion  to  pull- 
ing noses  rather  a  dangerous  reminder  for  the  subject  of  your 
facetiousness.     Was  it  written  in  joke,  too,  pray?  " 

"  No,  no,  that's  the  best  of  it,"  returned  the  actor  ;  "  right 
down  earnest — honor  bright." 

Nicholas  could  not  repress  a  smile  at  the  odd  figure  before 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


377 


him,  wliicli,  at  all  times  more  calculated  to  provoke  mirth 
than  anger,  was  especially  so  at  that  moment,  when  witli  one 
knee  upon  the  ground,  Mr.  Folair  twirled  his  old  hat  round 
upon  his  hand,  and  affected  the  extremest  agony  lest  any  of  the 
nap  should  have  been  knocked  off — an  ornament  which  it  is 
almost  superfluous  to  say,  it  had  not  boasted  for  many  months. 

"  Come  sir,"  said  Nicholas,  laughing  in  spite  of  himself. 
"  Have  the  goodness  to  explain." 

"Why,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Folair,  sitting  him- 
self down  in  a  chair  with  great  coolness.  "  Since  you  came 
here  Lenville  has  done  nothing  but  second  business,  and,  in- 
stead of  having  a  reception  every  night  as  he  used  to  have, 
they  have  let  him  come  on  as  if  he  was  nobody." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  reception  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 
.  "  Jupiter  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Folair,  "  what  an  unsophiscated 
shepherd  you  are,  Johnson  !  Why,  applause  from  the  house 
when  you  first  come  on.  So  he  has  gone  on  night  after  night 
never  getting  a  hand,  and  you  getting  a  couple  of  rounds  at 
least,  and  sometimes  three,  till  at  length  he  got  quite  desper- 
ate and  had  half  a  mind  last  night  to  play  Tybalt  with  a  real 
sword,  and  pink  you — not  dangerously,  but  just  enough  to  lay 
you  up  for  a  month  or  two." 

"Very  considerate,"  remarked  Nicholas. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  was  under  the  circumstances  ;  his  profes- 
sional reputation  being  at  stake,"  said  Mr.  Folair,  quite  seri- 
ously. "  But  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  cast  about  for  some 
other  way  of  annoying  you,  and  making  himself  popular  at 
the  same  time — for  that's  the  point.  Notoriety,  notoriety  is 
the  thing.  Bless  you,  if  he  pinked  you,"  said  Mr  Folair,  stop- 
ping to  make  a  calculation  in  his  mind,  "  it  would  have  been 
worth — ah,  it  would  have  been  worth  eight  or  ten  shillings  a 
a  week  to  him.  All  the  town  would  have  come  to  see  the 
actor  who  nearly  killed  a  man  by  mistake  ;  I  shouldn't  wonder 
if  it  had  got  him  an  engagement  in  London.  However,  he 
was  obliged  to  try  some  other  mode  of  getting  popular,  and 
this  one  occurred  to  him.  It's  a  clever  idea,  really.  If  you  had 
shown  the  white  feather,  and  let  him  pull  your  nose,  he'd  have 
got  it  into  the  paper  ;  if  you  had  sworn  the  peace  against  him, 
it  would  have  been  in  the  paper  too,  and  he'd  have  been  just 
as  much  talked  about  as  you — don't  you  see  ?  " 

"Oh  certainly,"  rejoined  Nicholas;  "but  suppose  I  were 
to  turn  the  tables,  and  pull  Ais  nose,  what  then  ?  Would  that 
make  his  fortune  .'' " 


-  -  8  NICHOLAS  NIC /CLE  B  Y. 

"Why,  I  don't  think  it  would,"  replied  Mr.  Folair,  scratch- 
ino-  his  head,  "  because  there  wouldn't  be  any  romance  about 
it,  and  he  wouldn't  be  favorably  known.  To  tell  you  the 
truth  though  he  didn't  calculate  much  upon  that,  for  you're 
always  so  mild  spoken,  and  are  so  popular  among  the  women, 
that  we  didn't  suspect  you  of  showing  fight.  If  you  did,  how- 
ever, he  has  a  way  of  getting  out  of  it  easily,  depend  upon 
that." 

"  Has  he  ?  "  rejoined  Nicholas  "we  will  try  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. In  the  meantime,  you  can  give  whatever  account  of  our 
interview  you  like  best.     Good-night." 

As  Mr.  Folair  was  pretty  well  known  among  his  fellow- 
actors  for  a  man  who  delighted  in  mischief,  and  was  by  no 
means  scrupulous,  Nicholas  had  not  much  doubt  but  that  he 
had  secretly  prompted  the  tragedian  in  the  course  he  li^d 
taken,  and,  moreover,  that  he  would  have  carried  his  mission 
with  a  very  high  hand  if  he  had  not  been  disconcerted  by  the 
very  unexpected  demonstrations  with  which  it  had  been  re- 
ceived. It  was  not  worth  his  while  to  be  serious  with  him, 
however,  so  he  dismissed  the  pantomimist,  with  a  gentle  hint 
that  if  he  offended  again  it  would  be  under  the  penalty  of  a 
broken  head  ;  and  Mr.  Folair  taking  the  caution  in  exceed- 
ingly good  part,  walked  away  to  confer  with  his  principal,  and 
give  him  such  an  account  of  his  proceedings  as  he  might  think 
best  calculated  to  carry  on  the  joke. 

He  had  no  doubt  reported  that  Nicholas  was  in  a  state  of 
extreme  bodily  fear  :  for  when  that  young  gentleman  walked 
Avith  much  deliberation  down  to  the  theatre  next  morning  at 
the  usual  hour,  he  found  all  the  company  assembled  in  evident 
expectation,  and  Mr.  Lenville,  \yilh  his  severest  stage  face, 
sitting  majestically  on  a  table  whistling  defiance. 

Now  the  ladies  were  on  the  side  of  Nicholas,  and  the  gen- 
tlemen (being  jealous)  were  on  the  side  of  the  disappointed 
tragedian  ;  so  that  the  latter  formed  a  little  group  about  the 
redoubtable  Mr.  Lenville,  and  the  former  looked  on  at  a  litde 
distance  in  some  trepidation  and  anxiety.  On  Nicholas  stop- 
ping to  salute  them,  Mr.  Lenville  laughed  a  scornful  laugh, 
and  made  some  general  remark  touching  the  natural  history  of 
puppies. 

"  Oh  !  "   said  Nicholas   looking  quietly  round,    "  are  you 

there  ?  " 

"  Slave  !  "  returned  Mr.  Lenville,  fiourishing  his  right  arm 
and  approaching  Nicholas  with  a  theatrical  stride.     But  some- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


379 


how  he  appeared  just  at  that  moment  a  little  startled,  as  if 
Nicholas  did  not  look  quite  so  frightened  as  he  had  expected, 
and  came  all  at  once  to  an  awkward  halt,  at  which  the  assem- 
bled ladies  burst  into  a  shrill  laugh. 

"  Object  of  my  scorn  and  hatred  !  "  said  Mr.  Lenville,  "  I 
hold  ye  in  coniempt." 

Nicholas  laughed  in  very  unexpected  enjoyment  of  this 
performance ;  and  the  ladies,  by  way  of  encouragement, 
laughed  louder  than  before  ;  whereat  Mr.  Lenville  assumed 
his  bitterest  smile,  and  expressed  his  opinion  that  they  were 
"  minions." 

"  Uut  they  shall  not  protect  ye  !  "  said  the  tragedian,  taking 
an  upward  look  at  Nicholas,  beginning  at  his  boots  and 
ending  at  the  crown  of  his  head,  and  then  a  downward  one 
beginning  at  the  crown  of  his  head,  and  ending  at  his  boots — 
which  two  looks,  as  ever)'body  knows  express  defiance  on  the 
stage.     "  They  shall  not  protect  ye — boy  !  " 

Thus  speaking,  Mr.  Lenville  folded  his  arms,  and  treated 
Nicholas  to  that  expression  of  face  with  which,  in  melo-dra- 
matic  performances,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  regarding  the  tyr- 
anical  kings  when  they  said,  "  Away  with  him  to  the  deepest 
dungeon  beneath  the  castle  moat ;  "  and  which,  accompanied 
with  a  little  jingling  of  fetters,  had  been  known  to  produce 
great  effects  in  its  time. 

Whether  it  was  the  absence  of  fetters  or  not,  it  made  no 
very  deep  impression  on  Mr.  Lenville's  adversary,  however, 
but  rather  seemed  to  increase  the  good  humor  expressed  in 
his  countenance  ;  in  which  stage  of  the  contest,  one  or  two 
gentlemen,  who  had  come  out  expressly  to  witness  the  pulling 
of  Nicholas's  nose,  grew  impatient,  murmuring  that  if  it  were 
to  be  done  at  all  it  had  better  be  done  at  once,  and  that  if 
Mr.  Lenville  didn't  mean  to  do  it  he  had  better  say  so,  and 
not  keep  them  waiting  there.  Thus  urged,  the  tragedian  ad- 
justed the  cuff  of  his  right  coat  sleeve  for  the  performance  of 
the  operation,  and  walked  in  a  very  stately  manner  up  to  Nich- 
olas, who  suffered  him  to  approach  to  within  th.e  requisite  dis- 
tance, and  then,  without  the  smallest  discomposure,  knocked 
him  down. 

Before  the  discomfited  tragedian  could  raise  his  head  from 
the  boards,  Mrs.  Lenville  (who,  as  has  been  before  hinted,  was 
in  an  interesting  state)  rushed  from  the  rear  rank  of  ladies, 
and  uttering  a  piercing  scream  threw  herself  upon  the  body. 

"  Do  you  see  this,  monster  ?     Do  you  see  this  ?  "  cried  Mr. 


28o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Lenville,  sitting  up,  and  pointing  to  his  prostrate  lady,  who 
was  holding  him  very  tight  round  the  waist. 

"Come,"  said  Nicholas,  nodding  his  head,  "apologize  for 
the  insolent  note  you  wrote  to  me  last  night,  and  waste  no 
more  time  in  talking." 

"  Never  1  "  cried  Mr.  Lenville. 

"  Yes — yes — yes  !  "  screamed  his  wife,  "  For  my  sake — 
for  mine,  Lenville — forego  all  idle  forms,  unless  you  would  see 
me  a  blighted  corse  at  your  feet." 

"  This  is  affecting  !  "  said  Mr.  Lenville,  looking  round  him, 
and  drawing  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  "  The  ties 
of  nature  are  strong.  The  weak  husband  and  the  father — the 
father  that  is  yet  to  be — relents.     I  apologize." 

"Humbly  and  submissively?"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Humbly  and  submissively,"  returned  the  tragedian, 
scowling  upward.  "  But  only  to  save  her, — for  a  time  will 
come " 


"  Very  good,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "  I  hope  Mrs.  Lenville  may 
have  a  good  one  ;  and  when  it  does  come,  and  you  are  a 
father,  you  shall  retract  it  if  you  have  the  courage.  There. 
Be  careful,  sir,  to  what  lengths  your  jealousy  carries  you  an- 
other time  ;  and  be  careful,  also,  before  you  venture  too  far, 
to  ascertain  your  rival's  temper."  With  this  parting  advice 
Nicholas  picked  up  Mr.  Lenville's  ash  stick  which  had  flown 
out  of  his  hand,  and  breaking  it  in  half,  threw  him  the  pieces 
and  withdrew. 

The  profoundest  deference  was  paid  to  Nicholas  that 
night,  and  the  people  who  had  been  most  anxious  to  have  his 
nose  pulled  in  the  morning,  embraced  occasions  of  taking  him 
aside,  and  telling  him  with  great  feeling,  how  very  friendly 
they  took  it  that  he  should  have  treated  that  Lenville  so  prop- 
erly, who  was  a  most  unbearable  fellow,  and  on  whom  they 
had  all,  by  a  remarkable  coincidence,  at  one  time  or  other  con- 
templated the  infliction  of  condign  punishment,  which  they 
had  only  been  restrained  from  administering  by  considera- 
tions of  mercy  ;  indeed,  to  judge  from  the  invariable  termina- 
tion of  all  these  stories,  there  never  was  such  a  charitable  and 
kind-hearted  set  of  people  as  the  male  members  of  Mr. 
Crummles's  company. 

Nicholas  bore  his  triumph,  as  he  had  his  success  in  the 
little  world  of  the  theatre,  with  the  utmost  moderation  and 
good  humor.  The  crest-fallen  Mr.  Lenville  made  an  expiring 
effort  to  obtain  revenge  by  sending  a  boy  into  the  gallery  to 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  381 

hiss,  but  he  fell  a  sacrifice  to  popular  indignation,  and  was 
promptly  turned  out  without  having  his  money  back. 

"Well,  Smike,"  said  Nicholas  when  the  first  piece  was 
over,  and  he  had  almost  finished  dressing  to  go  home,  "  is 
there  any  letter  yet  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Smike,  "  I  got  this  one  from  the  post- 
ofifice." 

"  From  Newman  Noggs,"  said  Nicholas,  casting  his  eye 
upon  the  cramped  direction ;  "  it's  no  easy  matter  to  make 
his  writing  out.     Let  me  see — let  me  see." 

Bv  dint  of  poring  over  the  letter  for  half  an  hour,  he 
contrived  to  make  himself  master  of  the  contents,  which  were 
certainly  not  of  a  nature  to  set  his  mind  at  ease.  Newman 
took  upon  himself  to  send  back  the  ten  pounds,  observing 
that  he  had  ascertained  that  neither  Mrs.  Nickleby  nor  Kate 
was  in  actual  want  of  money  at  the  moment,  and  that  a  time 
might  shortly  come  when  Nicholas  might  want  it  more.  He 
entreated  him  not  be  alarmed  at  what  he  was  about  to  say  ; — 
there  was  no  bad  news — they  were  in  good  health — but  he 
thought  circumstances  might  occur,  or  were  occurring,  which 
would  render  it  absolutely  necessary  that  Kate  should  have 
her  brother's  protection,  and  if  so,  Newman  said,  he  would 
write  to  him  to  that  effect,  either  by  the  next  post  or  the  next 
but  one. 

Nicholas  read  this  passage  very  often,  and  the  more  he 
thought  of  it  the  more  he  began  to  fear  some  treachery  upon 
the  part  of  Ralph.  Once  or  twice  he  felt  tempted  to  repair 
to  London  at  all  hazards  without  an  hour's  delay,  but  a  little 
reflection  assured  him  that  if  such  a  step  were  necessar}-,  New- 
man would  have  spoken  out  and  told  hun  so  at  once. 

"  At  all  event's  I  should  prepare  them  here  for  the  pos- 
sibility of  my  going  away  suddenly,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "  I  should 
lose  no  time  in  doing  that."  As  the  thought  occurred  to  him, 
he  took  up  his  hat  and  hurried  to  the  green-room. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Johnson,"  said  Mrs.  Crummies,  who  was 
seated  there  in  full  regal  costume  with  the  phenomenon  as  the 
Maiden  in  her  maternal  arms,  "  next  week  for  Ryde,  then  for 
Winchester,  then  for " 

"I  have  some  reason  to  fear,"  interrupted  Nicholas,  "that 
before  you  leave  here  my  career  with  you  will  have  closed." 

"  Closed  I  "  cried  Mrs.  Crummies,  raising  her  hands  in 
astonishment. 

"  Closed  !  "  cried  Miss   Snevellicci,  trembling  so  much  in 


382  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

her  tights  that  she  actually  laid  her  hand  upon  the  shoulder 
of  the  manageress  for  support. 

"Why  he  don't  mean  to  say  he's  going!  "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Grudden,  making  her  way  towards  Mrs.  Crummies.  "  Hoity 
toity  !  Nonsense." 

The  phenomenon  being  of  an  affectionate  nature  and 
moreover  excitable  raised  a  loud  cry,  and  Miss  Belvawney 
and  Miss  Bra\'assa  actually  shed  tears.  Even  the  male  per- 
formers stopped  in  their  conversation,  and  echoed  the  word 
"  Going !  "  although  some  among  them  (and  they  had  been 
the  loudest  in  their  congratulations  that  day)  winked  at  each 
other  as  though  they  would  not  be  sorry  to  lose  such  a  favored 
rival  ;  an  opinion,  indeed,  which  the  honest  Mr.  Folair,  who 
was  ready  dressed  for  the  savage,  openly  stated  in  so  many 
words  to  a  demon  with  whom  he  was  sharing  a  pot  of  porter. 

Nicholas  briefly  said  that  he  feared  it  would  be  so,  al- 
though he  could  not  yet  speak  with  any  degree  of  certainty  ; 
and  getting  away  as  soon  as  he  could,  went  home  to  con  New- 
man's letter  once  more,  and  speculate  upon  it  afresh. 

How  trifling  all  that  had  been  occupying  his  time  and 
thoughts  for  many  weeks  seemed  to  him  during  that  sleepless 
night,  and  how  constantly  and  incessantly  present  to  his 
imagination  was  the  one  idea  that  Kate  in  the  midst  of  some 
great  trouble  and  distress  might  even  then  be  looking — and 
vainly  too — for  him  ! 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


FESTIVITIES  ARE  HELD  IN  HONOR  OF  NICHOLAS,  WHO  SUD- 
DENLY WITHDRAWS  HIMSELF  FROM  THE  SOCIETY  OF  MR. 
VINCENT    CRUMMLES    AND    HIS    THEATRICAL    COMPANIONS. 

Mr.  Vincent  Crummles  was  no  sooner  acquainted  with 
the  public  announcement  which  Nicholas  had  made  relative 
to  the  probability  of  his  shortly  ceasing  to  be  a  member  of 
the  company,  than  he  evinced  many  tokens  of  grief  and  con- 
sternation ;  and,  in  the  extremity  of  his  despair,  c\cn  held  out 
certain  vague  promises  of  a  speedy  inipro\'ement  not  only  in 
the  amount  of  his   regular  salary,  but  also  in  the  contingent 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  383 

emoluments  appertaining  to  Iiis  autliorship.  Finding  Nicliolas 
bent  upon  quitting  the  society  (for  he  had  now  determined 
that,  even  if  no  further  tidings  came  from  Newman,  he  would, 
at  all  hazards,  ease  his  mind  by  repairing  to  London  and  as- 
certaining the  exact  position  of  his  sister)  Mr.  Crummies  was 
fain  to  content  himself  by  calculating  the  chances  of  his  com- 
ing back  again,  and  taking  prompt  and  energetic  measures  to 
make  the  most  of  him  before  he  went  away. 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  taking  off  his  outlaw's 
wig,  the  better  to  arrive  at  a  cool-headed  view  of  the  whole 
case.  "  Let  me  see.  This  is  Wednesday  night.  \^'e'll  have 
posters  out  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  announcing  posi- 
tively your  last  appearance  for  to-morrow." 

"■  But  perhaps  it  may  not  be  my  last  appearance,  you 
know,"  said  Nicholas.  "Unless  I  am  summoned  away,  I 
should  be  sorry  to  inconvenience  you  by  leaving  before  the 
end  of  the  week." 

"So  much  the  better,"  returned  Mr.  Crummies.  "We 
can  have  positively  your  last  appearance,  on  Thursday — re-en- 
gagement for  one  night  more,  on  Friday — and,  yielding  to  the 
wishes  of  numerous  influential  patrons,  who  were  disappointed 
in  obtaining  seats,  on  Saturday.  That  ought  to  bring  three 
ver\'  decent  houses." 

"  Then  1  am  to  make  three  last  appearances,  am  1  ?  "  in- 
quired Nicholas,  smiling. 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  the  manager,  scratching  his  head  with  an 
air  of  some  vexation  ;  "  three  is  not  enough,  and  it's  very 
bungling  and  irregular  not  to  have  more,  but  if  we  can't  help 
it  we  can't,  so  there's  no  use  in  talking.  A  novelty  would  be 
very  desirable.  You  couldn't  sing  a  comic  song  on  the  pony's 
back,  could  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Nicholas,  "  I  couldn't  indeed." 

"  It  has  drawn  money  before  now,"  said  Mr.  Crummies, 
with  a  look  of  disappointment.  "  What  do  you  think  of  a 
brilliant  display  of  fireworks  ?  " 

"  That  it  would  be  rather  expensive,"  replied   Ni 
dryly. 

"  Eighteenpence  would  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Crummies, 
on  the  top  of  a  pair  of  steps  with  the  phenomenon  in  an  atti- 
tude ;  '  Farewell '  on  a  transparency  behind  ;  and  nine  people 
at  the  wings  with  a  squib  in  each  hand — all  the  dozen  and  a 
half  going  off  at  once — it  would  be  very  grand — awful  from 
the  front,  quite  awful." 


Michaias^v 
5.    "  You  ' 


384 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


As  Nicholas  appeared  by  no  means  impressed  with  the 
solemnity  of  the  proposed  effect,  but,  on  the  contrary,  received 
the  proposition  in  a  most  irreverent  manner,  and  laughed  at 
it  very  heartily,  Mr.  Crummies  abandoned  the  project  in  its 
birth,  and  gloomily  observed  that  they  must  make  up  the  best 
bill  they  could  with  combats  and  hornpipes,  and  so  stick  to 
the  legitimate  drama. 

For  the  purpose  of  carrying  this  object  into  instant  execu- 
tion, the  manager  at  once  repaired  to  a  small  dressing-room, 
adjacent,  where  Mrs.  Crummies  was  then  occupied  in  ex- 
changing the  habiliments  of  a  melo-dramatic  empress  for  the 
ordinary  attire  of  matrons  in  the  nineteenth  century.  And 
with  the  assistance  of  this  lady,  and  the  accomplished  Mrs. 
Grudden  (who  had  quite  a  genius  for  making  out  bills,  being 
a  great  hand  at  throwing  in  the  notes  of  admiration,  and  know- 
ing from  long  experience  exactly  where  the  largest  capitals 
ought  to  go),  he  seriously  applied  himself  to  the  composition 
of  the  poster. 

"  Heigho  !  "  sighed  Nicholas,  as  he  threw  himself  back  in 
the  prompter's  chair,  after  telegraphing  the  needful  directions 
to  Smike,  who  had  been  playing  a  meagre  tailor  in  the  inter- 
lude, with  one  skirt  to  his  coat,  and  a  little  pocket  handker- 
chief with  a  large  hole  in  it,  and  a  woollen  nightcap,  and  a  red 
nose,  and  other  distinctive  marks  peculiar  to  tailors  on  the 
stage.     "  Heisrho  !     I  wish  all  this  were  over." 

"  Over,  Mr.  Johnson  !  "  repeated  a  female  voice  behind 
him,  in  a  kind  of  plaintive  surprise. 

"  It  was  an  ungallant  speech,  certainly,"  said  Nicholas, 
looking  up  to  see  who  the  speaker  was,  and  recognizing  Miss 
Sneveilicci.  "  I  would  not  have  made  it  if  I  had  known  you 
had  been  within  hearing." 

"  What  a  dear  that  Mr.  Digby  is  !  "  said  Miss  Sneveilicci, 
as  the  tailor  went  off  on  the  opposite  side,  at  the  end  of  the 
piece,  with  great  applause.  (Smike's  theatrical  name  was 
Digby.) 

"  I'll  tell  him  presently,  for  his  gratification,  that  you  said 
so,"  returned  Nicholas. 

"  Oh  you  naughty  thing  !  "  rejoined  Miss  Sneveilicci.  "  I 
don't  know  though,  that  I  should  much  mind  his  knowing  my 
opinion   of   him  ;    with  some   other  people,   indeed,   it  might 

be "     Here   Miss   Sneveilicci  stopped,  as  though  waiting 

to  be  questioned,  but  no  questioning  came,  for  Nicholas  was 
thinking  about  more  serious  matters. 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEBY. 


38s 


"How  kind  it  is  of  you,"  resumed  Miss  Snevellicci,  after 
a  short  silence,  ''to  sit  waiting  for  him  night  after  night, 
night  after  night,  no  matter  how  tired  you  are  ;  and  taking  so 
much  pains  with  him,  and  doing  it  all  with  as  much  delight 
and  readiness  as  if  you  were  coining  gold  by  it !  " 

"  He  well  deserves  all  the  kindness  I  can  show  him,  and  a 
great  deal  more,"  said  Nicholas.  "  He  is  the  most  grateful, 
single-hearted,  affectionate  creature,  that  ever  breathed." 

"  So  odd,  too,"  remarked  Miss  Snevellicci,  "  isn't  he  }  " 

"  God  help  him,  and  those  who  have  made  him  so ;  he  is 
indeed,"  rejoined  Nicholas,  shaking  his  head. 

"  He  is  such  a  devilish  close  chap,"  said  Mr.  Folair,  who 
had  come  up  a  little  before,  and  now  joined  in  the  conversa- 
tion.    "  Nobody  can  ever  get  anything  out  of  him." 

"  What  should  they  get  out  of  him  1 "  asked  Nicholas, 
turning  round  with  some  abruptness. 

"  Zooks  !  what  a  fire-eater  you  are,  Johnson  !  "  returned 
Mr.  Folair,  pulling  up  the  heel  of  his  dancing  shoe.  "  I'm 
only  talking  of  the  natural  curiosity  of  the  people  here,  to 
know  what  he  has  been  about  all  his  life." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  it  is  pretty  plain,  I  should  think,  that  he 
has  not  the  intellect  to  have  been  about  anything  of  much 
importance  to  them  or  anj'body  else,"  said  Nicholas. 

"Ay,"  rejoined' the  actor,  contemplating  the  effect  of  his 
face  in  a  lamp  reflector,  "  but  that  involves  the  whole  ques- 
tion, you  know." 

"  What  question  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  Why,  the  who  he  is  and  what  he  is,  and  how  you  two, 
who  are  so  different,  came  to  be  such  close  companions,"  re- 
plied Mr,  Folair,  delighted  with  the  opportunity  of  saying 
something  disagreeable.     "That's  in  everybody's  mouth." 

"  The  '  everybody  '  of  the  theatre,  I  suppose  .''  "  said  Nich- 
olas, contemptuously. 

"In  it  and  out  of  it  too,"  replied  the  actor.  "  Why,  you 
know,  Lenville  says " 

"  I  thought  I  had  silenced  him  effectually,"  interrupted 
Nicholas,  reddening.  / 

"  Perhaps  you  have,"  rejoined  the  immovable  Mr.  Folair ; 
"  if  you  have,  he  said  this  before  he  was  silenced  :  Lenville 
says  that  you're  a  reg^ilar  stick  of  an  actor,  and  that  it's  only 
the  mystery  about  you  that  has  caused  you  to  go  down  with 
the  people  here,  and  that  Crummies  keeps  it  up  for  his  own 
sake  ;  though  Lenville  says  he  don't  believe  there's  anything 

25 


386  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

at  all  in  it,  except  your  having  got  into  a  scrape  and  run  away 
from  somewhere,  for  doing  something  or  other." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Nicholas,  forcing  a  smile. 

"  That's  a  part  of  what  he  says,"  added  Mr.  Folair.  "  I 
mention  it  as  the  friend  of  both  parties,  and  in  strict  confi- 
dence, /don't  agree  with  him,  you  know.  He  says  he  takes 
Digby  to  be  more  knave  than  fool ;  and  old  Fluggers,  who  does 
the  heavy  business  you  know,  he  says  that  when  he  delivered 
messages  at  Covent  Garden  the  season  before  last,  there 
used  to  be  a  pickpocket  hovering  about  the  coach-stand  who 
had  exactly  the  face  of  Digby ;  though,  as  he  very  properly 
says,  Digby  may  not  be  the  same,  but  only  his  brother,  or 
some  near  relation." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Nicholas  again. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Folair,  with  undisturbed  calmness,  "  that's 
what  they  say.  I  thought  I'd  tell  you,  because  really  you 
ought  to  know.  Oh  !  here's  this  blessed  phenomenon  at  last. 
Ugh,  you  little  imposition,  I  should  like  to — quite  ready,  my 
darling,— humbug— Ring  up  Mrs.  G.,  and  let  the  favorite 
wake  'em  !  " 

Uttering  in  a  loud  voice  such  of  the  latter  allusions  as  were 
complimentary  to  the  unconscious  phenomenon,  and  giving 
the  rest  in  a  confidential  "  aside  "  to  Nicholas,  Mr.  Folair 
followed  the  ascent  of  the  curtain  with  his  eyes,  regarded  with 
a  sneer  the  reception  of  Miss  Crummies  as  the  Maiden,  and, 
falling  back  a  step  or  two,  to  advance  with  the  better  effect, 
uttered  a  preliminary  howl,  and  "  went  on  "  chattering  his 
teeth_and  brandishing  his  tin  tomahawk  as  the  Indian  Savage. 
/  i^  So  these  are  some  of  the  stories  they  invent  about  us,  and 
^ndy"from  mouth  to  mouth  !  "  thought  Nicholas.  '\  If  a  man 
fwould  commit  an  inexpiable  offence  against  any  society,  large 
lor  small,j£Uiim  be  successful.  They  will  forgive  him  any 
Iprime  but  that/ 

^—""Tou  surely  don't  mind  what  that  malicious  creature  says, 
Mr.  Johnson  ?  "  observed  Miss  Snevellicci  in  her  most  winning 
tones. 

"  Not  I,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  If  I  were  going  to  remain 
here,  I  might  think  it  worth  my  while  to  embroil  myself.  As 
it  is,  let  them  talk  till  they  are  hoarse.  But  here,"  added 
Nicholas,  as  Smike  approached,  "  here  comes  the  subject  of  a 
portion  of  their  good  nature,  so  let  he  and  I  say  good  night 
together."  ^, 

"  No,  I  will  not  let  either  of  you  say  anything  of  the  kmd, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


387 


returned  Miss  Snevellicci.  "  You  must  come  home  and  see 
mama  who  only  came  to  Portsmouth  to-day,  and  is  dying  to 
behold  you.     Led,  my  dear,  persuade  Mr.  Johnson." 

"Oh,  I'm  sure,"  returned  Miss  Ledrook,  with  considerable 
vivacity,  "  if  j'.?// can't  persuade  him — "  Miss  Ledrook  said 
no  more,  but  intimated,  by  a  dexterous  playfulness,  that  if 
Miss  Snevellicci  couldn't  persuade  him,  nobody  could. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lillyvick  have  taken  lodgings  in  our  house, 
and  share  our  sitting-room  for  the  present,"  said  Miss  Snevel- 
licci.    "Won't  that  induce  you?  " 

"  Surely,"  returned  Nicholas,  "  I  can  require  no  possible 
inducement  beyond  your  invitation." 

"  Oh  no  !  I  dare  say,"  rejoined  Miss  Snevellicci.  And 
Miss  Ledrook  said,  "  Upon  my  word  !  "  Upon  which  Miss 
Snevellicci  said  that  Miss  Ledrook  was  a  giddy  thing ;  and 
Miss  Ledrook  said  that  Miss  Snevellicci  needn't  color  up  quite 
so  much  ;  and  Miss  Snevellicci  beat  Miss  Ledrook,  and  Miss 
Ledrook  beat  Miss  Snevellicci. 

"  Come,"  said  Miss  Ledrook,  "  it's  high  time  we  were 
there,  or  we  shall  have  poor  Mrs.  Snevellicci  thinking  that  you 
have  run  away  with  her  daughter,  Mr.  Johnson  ;  and  then  we 
should  have  a  pretty  to-do." 

"My dear  Led,"  remonstrated  Miss  Snevellicci,  "how you 
do  talk  !  " 

Miss  Ledrook  made  no  answer,  but  taking  Smike's  arm  in 
hers,  left  her  friend  and  Nicholas  to  follow  at  their  pleasure  ; 
which  it  pleased  them,  or  rather  pleased  Nicholas,  who  had  no 
great  fancy  for  a  tete-d-tete  under  the  circumstances,  to  do  at 
once. 

There  were  not  wanting  matters  of  conversation  when 
they  reached  the  street,  for  it  turned  out  that  Miss  Snevellicci 
had  a  small  basket  to  carry  home,  and  Miss  Ledrook  a  small 
band-box,  both  containing  such  minor  articles  of  theatrical 
costume  as  the  lady  performers  usually  carried  to  and  fro 
every  evening.  Nicholas  would  insist  upon  carrying  the 
basket,  and  Miss  Snevellicci  would  insist  upon  carrj'ing  it  her- 
self, which  gave  rise  to  a  struggle,  in  which  Nicholas  captured 
the  basket  and  the  band-box  likewise.  Then  Nicholas  said, 
that  he  wondered  what  could  possibly  be  inside  the  basket, 
and  attempted  to  peep  in,  whereat  Miss  Snevellicci  screamed, 
and  declared  that  if  she  thought  he  had  seen,  she  was  sure 
she  should  faint  away.  This  declaration  was  followed  by  a 
similar  attempt  on  the  band-box,  and  similar  demonstrations 


388 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


on  the  part  of  Miss  Ledrook,  and  then  both  ladies  vowed  that 
they  wouldn't  move  a  step  further  until  Nicholas  had  prom- 
ised that  he  wouldn't  offer  to  peep  again.  At  last  Nicholas 
pledged  himself  to  betray  no  further  curiosity,  and  they  walked 
on :  both  ladies  giggling  very  much,  and  declaring  that  they 
never  had  seen  such  a  wicked  creature  in  all  their  born  clays 
— never. 

Lightening  the  way  with  such  pleasantry  as  this,  they  ar- 
rived at  the  tailor's  house  in  no  time  ;  and  here  they  made 
quite  a  little  party,  there  being  present  besides  Mr.  Lillyvick 
and  Mrs.  Lillyvick,  not  only  Miss  Snevellicci's  mama,  but  her 
papa  also.  And  an  uncommonly  fine  man  Miss  Snevellicci's 
papa  was,  with  a  hook  nose,  and  a  white  forehead,  and  curly 
black  hair,  and  high  cheek  bones,  and  altogether  quite  a 
handsome  face,  only  a  little  pimply  as  though  with  drinking. 
He  had  a  very  broad  chest  had  Miss  Snevellicci's  papa,  and 
he  wore  a  threadbare  blue  dress  coat  buttoned  with  gilt  but- 
tons tight  across  it ;  and  he  no  sooner  saw  Nicholas  come 
into  the  room,  than  he  whipped  the  two  forefingers  of  his 
right  hand  in  between  the  two  centre  buttons,  and  sticking  his 
other  arm  gracefully  a-kimbo,  seemed  to  say,  "  Now,  here  I 
am,  my  buck,  and  what  have  you  got  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

Such  was,  and  in  such  an  attitude  sat  Miss  Snevellicci's 
papa,  who  had  been  in  the  profession  ever  since  he  had  first 
played  the  ten-year-old  imps  in  the  Christmas  pantomimes  ;  who 
could  sing  a  little,  dance  a  little,  fence  a  little,  act  a  little,  and 
do  everything  a  little,  but  not  much  ;  who  had  been  sometimes 
in  the  ballet,  and  sometimes  in  the  chorus,  at  ever)^  theatre  in 
London  ;  who  was  always  selected  in  virtue  of  his  figure  to 
play  the  militar)^  visitors  and  the  speechless  noblemen  ;  who 
always  wore  a  smart  dress,  and  came  on  arm-in-arm  with  a 
smart  lady  in  short  petticoats, — and  always  did  it  it  too  with 
such  an  air  that  people  in  the  pit  had  been  several  times  known 
to  cry  out  "  Bravo !  "  under  the  impression  that  he  was  some- 
body. Such  was  Miss  Snevellicci's  papa,  upon  whom  some 
envious  persons  cast  the  imputation  that  he  occasionally  beat 
Miss  Snevellicci's  mama,  who  was  still  a  dancer,  with  a  neat 
little  figure  and  some  remains  of  good  looks,  and  who  now 
sat,  as  she  danced, — being  rather  too  old  for  the  full  glare  of 
the  foot  lights-, — in  the  back  ground. 

To  these  good  people  Nicholas  was  presented  with  much 
formality.  The  introduction  being  completed,  Miss  Snevel- 
licci's  papa  "(wfro"was  scented  with  rum  and  water)  said"  that 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  389 

he  was  delighted  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  gentleman  so 
highly  talented  ;  and  furthermore  remarked,  that  there  hadn't 
been  such  a  hit  made — no,  not  since  the  first  appearance  of 
his  friend  Mr.  Glavormelly,  at  the  Coburg. 

"  You  have  seen  him,  sir  ?  "  said  Miss  Snevellicci's  papa. 

"No,  really  I  never  did,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  You  never  saw  my  friend  Glavormelly,  sir  !  "  said  Miss 
Snevellicci's  papa.  "  Then  you  have  never  seen  acting  yet. 
If  he  had  lived " 

"  Oh,  he  is  dead,  is  he  }  "  interrupted  Nicholas. 

"  He  is,"  said  Mr.  Snevellicci.  "  but  he  isn't  in  Westmintser 

Abbey,  more's  the  shame.     He  was  a .     Well,  no  matter. 

He  is  gone  to  that  bourne  from  whence  no  traveller  returns. 
I  hope  he  is  appreciated  titer c.^^ 

So  saying  Miss  Snevellicci's  papa  rubbed  the  tip  of  his 
nose  with  a  very  yellow  silk  handkerchief,  and  gave  the  com- 
pany to  understand  that  these  recollections  overcame  him. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Lillyvick,"  said  Nicholas,  "  and  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,  sir,"  replied  the  collector.  "  There  is  nothing 
like  the  married  state,  sir,  depend  upon  it." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Nicholas,  laughing. 

"  Nothing  like  it,"  sir,  replied  Mr.  Lillyvick  solemnly. 
"  How  do  you  think,"  whispered  the  collector,  drawing  him 
aside,   "  How  do  you  think  she  looks  to-night  ? " 

"  As  handsome  as  ever,"  replied  Nicholas,  glancing  at  the 
late  Miss  Petowker. 

''  Why,  there's  a  air  about  her,  sir,"  whispered  the  collec- 
tor, "  that  I  never  saw  in  anybody.  Look  at  her,  now  she 
moves  to  put  the  kettle  on.  There  !  Isn't  it  fascination, 
sir?" 

"  You're  a  lucky  man,"  said  Nicholas. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  rejoined  the  collector,  "No.  Do  you 
think  I  am  though,  eh  ?  Perhaps  I  may  be,  perhaps  I  may 
be.  I  say,  I  couldn't  have  done  much  better  if  I  had  been  a 
young  man,  could  I  }  You  couldn't  have  done  much  better 
yourself,  could  you — eh — could  you  ?  "  With  such  inquiries, 
and  many  more  such,  Mr.  Lillyvick  jerked  his  elbow  into 
Nicholas's  side,  and  chuckled  till  his  face  became  quite  puF- 
ple  in  the  attempt  to  keep  down  his  satisfaction. 

By  this  time  the  cloth  had  been  laid  under  the  joint  super- 
intendence of  all  the  ladies,  upon  two  tables  put  together,  one 
being  high  and  narrow,  and  the  other  low  and  broad.  There 
were  oysters  at  the  top,  sausages  at  the  bottom,  a  pair  of  snuf- 


350  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

fers  in  the  centre,  and  baked  potatoes  wherever  it  was  most 
convenient  to  put  them.  Two  additional  chairs  were  brought 
in  from  the  bedroom  ;  Miss  SnevelUccl  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  and  Mr.  Lillyvick  at  the  foot  ;  and  Nicholas  had  not 
only  the  honor  of  sitting  next  Miss  Snevellicci,  but  of  having 
Miss  Snevellicci's  mama  on  his  right  hand,  and  Miss  Snevel- 
licci's  papa  over  the  way.  In  short,  he  was  the  hero  of  the 
feast ;  and  when  the  table  was  cleared  and  something  warm 
introduced,  Miss  Snevellicci's  papa  got  up  and  proposed  his 
health  in  a  speech  containing  such  affecting  allusions  to  his 
coming  departure,  that  Miss  Snevellicci  wept,  and  was  com- 
pelled to  retire  into  the  bedroom. 

"  Hush  !  Don't  take  any  notice  of  it,"  said  Miss  Le- 
drook,  peeping  in  from  the  bedroom.  "  Say,  when  she  comes 
back,  that  she  exerts  herself  too  much." 

Miss  Ledrook  eked  out  this  speech  with  so  many  myste- 
rious nods  and  frowns  before  she  shut  the  door  again,  that  a 
profound  silence  came  upon  all  the  company,  during  which 
Miss  Snevellicci's  papa  looked  very  big  indeed — several  sizes 
larger  than  life — at  everybody  in  turn,  but  particularly  at 
Nicholas,  and  kept  on  perpetually  emptying  his  tumbler  and 
filling  it  again,  until  the  ladies  returned  in  a  cluster,  with 
Miss  Snevellicci  among  them. 

"You  needn't  alarm  yourself  a  bit,  Mr.  Snevellicci,"  said 
Mrs.  Lillyvick.  "  She  is  only  a  little  weak  and  nervous ;  she 
has  been  so  ever  since  the  morning." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Snevellicci,  "  that's  all,  is  it .?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  that's  all.  Don't  make  a  fuss  about  it,"  cried 
all  the  ladies  together. 

Now  this  was  not  exactly  the  kind  of  reply  suited  to  Mr. 
Snevellici's  importance  as  a  man  and  a  father,  so  he  picked 
out  the  unfortunate  Mrs.  Snevellicci,  and  asked  her  what  the 
devil  she  meant  by  talking  to  him  in  that  way. 

"  Dear  me,  my  dear !  "  said  Mrs.  Snevellicci. 

"  Don't  call  me  your  dear,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Snevellicci, 
"if  you  please." 

"  Pray,  pa,  don't,"  interposed  Miss  Snevellicci. 

"  Don't  what,  my  child  ?  " 

"  Talk  in  that  way." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Mr.  Snevellicci.  "  I  hope  you  don't 
suppose  there's  anybody  here  who  is  to  prevent  my  talking  as 
I  like?" 

"Nobody  wants  to,  pa,"  rejoined  his  daughter. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  3^1 

"  Nobody  would  if  they  did  want  to,"  said  Mr.  Snevellicci. 
"  I  am  not  ashamed  of  myself.  Snevellicci  is  my  name.  I'm 
to  be  found  in  Broad  Court,  Bow  Street,  when  I'm  in  town. 
If  I'm  not  at  home,  let  any  man  ask  for  me  at  the  stage  door. 
Damme,  they  know  me  at  the  stage  door  I  suppose  ?  Most 
men  have  seen  my  portrait  at  the  cigar  shop  round  the  corner. 
I've  been  mentioned  in  the  newspapers  before  now,  haven't 
I  ?  Talk  !  I'll  tell  you  what  ;  if  I  found  out  that  any  man  had 
been  tampering  with  the  affections  of  my  daughter,  I  wouldn't 
talk.      I'd  astonish  him  without  talking  ;  that's  my  way." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Snevellicci  struck  the  palm  of  his  left  hand 
three  smart  blows  with  his  clenched  fist ;  pulled  a  phantom 
nose  with  his  right  thumb  and  fore  finger,  and  swallowed 
another  glassfull  at  a  draught.  "That's  my  way,"  repeated 
Mr.  Snevellicci. 

Most  public  characters  have  their  failings  :  and  the  truth 
IS  that  Mr.  bneveiiicci  was  a  little  ariclicted  to  drmkinp^ :  or. 
if  the  whole  truth  must  be  told,  that  he  was  scarcely  ever 
sober.  He  knewTn  his  cups  three  distinct  stages  of  intpxica- 
~tion,— tRe  "3ighifie d — the  quarrelsome — the  amorous.  .When 
professToiiaTIy  engaged  he  never  got  beyond  the  dignified  ;  in 
private  circles  he  went  through  all  three,  passing  from  one  to 
another  with  a  rapidity  of  transition  often  rather  perplexing 
to  those  who  had  not  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance. 

Thus  Mr.  Snevellicci  had  no  sooner  swallowed  another 
glassful  than  he  smiled  upon  all  present  in  happy  forgetfulness 
of  having  exhibited  symptoms  of  pugnacity,  and  proposed 
"  The  ladies  !  Bless  their  hearts  !  "  in  a  most  vivacious  man- 
ner. 

"  I  love  'em,"  said  Mr.  Snevellicci,  looking  round  the  ta- 
ble, "I  love  'em,  every  one." 

"Not  every  one,"  reasoned  Mr.  Lillyvick.  mildly. 

"Yes,  every  one,"  repeated  Mr.  Snevellicci. 

"That  would  include  the  married  ladies,  you  know,"  said 
Mr.  Lillyvick. 

"  I  love  them  too,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Snevellicci. 

The  collector  looked  into  the  surrounding  faces  with  an 
aspect  of  grave  astonishment,  seeming  to  say,  "  This  is  a 
nice  man  !  "  and  appeared  a  little  surprised  that  Mrs.  Lilly- 
vick's  manner  yielded  no  evidences  of  horror  and  indignation. 

"One  good  turn  deserves  another,"  said  Mr.  Snevellicci. 
"I  love  them  and  they  love  me."  And  as  if  this  avowal 
were  not  made  in  sufficient  disregard  and  defiance  of  all  moral 


392  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

obligations,  what  did  Mr.  Snevellicci  do  ?  He  winked — ^wink- 
ed, openly  and  undisguisedly ;  winked  with  his  right  eye — 
upon  Henrietta  Lillyvick  ! 

The  collector  fell  back  in  his  chair  in  the  intensity  of  his 
astonishment.  If  anybody  had  winked  at  her  as  Henrietta 
Petowker,  it  would  have  been  indecorous  in  the  last  degree  ; 
but  as  Mrs.  Lillyvick  !  While  he  thought  of  it  in  a  cold  per- 
spiration, and  wondered  whether  it  was  possible  that  he  could 
be  dreaming,  Mr.  Snevellicci,  repeated  the  wink,  and  drinking 
to  Mrs.  Lillyvick  in  dumb  show,  actually  blew  her  a  kiss  ! 
Mr.  Lillyvick  left  his  chair,  walked  straight  up  to  the  other 
end  of  the  table,  and  fell  upon  him — literally  fell  upon  him — 
instantaneously.  Mr.  Lillyvick  was  no  light  weight,  and  con- 
sequently when  he  fell  upon  Mr.  Snevellicci,  Mr.  Snevellicci 
fell  under  the  table.  Mr.  Lillyvick  followed  him,  and  the 
ladies  screamed. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  the  men!  Are  they  mad?" 
cried  Nicholas,  diving  under  the  table,  dragging  up  the  col- 
lector by  main  force,  and  thrusting  him,  all  doubled  up,  into 
a  chair,  as  if  he  had  been  a  stuffed  figure.  "  What  do  you 
mean  to  do  ?  What  do  you  want  to  do  ?  What  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  " 

While  Nicholas  raised  up  the  collector,  Smike  had  per- 
formed the  same  office  for  Mr.  Snevellicci,  who  now  regarded 
his  late  adversary  in  tipsy  amazement. 

"  Look  here,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Lillyvick,  pointing  to  his 
astonished  wife,  "  here  is  purity  and  elegance  combined,  whose 
feelings  have  been  outraged — violated,  sir !  " 

"  Lor,  what  nonsense  he  talks  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lillyvick 
in  answer  to  the  inquiring  look  of  Nicholas.  "  Nobody  has 
said  anything  to  me." 

"  Said,  Henrietta  !  "  cried  the  collector.  "  Didn't  I  see 
him — "  Mr.  Lillyvick  couldn't  bring  himself  to  utter  the 
word,  but  he  counterfeited  the  motion  of  the  eye. 

"  Well  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Lillyvick.  "  Do  you  suppose  nobody 
is  ever  to  look  at  me  ?  A  pretty  thing  to  be  married  indeed, 
if  that  was  law !  " 

"  You  didn't  mind  it  ? "  cried  the  collector, 

"  Mind  it ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Lillyvick  contemptuously. 
"  You  ought  to  go  down  on  your  knees  and  beg  everybody's 
pardon,  that  you  ought." 

"  Pardon,  my  dear  ?  "  said  the  dismayed  collector. 

"Yes,  and  mine  first,"  replied  Mrs,  Lillyvick.     "Do  you 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  393 

suppose  /  ain't  the  best  judge  of  what's  proper  and  what's 
improper  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  cried  all  the  ladies.  "  Do  you  suppose  we 
shouldn't  be  the  first  to  speak,  if  there  was  anything  that 
ought  to  be  taken  notice  of  ?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  ///^^  don't  know,  sir  ?  "  said  Miss  Snevel- 
licci's  papa,  pulling  up  his  collar,  and  muttering  something 
about  a  punching  of  heads,  and  being  only  withheld  by  con- 
siderations of  age.  With  which  Miss  Snevellicci's  papa  looked 
steadily  anrd  sternly  at  Mr.  Lillyvick  for  some  seconds,  and 
then  rising  deliberately  from  his  chair,  kissed  the  ladies  all 
round,  beginning  with  Mrs.  Lillyvick. 

The  unhappy  collector  looked  piteously  at  his  wife,  as  if 
to  see  whether  there  was  any  one  trait  of  Miss  Petowker  left 
in  Mrs.  Lillyvick,  and  finding  too  surely  that  there  was  not, 
begged  pardon  of  all  the  company  with  great  humility,  and 
sat  down  such  a  crest-fallen,  dispirited,  disenchanted  man, 
that  despite  all  his  selfishness  and  dotage,  he  was  quite  an 
object  of  compassion. 

Miss  Snevellicci's  papa  being  greatly  exalted  by  this 
triumph,  and  incontestable  proof  of  his  popularity  with  the 
fair  sex,  quickly  grew  convivial,  not  to  say  uproarious  ;  volun- 
teering more  than  one  song  of  no  inconsiderable  length,  and 
resralins:  the  social  circle  between-whiles  with  recollections  of 
divers  splendid  women  who  had  been  supposed  to  entertam  a 
passion  for  himself,  several  of  whom  he  toasted  by  name, 
taking  occasion  to  remark  at  the  same  time  that  if  he  had 
been  a  little  more  alive  to  his  own  interest,  he  might  have 
been  rolling  at  that  moment  in  his  chariot-and-four.  These 
reminiscences  appeared  to  awaken  no  very  torturing  pangs  in 
the  breast  of  Mrs.  Snevellicci,  who  was  sufficiently  occupied 
in  descanting  to  Nicholas  upon  the  manifold  accomplishments 
and  merits  of  her  daughter.  Nor  was  the  young  lady  herself 
at  all  behind-hand  in  displaying  her  choicest  allurements  ;  but 
these,  heightened  as  they  were  by  the  artifices  of  Miss  Le- 
drook,  had  .nacHegf  whatever  in  increasing  the  attention  of 
Nicholas,  wlm,  with  the  precedent  ol  Miss  Squeers  still  fresh 
in  his  memory,  steadily  resisted  every  fascination,  and  placed 
so  strict  a  guaixl  upon  his  behavior.  tha,t  when  he  had  taken 
his  leave  the  ladies  were  unanimous  in  pronouncing  liim  quite 
a  monster  of  insensibility. 

Next  day  the  posters  appeared  in   due  course,   and  the 
public  were  informed,  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  and  in 


394 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


letters  afflicted  with  every  possible  variation  of  spinal  deformity, 
how  that  Mr.  Johnson  would  have  the  honor  of  making  his 
last  appearance  that  evening,  and  how  that  an  early  applica- 
tion for  places  was  requested,  in  consequence  of  the  extraor- 
dinary overflow  attendant  on  his  performances. ;  It  being  a 
remarkable  fact  in  theatrical  history,  but  one  long^ince  estab- 
lished beyond  dispute,  that  it  is  a  hopeless  endeavor  to  attract 
people  to  a  theatre  unless  the.y_,can  be  first  brought  to  believe 
that  they  will  never  get  into  it. 

Nicholas  was  somewhat  at  a  loss,  on  entering*the  theatre 
at  night,  to  account  for  the  unusual  perturbation  and  excite- 
ment visible  in  the  countenances  of  all  the  company,  but  he 
was  not  long  in  doubt  as  to  the  cause,  for  before  he  could 
make  any  inquiry  respecting  it  Mr.  Crummies  approached, 
and  in  an  agitated  tone  of  voice,  informed  him  that  there  was 
a  London  manager  in  the  boxes. 

"  It's  the  phenomenon,  depend  upon  it,  sir,"  said  Crummies, 
dragging  Nicholas  to  the  little  hole  in  the  curtain  that  he 
might  look  through  at  the  London  manager.  "  I  have  not 
the  smallest  doubt  it's  the  fame  of  the  phenomenon — that's 
the  man  ;  him  in  the  great-coat  and  no  shirt-collar.  She  shall 
have  ten  pound  a-week,  Johnson  ;  she  shall  not  appear  on  the 
London  boards  for  a  farthing  less.  They  shan't  engage  her 
either,  unless  they  engage  Mrs.  Crummies  too — twenty  pound 
a-week  for  the  pair  ;  or  I'll  tell  you  what,  I'll  throw  in  myself 
and  the  two  boys,  and  they  shall  have  the  family  for  thirty.  I 
can't  say  fairer  than  that.  They  must  take  us  all,  if  none  of 
us  will  go  without  the  others.  That's  the  way  some  of  the 
London  people  do,  and  it  always  answers.  Thirty  pound  a- 
week.     It's  too  cheap,  Johnson.     It's  dirt  cheap." 

Nicholas  replied,  that  it  certainly  was  ;  and  Mr.  Vincent 
Crummies  taking  several  huge  pinches  of  snuff  to  compose 
his  feelings,  hurried  away  to  tell  Mrs.  Crummies  that  he  had 
quite  settled  the  only  terms  that  could  be  accepted,  and  had 
resolved  not  to  abate  one  single  farthins:. 

When  everybody  was  dressed  and  the  curtain  went  up,  the 
excitement  occasioned  by  the  presence  of  the  London  manager 
increased  a  thousand-fold.  Everybody  happened  to  know 
that  the  London  manager  had  come  down  specially  to  witness 
his  or  her  own  performance,  and  all  were  in  a  flutter  of  anxiety 
and  expectation.  Some  of  those  who  were  not  on  in  the 
first  scene,  hurried  to  the  wings,  and  there  stretched  their 
necks  to  have  a  peep  at  him  ;  others  stole  up  into  the  two 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


395 


little  private  boxes  over  the  stage-doors,  and  from  that  posi- 
tion reconnoitered  the  London  manager.  Once  the  London 
manager  was  seen  to  smile.  He  smiled  at  the  comic  country- 
man's pretending  to  catch  a  blue-bottle,  while  Mrs.  Crummies 
was  making  her  greatest  effect.  "  Very  good,  my  fine  fel- 
low," said  Mr.  Crummies,  shaking  his  fist  at  the  comic 
countryman  when  he  came  off,  "  you  leave  this  company  next 
Saturday  night." 

In  the  same  way,  everybody  who  was  on  the  stage  beheld 
no  audience  but  one  individual  ;  everybody  played  to  the 
London  manager.  When  Mr.  Lenville  in  a  sudden  burst  of 
passion  called  the  emperor  a  miscreant,  and  then  biting  his 
glove,  said,  "  But  I  must  dissemble,"  instead  of  looking 
gloomily  at  the  boards  and  so  waiting  for  his  cue,  as  is  proper 
in  such  cases,  he  kept  his  eye  fixed  upon  the  London  man- 
ager. When  Miss  Eravassa  sang  her  song  at  her  lover,  who 
according  to  custom  stood-  ready  to  shake  hands  with  her  be- 
tween the  verses,  they  looked,  not  at  each  other  but  at  the 
London  manager.  Mr.  Cnmimles  died  point  blank  at  him  ; 
and  when  the  two  guards  came  in  to  take  the  body  off  after  a 
very  hard  death,  it  was  seen  to  open  its  eyes  and  glance  at 
the  London  manager.  At  length  the  London  manager  was 
discovered  to  be  asleep,  and  shortly  after  that  he  woke  up  and 
went  away,  whereupon  all  the  company  fell  foul  of  the  un- 
happy comic  countryman,  declaring  that  his  buffonery  was  the 
sole  cause ;  and  Mr.  Crummies  said,  that  he  had  put  up  with 
it  a  long  time,  but  that  he  really  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer, 
and  therefore  would  feel  obliged  by  his  looking  out  for  another 
engagement. 

All  this  was  the  occasion  of  much  amusement  to  Nicholas, 
whose  only  feeling  upon  the  subject  was  one  of  sincere  satis- 
faction that  the  great  man  went  away  before  he  appeared.  He 
went  through  his  part  in  the  two  last  pieces  as  briskly  as  he 
could,  and  having  been  received  with  unbounded  favor  and 
unprecedented  applause — so  said  the  bills  for  next  day,  which 
had  been  printed  an  hour  or  two  before — he  took  Smike's 
awrr-sud  walked  home  to  bed. 

IWith  the  post  next  morning  came  a  letter  from  Newman 
Noggs,  very  inky,  very  short,  very  dirty,  ver^'  small,  and  very 
mysterious,  urging  Nicholas  to  return  to  London  ipjtantly  ; 
not  to  lose  an  instant ;  to  be  there  that  night  if  possible. 

"  I  will,"  said  Nicholas.  "  Heaven  knows  I  have  remained 
here  for  the  best,  and  sorely  against  my  own  will ;  but  even 


39^ 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


now  I  may  have  dallied  too  long.  What  can  have  happened  ? 
Smike,  my  good  fellow,  here — take  my  purse.  Put  our  things 
together,  and  pay  what  little  debts  we  owe — quick,  and  we 
shall  be  in  time  for  the  morning  coach.  I  will  only  tell  them 
that  we  are  going,  and  will  return  to  you  immediately." 

So  saying,  he  took  his  hat,  and  hurrying  away  to  the 
lodgings  of  Mr.  Crummies,  applied  his  hand  to  the  knocker 
with  such  hearty  good-will,  that  he  awakened  that  gentleman, 
who  was  still  in  bed,  and  caused  Mr.  Bulph  the  pilot  to  take 
his  morning's  pipe  very  nearly  out  of  his  mouth  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  surprise. 

The  door  being  opened,  Nicholas  ran  up  stairs  without 
any  ceremony,  and  bursting  into  the  darkened  sitting-room 
on  the  one  pair  front,  found  that  the  two  Master  Crummleses 
had  sprung  out  of  the  sofa-bedstead  and  were  putting  on  their 
clothes  with  great  rapidity,  under  the  impression  that  it  was 
the  middle  of  the  night,  and  the  next  house  was  on  fire. 

Before  he  could  undeceive  them,  Mr.  Crummies  came 
down  in  a  flannel-gown  and  night-cap  ;  and  to  him  Nicholas 
briefly  explained  that  circumstances  had  occurred  which  ren- 
dered it  necessary  for  him  to  repair  to  London  immediately, 

"  So  good-by,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "good-by,  good-by." 

He  was  half-way  down  stairs  before  Mr.  Crummies  had 
sufficiently  recovered  his  surprise  to  gasp  out  something  about 
the  posters. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  replied  Nicholas,  "  Set  whatever  I  may 
have  earned  this  week  against  them,  or  if  that  will  not  repay 
you,  say  at  once  what  will.     Quick,  quick." 

"We'll  cry  quits  about  that,"  returned  Crummies.  "But 
can't  we  have  one  last  night  more  ?  " 

"  Not  an  hour — not  a  minute,"  replied  Nicholas,  im- 
patiently. 

"  Won't  you  stop  to  say  something  to  Mrs.  Crummies  ?  " 
asked  the  manager,  following  him  down  to  the  door. 

"  I  couldn't  stop  if  it  were  to  prolong  my  life  a  score  of 
years,"  rejoined  Nicholas.  "  Here,  take  my  hand,  and  with 
it  my  hearty  thanks. — Oh  !  that  I  should  have  been  fooling 
here  !  " 

Accompariying  these  words  with  an  impatient  stamp  upon 
the  ground,  he  tore  himself  from  the  manager's  detaining 
grasp,  and  darting  rapidly  down  the  street  was  out  of  sight  in 
an  instant. 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  looking  wist- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  397 

fully  towards  the  point  at  which  he  had  just  disappeared;  "if 
he  only  acted  like  that,  what  a  deal  of  money  he'd  draw  !  He 
should  have  kept  upon  this  circuit ;  he'd  have  been  ver}^  use- 
ful to  me.  But  he  don't  know  what's  good  for  him.  He  is 
an  impetuous  youth.     Young  men  are  rash,  \qx\  rash." 

Mr.  Crummies  being  in  a  moralizing  mood,  might  possibly 
have  moralized  for  some  minutes  longer  if  he  had  not  mechan- 
ically put  his  hand  towards  his  w^aistcoat  pocket,  w^here  he 
was  accustomed  to  keep  his  snuff.  The  absence  of  any 
pocket  at  all  in  the  usual  direction,  suddenly  recalled  to  his 
recollection  the  fact  that  he  had  no  waistcoat  on  ;  and  this 
leading  him  to  a  contemplation  of  the  extreme  scantiness  of 
his  attire,  he  shut  the  door  abruptly,  and  retired  up  stairs 
with  great  precipitation. 

Smike  had  made  good  speed  while  Nicholas  was  absent, 
and  with  his  help  e\erything  was  soon  ready  for  their  depart- 
ure. They  scarcely  stopped  to  take  a  morsel  of  breakfast, 
and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  arrived  at  the  coach-office  : 
quite  out  of  breath  with  the  haste  they  had  made  to  reach  it 
in  time.  There  were  yet  a  few  minutes  to  spare,  so,  having 
secured  the  places,  Nicholas  hurried  into  a  slopseller's  hard 
by,  and  bought  Smike  a  great-coat.  It  would  have  been 
rather  large  for  a  substantial  yeoman,  but  the  shopman  aver- 
ring (and  with  considerable  truth)  that  it  was  a  most  uncom- 
mon fit,  Nicholas  would  have  purchased  it  in  his  impatience 
if  it  had  been  twice  the  size. 

As  they  hurried  up  to  the  coach,  which  was  now  in  the 
open  street  and  all  ready  for  starting,  Nicholas  was  not  a  little 
astonished  to  find  himself  suddenly  clutched  in  a  close  and 
violent  embrace,  which  nearly  took  him  off  his  legs  ;  nor  was 
his  amazement  at  all  lessened  by  hearing  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Crummies  exclaim,  "  It  is  he — my  friend,  my  friend  !  " 

"  Bless  my  heart,"  cried  Nicholas,  struggling  in  the  mana- 
ger's arms,  "  what  are  you  about  ?  " 

The  manager  made  no  reply,  but  strained  him  to  his  breast 
again,  exclaiming  as  he  did  so,  "  Farewell,  my  noble,  my  lion- 
hearted  boy  ! " 

In  fact,  Mr.  Crummies,  who  could  never  lose  any  oppor- 
tunit}^  for  professional  display,  had  turned  out  for  the  express 
purpose  of  taking  a  public  farewell  of  Nicholas  ;  and  to  ren- 
der it  the  more  imposing,  he  was  now,  to  that  young  gentle- 
man's most  profound  annoyance,  inflicting  upon  him  a  rapid 
succession  of  stage  embraces,  which,  as  ever}-body  knows,  are 


398 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


performed  by  the  embracer's  laying  his  or  her  chin  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  object  of  affection,  and  looking  over  it.  This 
Mr.  Crummies  did  in  the  highest  style  of  melodrama,  pouring 
forth  at  the  same  time  all  the  most  dismal  forms  of  farewell 
he  could  think  of,  out  of  the  stock  pieces.  Nor  was  this  all, 
for  the  elder  Master  Crummies  was  going  through  a  similar 
ceremony  with  Smike  ;  while  Master  Percy  Crummies,  with  a 
very  little  second-hand  camlet  cloak,  worn  theatrically  over 
his  left  shoulder,  stood  by,  in  the  attitude  of  an  attendant 
officer,  waiting  to  convey  the  two  victims  to  the  scaffold. 

The  lookers-on  laughed  very  heartily,  and  as  it  was  as 
well  to  put  a  good  face  upon  the  matter,  Nicholas  laughed  too 
when  he  had  succeeded  in  disengaging  himself ;  and  rescuing 
the  astonished  Smike,  climbed  up  to  the  coach  roof  after  him, 
and  kissed  his  hand  in  honor  of  the  absent  Mrs.  Crummies  as 
they  rolled  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


OF  RALPH  NICKLEBY  AND  NEWMAN  NOGGS,  AND  SOME  WISE 
PRECAUTIONS,  THE  SUCCESS  OR  FAILURE  OF  WHICH  WILL 
APPEAR  IN  THE  SEQUEL. 

In  blissful  unconsciousness  that  his  nephew  was  hastening 
at  the  utmost  speed  of  four  good  horses  towards  his  sphere  of 
action,  and  that  every  passing  minute  diminished  the  distance 
between  them,  Ralph  Nickleby  sat  that  morning  occupied  in 
his  customary  avocations,  and  yet  unable  to  prevent  his 
thoughts  wandering  from  time  to  time  back  to  the  interview 
which  had  taken  place  between  himself  and  his  niece  on  the 
previous  day.  At  such  intervals,  after  a  few  moments  of  ab- 
straction, Ralph  would  mutter  some  peevish  interjection,  and 
apply  himself  with  renewed  steadiness  of  purpose  to  the  ledger 
before  him,  but  again  and  again  the  same  train  of  thought  came 
back  despite  all  his  efforts  to  prevent  it,  confusing  him  in  his  cal- 
culations, and  utterly  distracting  his  attention  from  the  figures 
over  which  he  bent.  At  length  Ralph  laid  down  his  pen,  and 
threw  himself  back  in  his  chair  as  though  he  had  made  up  his 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  399 

mind  to  allow  the  obtrusive  current  of  reflection  to  take  its 
own  course,  and,  by  giving  it  full  scope,  to  rid  himself  of  it 
effectually. 

"  I  am  not  a  man  to  be  moved  by  a  pretty  face,"  muttered 
Ralph  sternly.  "  There  is  a  grinning  skull  beneath  it,  and 
men  like  me  who  look  and  work  below  the  surface  see  that, 
and  not  its  delicate  covering.  And  yet  I  almost  like  thegirl, 
or  should  if  she  had  been  less  proudly  and  squeamishly 
brought  up.  If  the  boy  .were  drowned  or  hanged,_  and  the 
mother  dead,  thisliouse  should  be  her  home.  I  wish  they 
wefe,"with  all  my  soul." 

Notwithstanding  the  deadly  ^hatred  which  Ralph  felt 
towards  Nicholas,  and  th"e~l)itter'  contempt  with  which  he 
sneered  at  poor  Mrs.  Nickleby — notwithstanding  the  baseness 
with  which  he  had  behaved,  and  was  then  behaving,  and  would 
behave  again  if  his  interest  prompted  him,  towards  Kate  her- 
self— still  tliere  was,  strange  though  it  may  seem,  something 
humanizing  and  e\-en  gentle  in  his  thoughts  at  that  moni.ent,,^. 
"^e  thought  of  what  his  home  might  be  if  Kate  were  there  ; 
he  placed  her  in  the  empty  chair,  looked  upon  her,  heard  her 
speak  ;  he  felt  again  upon  his  arm  the  gentle  pressure  of  the 
trembling  hand  ;  he  strewed  his  costly  rooms  with  the  hun- 
dred silent  tokens  of  feminine  presence  and  occupation  ;  he 
came  back  again  to  the  cold  fireside  and  the  silent  dreary 
splendor  ;  and  in  that  one  glimpse  of  a  better  nature,  born  as, 
it  was  in  selfish  thought,  the  rich  man  felt  himself  friendXess, 
childless,  and  alone.  Gold,,  for  the  insknt,  lost  its  lustre  in 
Ills"  c\-es7 ft  >r' there  were  countless  treasures  of  the  heart  which 
iFcrnilJ  ne\er  purchase. 

■ A  \  ery  sliglit  circumstance  was  sufficient  to   banish  such 

reflection's  from  the  mind  of  such  a  man.  As  Ralph  looked 
vacantly  out  across  the  yard  towards  the  window  of  the  other 
office,  he  became  suddenly  aware  of  the  earnest  observation 
of  Newman  Noggs,  who  with  his  red  nose  almost  touching  the 
glass,  feigned  to  be  mending  a  pen  with  a  rusty  fragment  of  a 
knife,  but  was  in  reality  staring  at  his  employer  with  a  counte- 
nance of  the  closest  and  most  eager  scrutiny. 

Ralph  exchanged  his  dreamy  posture  for  his  accustomed 
business  attitude  :  the  face  of  Newman  disappeared,  and  the 
train  of  thought  took  to  flight,  all  simultaneously  and  in  an 
instant. 

After  a  few  minutes,  Ralph  rang  his  bell.  Newman  an- 
swered the   summons,  and   Ralph  raised  his  eyes  steathily  to 


400  YICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

his  face,  as  if  he  almost  feared  to  read  there,  a  knowledge  of 
his  recent  thoughts. 

There  was  not  the  smallest  speculation,  however,  in  the 
countenance  of  Newman  Noggs.  If  it  be  possible  to  imagine 
a  man  with  two  e3'es  in  his  head,  and  both  wide  open,  looking 
in  no  direction  whatever,  and  seeing  nothing,  Newman  ap- 
peared to  be  that  man  while  Ralph  Nickleby  regarded  him. 

"  How  now  ?  "  growled  Ralph. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Newman,  throwing  some  intelligence  into  his 
eyes  all  at  once,  and  dropping  them  on  his  master,  "  I  thought 
you  rang."  With  which  laconic  remark  Newman  turned 
round  and  hobbled  away. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Ralph. 

Newman  stopped  ;  not  at  all  disconcerted. 

•'  I  did  ring." 

"  I  knew  you  did." 

"  Then  why  do  you  ofifer  to  go  if  you  know  that }  " 

"  I  thought  you  rang  to  say  you  didn't  ring,"  replied  New- 
man.    "  You  often  do." 

"  How  dare  you  pry,  and  peer,  and  stare  at  me,  sirrah  ?  " 
demanded  Ralph. 

"  Stare  !  "  cried  Newman,  "  at  jou  !  Ha,  ha  !  "  which  was 
all  the  explanation  Newman  deigned  to  offer. 

"Be  careful,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  looking  steadily  at  him. 
"  Let  me  have  no  drunken  fooling  here.  Do  you  see  this 
parcel  ?  " 

"  It's  big  enough,"  rejoined  Newman. 

"  Carry  it  into  the  City  ;  to  Cross,  in  Broad  Street,  and 
leave  it  there — quick.     Do  you  hear  ?  " 

Newman  gave  a  dogged  kind  of  nod  to  express  an  affirma- 
tive reply,  and,  leaving  the  room  for  a  few  seconds,  returned 
with  his  hat.  Having  made  various  ineffective  attempts  to  fit 
the  parcel  (which  was  some  two  feet  square)  into  the  crown 
thereof,  Newman  took  it  under  his  arm,  and  after  putting  on 
his  fingerless  gloves  with  great  precision  and  nicety,  keeping 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  all  the  time,  he  ad- 
justed his  hat  upon  his  head  with  as  much  care,  real  or  pre- 
tended, as  if  it  were  a  bran-new  one  of  the  most  expensive 
quality,  and  at  last  departed  on  his  errand. 

He  executed  his  commission  with  great  promptitude  and 
despatch,  only  calling  at  one  public-house  for  half  a  minute, 
and  even  that  might  be  said  to  be  in  his  way,  for  he  went  in 
at  one  door  and  came  out  at  the  other  ;  but  as   he   returned 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  ^Oj 

and  had  got  so  far  homewards  as  the  Strand,  Newman  began 
to  loiter  with  the  uncertain  air  of  a  man  who  has  not  quite 
made  up  his  mind  whether  to  halt  or  go  straight  forwards. 
After  a  very  short  consideration,  the  former  inclination  pre- 
vailed, and  making  towards  the  point  he  had  had  in  his  mind, 
Newman  knocked  a  modest  double-knock,  or  rather  a  nervous 
single  one,  at  Miss  La  Creevy's  door. 

It  was  opened  by  a  strange  servant,  on  whom  the  odd  figure 
of  the  visitor  did  not  appear  to  make  the  most  favorable  im- 
pression possible,  inasmuch  as  she  no  sooner  saw  him  than 
she  very  nearly  closed  it,  and  placing  herself  in  the  narrow 
gap,  inquired  what  he  wanted.  But  Newman  merely  uttering 
the  monosyllable  "Noggs,"  as  if  it  were  some  cabalistic  word, 
at  sound  of  which  bolts  would  fly  back  and  doors  open, 
pushed  briskly  past  and  gained  the  door  of  Miss  La  Creevy's 
sitting-room,  before  the  astonished  servant  could  offer  any 
opposition. 

"  Walk  in  if  you  please,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy  in  reply  to  the 
sound  of  Newman's  knuckles  ;  and  in  he  walked  accordingly. 

"  Bless  us  ! "  cried  Miss  La  Creevy,  starting  as  Newman 
bolted  in  ;  "  what  did  you  want,  sir  ?  " 

"You  have  forgotten  me,"  said  Newman,  with  an  inclina- 
tion  of  the  head.  "  I  wonder  at  that.  That  nobody  should 
remember  me  who  knew  me  in  other  days,  is  natural  enough  ; 
but  there  are  few  people  who,  seeing  me  once,  forget  me  no7ci." 
He  glanced,  as  he  spoke,  at  his  shabby  clothes  and  paralytic 
limb,  and  slightly  shook  his  head, 

"  I  did  forget  you,  I  declare,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  rising 
to  receive  Newman,  who  met  her  half-way,  "  and  I  am  ashamed 
of  myself  for  doing  so  ;  for  you  are  a  kind,  good  creature,  Mr. 
Noggs.  Sit  down  and  tell  me  all  about  Miss  Nickleby.  Poor 
dear  thing  !  I  haven't  seen  her  for  this  many  a  week." 

"  How's  that  ?  "  asked  Newman. 

"  Why  the  truth  is,  Mr.  Noggs,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy, 
"  that  I  have  been  out  on  a  visit — the  first  visit  I  have  made 
for  fifteen  years." 

"That  is  a  long  time,"  said  Newman,  sadly. 

"  So  it  is  a  very  long  time  to  look  back  upon  in  years,  though, 
somehow  or  other,  thank  Heaven,  the  solitary  days  roll  away 
peacefully  and  happily  enough,"  replied  the  miniature  painter. 
"  I  have  a  brother,  Mr.  Noggs — the  only  relation  I  have — and 
all  that  time  I  nev^er  saw  him  once.  Not  that  we  ever  quar- 
relled, but  he  was  apprenticed  down  in  the  country,  and  he  got 

26 


402  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

married  there,  and  new  ties  and  affections  springing  up  about 
him,  he  forgot  a  poor  Httle  woman  like  me,  as  it  was  very  rea- 
sonable he  should,  you  know.  Don't  suppose  that  I  complain 
about  that,  because  I  always  said  to  mj'self,  '  It  is  very  natural ; 
poor  dear  John  is  making  his  way  in  the  world,  and  has  a  wife 
to  tell  his  cares  and  troubles  to,  and  children  now  to  play 
about  him,  so  God  bless  him  and  them,  and  send  we  may  all 
meet  together  one  day  where  we  shall  part  no  more.'  But 
what  do  you  think,  Mr.  Noggs,"  said  the  miniature  painter, 
brightening  up  and  clapping  her  hands,  "  of  that  very  same 
brother  coming  up  to  London  at  last,  and  never  resting  till  he 
found  me  out ;  what  do  you  think  of  his  coming  here  and  sit- 
ting down  in  that  very  chair,  and  cWing  like  a  child  because 
he  was  so  glad  to  see  me — what  do  you  think  of  his  insisting 
on  taking  me  down  all  the  way  into  the  country  to  his  own 
house  (quite  a  sumptuous  place,  Mr.  Noggs,  with  a  large  gar- 
den and  I  don't  know  how  many  fields,  and  a  man  in  livery 
waiting  at  table,  and  cows  and  horses  and  pigs  and  I  don't 
know  what  besides),  and  making  me  stay  a  whole  month,  and 
pressing  me  to  stop  there  all  my  life — yes,  all  my  life — and  so 
did  his  wife,  and  so  did  the  children — and  there  were  four  of 
them,  and  one,  the  eldest  girl  of  all,  they — they  had  named 
her  after  me  eight  good  years  before,  they  had  indeed.  I 
never  was  so  happy  ;  in  all  my  life  I  never  was  !  "  The  wor- 
thy soul  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief,  and  sobbed  aloud  ; 
for  it  was  the  first  opportunity  she  had  had  of  unburdening 
her  heart,  and  it  would  have  its  way. 

"  But  bless  my  life,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  wiping  her  eyes 
after  a  short  pause,  and  cramming  her  handkerchief  into  her 
pocket  with  great  bustle  and  dispatch ;  "  what  a  foolish 
creature  I  must  seem  to  you,  Mr.  Noggs !  I  shouldn't  have 
said  anything  about  it,  only  I  wanted  to  explain  to  you  how  it 
was  I  hadn't  seen  Miss  Nickleby." 

"  Have  you  seen  the  old  lady  ?  "  asked  Newman. 

"  You  mean  Mrs.  Nickleby  ? "  said  Miss  La  Creevy. 
"  Then  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Noggs,  if  you  want  to  keep  in  the 
good  books  in  that  quarter,  you  had  better  not  call  her  the  old 
lady  any  more,  for  I  suspect  she  wouldn't  be  best  pleased  to 
hear  you.  Yes,  I  went  there  the  night  before  last,  but  she  was 
quite  on  the  high  ropes  about  something,  and  was  so  grand 
and  mysterious,  that  I  couldn't  make  anything  of  her ;  so,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  took  it  into  my  head  to  be  grand  too,  and 
came  away  in  state.  I  thought  she  would  have  come  round 
again  before  this,  but  she  hasn't  been  here." 


NTCHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  403 

"  About  Miss  Nickleby — "  said  Newman. 

"  Why,  she  was  here  twice  while  I  was  away,"  returned 
Miss  La  Creevy.  "  I  was  afraid  she  mightn't  hke  to  have  me 
calUng  on  her  among  those  great  folks  in  what's-its-name  Place, 
so  I  thought  I'd  wait  a  day  or  two,  and  if  I  didn't  see  her, 
write." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Newman,  cracking  his  fingers. 

"  However,  I  want  to  hear  all  the  news  about  them  from 
you,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  How  is  the  old  rough  and 
tough  monster  of  Golden  Square  ?  Well,  of  course  ;  such 
peojDle  always  are.  I  don't  mean  how  is  he  in  health,  but  how 
is  he  going  on  ;  how  is  he  behaving  himself  ?  " 

"  Damn  him  !  "  cried  Newman,  clashing  his  cherished  hat 
on  the  floor  ;  "  like  a  false  hound." 

"  Gracious,  Mr.  Noggs,  you  quite  terrify  me  !  "  exclaimed 
Miss  La  Creevy,  turning  pale. 

"  I  should  have  spoilt  his  features  yesterday  afternoon  if  I 
could  have  afforded  it,"  said  Newman,  moving  restlessly  about, 
and  shaking  his  fist  at  a  portrait  of  Mr.  Canning  over  the 
mantel-piece.  "  I  was  very  near  it.  I  was  obliged  to  put  my 
hands  in  my  pockets,  and  keep  'em  there  very  tight.  I  shall 
do  it  some  day  in  that  little  back  parlor,  I  know  I  shall.  I 
should  have  done  it  before  now,  if  I  hadn't  been  afraid  of 
making  bad  worse.  I  shall  double-lock  myself  in  with  him  and 
have  it  out  before  I  die,  I'm  quite  certain  of  it." 

"  I  shall  scream  if  you  don't  compose  yourself,  Mr.  Noggs," 
said  Miss  La  Creevy  ;  I'm  sure  I  shan't  be  able  to  help  it." 

"  Never  mind,"  rejoined  Newman,  darting  violently  to  and 
fro.  "  He's  coming  up  to-night ;  I  wrote  to  tell  him.  He  lit- 
tle thinks  I  know  ;  he  little  thinks  I  care.  Cunning  scoun- 
drel !  he  don't  think  that.  Not  he,  not  he.  Never  mind,  I'll 
thwart  him — /,  Newman  Noggs.     Ho,  ho,  the  rascal !  " 

Lashing  himself  up  to  an  extravagant  pitch  of  fur}'-,  New- 
man Noggs  jerked  himself  about  the  room  with  the  most 
eccentric  motion  ever  beheld  in  a  human  being  ;  now  sparring 
at  the  little  miniatures  on  the  wall,  and  now  giving  himself 
violent  thumps  on  the  head,  as  if  to  heighten  the  delusion, 
until  he  sank  down  in  his  former  seat  quite  breathless  and 
exhausted. 

"  There,"  said  Newman,  picking  up  his  hat  ;  "  that's  done 
me  good.     Now  I'm  better,  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

It  took  some  little  time  to  reassure  Miss  La  Creevy,  w-ho 
had  been  almost  frightened  out  of  her  senses  by  this  remark- 


404  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

able  demonstration  ;  but  that  clone,  Newman  faithfully  re- 
lated all  that  had  passed  in  the  interview  between  Kate  and 
her  uncle,  prefacing  his  narrative  with  a  statement  of  his 
previous  suspicions  on  the  subject,  and  his  reasons  for  form- 
ing them  ;  and  concluding  with  a  communication  of  the  step 
he  had  taken  in  secretly  writing  to  Nicholas. 

Though  little  Miss  La  Creevy's  indignation  was  not  so 
singularly  displayed  as  Newman's,  it  was  scarcely  inferior  in 
violence  and  intensity.  Indeed  if  Ralph  Nickleby  had  hap- 
pened to  make  his  appearance  in  the  room  at  that  moment, 
there  is  some  doubt  whether  he  would  not  have  found  Miss 
La  Creevy  a  more  dangerous  opponent  than  even  Newman 
Noggs  himself. 

"  God  forgive  me  for  saying  so,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  as 
a  wind-up  to  all  her  expressions  of  anger,  "  but  I  really  feel  as 
if  I  could  stick  this  into  him  with  pleasure." 

It  was  not  a  very  awful  weapon  that  Miss  La  Creevy  held, 
it  being  in  fact  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  black-lead  pencil ; 
but  discovering  her  mistake,  the  little  portrait  painter,  ex- 
changed it  for  a  mother-of-pearl  fruit  knife,  wherewith,  in  proof 
of  her  desperate  thoughts,  she  made  a  lunge  as  she  spoke, 
which  would  have  scarcely  disturbed  the  crumb  of  a  half- 
quartern  loaf. 

"  She  won't  stop  where  she  is,  after  to-night,"  said  New- 
man.    "That's  a  comfort." 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Miss  La  Creevy,  "  she  should  have  left 
there,  weeks  ago." 

— "  If  we  had  known  of  this,"  rejoined  Newman.  "  But 
we  didn't.  Nobody  could  properly  interfere  but  her  mother 
or  brother.  The  mother's  weak — poor  thing — weak.  The 
""•' dear  young  man  will  be  here  to-night." 

"  Heart  alive  !  "  cried  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  He"  will  do 
something  desperate,  Mr.  Noggs,  if  you  tell  him  all  at  once." 

Newman  left  off  rubbing  his  hands,  and  assumed  a  thought- 
ful look. 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  earnestly,  "  if 
you  are  not  very  careful  in  breaking  out  the  truth  to  him,  he 
will  do  some  violence  upon  his  uncle  or  one  of  these  men  that 
will  bring  some  terrible  calamity  upon  his  own  head,  and  grief 
and  sorrow  to  us  all." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  rejoined  Newman,  his  counten- 
ance falling  more  and  more.  "  I  came  to  ask  you  to  receive 
his  sister  in  case  he  brought  her  here,  but — " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


405 


"But  this  is  a  matter  of  much  greater  importance,"  inter- 
rupted Miss  La  Creevy ;  "  that  you  might  have  been  sure  of 
before  you  came,  but  the  end  of  this,  nobody  can  forsee,  unless 
you  are  very  guarded  and  careful." 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  "  cried  Newman,  scratching  his  head 
with  an  air  of  great  vexation  and  perplexity.  ''  If  he  was  to 
talk  of  pistolling  'em  all,  I  should  be  obliged  to  say,  '  Certainly. 
Serve  'em  right.' " 

Miss  La  Creevy  could  not  suppress  a  small  shriek  on  hear- 
ing this,  and  instantly  set  about  extorting  a  solemn  pledge 
from  Newman,  that  he  would  use  his  utmost  endeavors  to 
pacify  the  wrath  of  Nicholas  ;  which,  after  some  demur,  was 
conceded.  They  then  consulted  together  on  the  safest  and 
surest  mode  of  communicating  to  him  the  circumstances 
which  had  rendered  his  presence  necessary. 

"  He  must  have  time  to  cool  before  he  can  possibly  do  any- 
thing," said  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  That  is  of  the  greatest  con- 
sequence.    He  must  not  be  told  until  late  at  night." 

"  But  he'll  be  in  town  between  six  and  seven  this  evening," 
replied  Newman.  "  /  can't  keep  it  from  him  when  he  asks 
me." 

"  Then  you  must  go  out,  Mr.  Noggs,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy. 
"  You  can  easily  have  been  kept  away  by  business,  and  must 
not  return  till  nearly  midnight." 

"  Then  he'll  come  straight  here,"  retorted  Newman. 

"  So  I  suppose,"  observed  Miss  La  Creevy  ;  "but  he  won't 
find  me  at  home,  for  I'll  go  straight  to  the  City,  the  instant 
you  leave  me,  make  up  matters  with  Mrs.  Nickleby,  and  take 
her  away  to  the  theatre,  so  that  he  may  not  even  know  where 
his  sister  lives." 

Upon  further  discussion,  this  appeared  the  safest  and  most 
feasible  mode  of  proceeding  that  could  possibly  be  adopted. 
Therefore  it  was  finally  determined  that  matters  should  be  so 
arranged.  Newman,  after  listening  to  many  supplementary 
cautions  and  entreaties,  took  his  leave  of  Miss  La  Creevy 
and  trudged  back  to  Golden  Square,  ruminating  as  he  went 
upon  a  vast  number  of  possibilities  and  impossibilities  which 
crowded  upon  his  brain,  and  arose  out  of  the  conversation 
that  had  just  terminated. 


4o6 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

RELATING  CHIEFLY  TO  SOME  REMARKABLE  CONVERSATION,  AND 
SOME  REMARKABLE  PROCEEDINGS  TO  WHICH  IT  GIVES 
RISE. 

"  London  at  last !  "  cried  Nicholas,  throwing  back  his 
great-coat  and  rousing  Smike  from  a  long  nap.  "  It  seemed 
to  me  as  though  we  should  never  reach  it." 

"  And  yet  you  came  along  at  a  tidy  pace  too,"  observed 
the  coachman,  looking  over  his  shoulder  at  Nicholas  with  no 
very  pleasant  expression  of  countenance. 

"Ay,  I  know  that,"  was  the  reply,  "but  I  have  been  very 
anxious  to  to  be  at  my  journey's  end,  and  that  makes  the  way 
seem  long." 

"  Well,"  remarked  the  coachman,  "  if  the  way  seemed  long 
with  such  cattle  as  you've  sat  behind,  you  77iust  have  been 
most  uncommon  anxious  ;  "  and  so  saying,  he  let  out  his  whip- 
lash and  touched  up  a  little  boy  on  the  calves  of  his  legs  by 
way  of  emphasis. 

They  ratded  on  through  the  noisy,  bustling,  crowded  streets 
of  London,  now  displaying  long  double  rows  of  brightly-burn- 
ing lamps,  dotted  here  and  there  with  the  chemists'  glaring 
lights,  and  illuminated  besides  with  the  brilliant  flood  that 
streamed  from  the  windows  of  the  shops,  where  sparkling  jewel- 
lery, silks  and  velvets  of  the  richest  colors,  the  most  inviting 
delicacies,  and  most  sumptuous  articles  of  luxurious  ornaments 
succeeded  each  other  in  rich  and  glittering  profusion.  Streams 
of  people  apparently  without  end  poured  on  and  on,  jostling 
each  other  in  the  crowd  and  hurr^-ing  forward,  scarcely  seem- 
ing to  notice  the  riches  that  surrounded  them  on  every  side  ; 
while  vehicles  of  all  shapes  and  makes,  mingled  up  together 
in  one  moving  mass  like  running  water,  lent  their  ceaseless 
roar  to  swell  the  noise  and  tumult. 

As  they  dashed  by  the  quickly-changing  and  ever-varying 
objects,  it  was  curious  to  observe  in  what  a  strange  procession 
they  passed  before  the  eye.  Emporiums  of  splendid  dresses, 
the  materials  brought  from  every  quarter  of  the  world  ;  tempt- 
ing stores  of  everything  to  stimulate  and  pamper  the  sated 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  407 

appetite  and  give  new  relish  to  the  oft-repeated  feast ;  vessels 
of  burnished  gold  and  silver,  wrought  into  every  exquisite 
form  of  vase,  and  dish,  and  goblet ;  guns,  swords,  pistols  and 
patent  engines  of  destruction  ;  screws  and  irons  for  the  crooked, 
clothes  for  the  newly-born,  drugs  for  the  sick,  coffins  for  the 
dead,  churchyards  for  the  buried — all  these  jumbled  each  with 
the  other  and  flockir.g  side  by  side,  seemed  to  flit  by  in  motley 
dance  like  the  fantastic  groups  of  the  old  Dutch  painter,  and 
with  the  same  stern  moral  for  the  unheeding  restless  crowd. 

Nor  were  there  wanting  objects  in  the  crowd  itself  to  give 
new  point  and  purpose  to  the  shifting  scene.     The  rags  of  the 
squalid  ballad-singer  fluttered  in  the  rich   light  that  showed 
the  goldsmith's  treasures ;  pale  and  pinched-up  faces  hovered 
about  the   windows  where  was  tempting  food  ;  hungry  eyes 
wandered  over  the  profusion  guarded  by  one  thin  sheet  of 
brittle  glass — an  iron  wall  to  them  ;  half-naked  shivering  fig- 
ures stopped  to  gaze  at  Chinese  shawls  and  golden  stuffs  ot„,S^Od- 
f-^rndia.     There  was  a  christening  party  at  the  la^^^,  coffin-  |  ^^ 
\    maker's,  alTrrttmcroHrateWmarTraTs^o^e^       great  im-  ^  ^ 
)    provements  in  the  bravest  mansion.      Life  and  death  went  I 
y  hand  in  hand  ;  wealth  and  poverty  stood  side  by  side ;  reple-   \ 
Ction  and  starvation  laid  them  down  together.  -^ 

But  it  was  London  ;  and  the  old  country  lady  inside,  who 
had  put  her  head  out  of  the  coach-window  a  mile  or  two  on 
this  side  of  Kingston,  and  had  cried  out  to  the  driver  that  she 
was  sure  he  must  have  passed  it  and  forgotten  to  set  her  down, 
was  satisfied  at  last. 

Nicholas  engaged  beds  for  himself  and  Smike  at  the  inn 
where  the  coach  stopped,  and  repaired,  without  the  delay  of 
another  moment,  to  the  lodgings  of  Newman  Noggs ;  for  his 
anxiety  and  impatience  had  increased  with  every  succeeding 
minute,  and  were  almost  beyond  control. 

There  was  a  fire  in  Newman's  garret,  and  a  candle  had 
been  left  burning ;  the  floor  was  cleanly  swept,  the  room  was 
as  comfortably  arranged  as  such  a  room  could  be,  and  meat 
and  drink  were  placed  in  order  upon  the  table.  Everything 
bespoke  the  affectionate  care  and  attention  of  Newman  Noggs, 
but  Newman  himself  was  not  there. 

"  Do  you  know  what  time  he  will  be  home  ? "  inquired 
Nicholas,  tapping  at  the  door  of  Newman's  front  neighbor. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Johnson !  "  said  Crowl,  presenting  himself. 
"  Welcome,  sir. — How  well  you're  looking !  I  never  could 
have  believed " 


4o8 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  Pardon  me,"  interposed  Nicholas.  "  My  question — I  am 
extremely  anxious  to  know." 

"  Why,  he  has  a  troublesome  affair  of  business,"  replied 
Crowl,  "  and  will  not  be  home  before  twelve  o'clock.  He  was 
very  unwilling  to  go,  I  can  tell  you,  but  there  was  no  help  for 
it.  However,  he  left  word  that  you  were  to  make  yourself 
comfortable  till  he  came  back,  and  that  I  was  to  entertain  you, 
which  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  do." 

In  proof  of  his  extreme  readiness  to  exert  himself  for  the 
general  entertainment,  Mr.  Crowl  drew  a  chair  to  the  table  as 
he  spoke,  and  helping  himself  plentifully  to  the  cold  meat, 
invited  Nicholas  and  Smike  to  follow  his  example. 

Disappointed  and  uneasy,  Nicholas  could  touch  no  food, 
so,  after  he  had  seen  Smike  comfortably  established  at  the 
table,  he  walked  out  (despite  a  great  many  dissuasions  uttered 
by  Mr.  Crowl  with  his  mouth  full),  and  left  Smike  to  detain 
Newman  in  case  he  returned  first. 

As  Miss  La  Creevy  had  anticipated,  Nicholas  betook  him- 
self straight  to  her  house.  Finding  her  from  home,  he  debated 
within  himself  for  some  time  whether  he  should  go  to  his 
mother's  residence  and  so  compromise  her  with  Ralph  Nickle- 
by.  Fully  persuaded,  however,  that  Newman  would  not  have 
solicited  him  to  return  unless  there  was  some  strong  reason 
which  required  his  presence  at  home,  he  resolved  to  go  there, 
and  hastened  eastwards  with  all  speed. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  would  not  be  at  home,  the  girl'  said,  until 
past  twelve,  or  later.  She  believed  Miss  Nickleby  was  well, 
but  she  didn't  live  at  home  now,  nor  did  she  come  home  except 
very  seldom.  She  couldn't  say  where  she  was  stopping,  but 
it  was  not  at  Madame  Mantalini's.     She  was  sure  of  that. 

With  his  heart  beating  violently,  and  apprehending  he 
knew  not  what  disaster,  Nicholas  returned  to  where  he  had 
left  Smike.  Newman  had  not  been  home.  He  wouldn't  be, 
till  twelve  o'clock  ;  there  was  no  chance  of  it.  Was  there  no 
possibility  of  sending  to  fetch  him  if  it  were  only  for  an  in- 
stant, or  forwarding  to  him  one  line  of  writing  to  which  he 
might  return  a  verbal  reply  ?  That  was  quite  impracticable. 
He  was  not  at  Golden  Square,  and  probably  had  been  sent 
to  execute  some  commission  at  a  distance. 

Nicholas  tried  to  remain  quietly  where  he  was,  but  he  feft 
so  nervous  and  excited  that  he  could  not  sit  still.  He  seemed 
to  be  losing  time  unless  he  was  moving.  It  was  an  absurd 
fancy,  he  knew,  but  he  was  wholly  unable  to  resist  it.  So,  he 
took  up  his  hat  and  rambled  out  again. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


409 


He  strolled  westward  this  time,  pacing  the  long  streets 
with  hurried  footsteps,  and  agitated  by  a  thousand  misgivings 
and  apprehensions  which  he  could  not  overcome.  He  passed 
into  Hyde  Park,  now  silent  and  deserted,  and  increased  his 
rate  of  walking  as  if  in  the  hope  of  lea\  ing  his  thoughts  be- 
hind. They  crowded  upon  him  more  thickly,  however,  now 
there  were  no  passing  objects  to  attract  his  attention  ;  and 
the  one  idea  was  always  uppermost,  that  some  stroke  of  ill- 
fortune  must  have  occurred  so  calamitous  in  its  nature  that 
all  were  fearful  of  disclosing  it  to  him.  The  old  question 
arose  again  and  again — What  could  it  be  ?  Nicholas  walked 
till  he  was  weary,  but  was  not  one  bit  the  wiser ;  and  indeed 
he  came  out  of  the  Park  at  last  a  great  deal  more  confused 
and  perplexed  than  he  had  gone  into  it. 

Pie  had  taken  scarcely  anything  to  eat  or  drink  since 
early  in  the  morning,  and  felt  quite  worn  out  and  exhausted. 
As  he  returned  languidly  towards  the  point  from  which  he  had 
started,  along  one  of  the  thoroughfares  which  lie  between 
Park  Lane  and  Bond  Street,  he  passed  a  handsome  hotel, 
before  which  he  stopped  mechanically. 

"An  expensive  place,  I  dare  say,"  thought  Nicholas  ;  "but 
a  pint  of  wine  and  a  biscuit  are  no  great  debauch  wherever 
they  are  had.     And  yet  I  don't  know." 

He  walked  on  a  few  steps,  but  looking  wistfully  down  the 
long  vista  of  gas-lamps  before  him,  and  thinking  how  long  it 
would  take  to  reach  the  end  of  it — and  being  besides  in  that 
kind  of  mood  in  which  a  man  is  most  disposed  to  yield  to  his 
first  impulse — and  being,  besides,  strongly  attracted  to  the 
hotel,  in  part  by  curiosity,  and  in  part  by  some  odd  mixture 
of  feelings  which  he  would  have  been  troubled  to  define — 
Nicholas  turned  back  again,  and  walked  into  the  coffee-room. 

It  was  very  handsomely  furnished.  The  walls  were  orna- 
mented with  the  choicest  specimens  of  French  paper,  en- 
riched with  a  gilded  cornice  of  elegant  design.  The  floor 
was  covered  with  a  rich  carpet  ;  and  two  superb  mirrors,  one 
above  the  chimney-piece  and  one  at  the  opposite  end  of  the 
room  reaching  from  lioor  to  ceiling,  multiplied  the  other  beau- 
ties and  added  new  ones  of  their  own  to  enhance  the  general 
effect.  There  was  rather  a  noisy  party  of  four  gentlemen  in 
a  box  by  the  fire-place,  and  only  two  other  persons  present- 
both  elderly  gentlemen,  and  both  alone. 

Observing  all  this  in  the  first  comprehensive  glance  with 
which  a  stranger  surveys  a  place  that  is  new  to  him,  Nicholas 


4 1  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

sat  himself  down  in  the  box  next  to  the  noisy  party,  with  his 
back  towards  them,  and  postponing  his  order  for  a  pint  of 
claret  until  such  time  as  the  waiter  and  one  of  the  elderly 
gentlemen  should  have  settled  a  disputed  question  relative  to 
the  price  of  an  item  in  the  bill  of  fare,  took  up  a  newspaper 
and  began  to  read. 

He  had  not  read  twenty  lines,  and  was  in  truth  half- 
dozing,  when  he  was  startled  by  the  mention  of  his  sister's 
name.  "  Little  Kate  Nickleby  "  were  the  words  that  caught 
his  ear.  He  raised  his  head  in  amazement,  and  as  he  did  so, 
saw  by  the  reflection  in  the  opposite  glass,  that  tvv'o  of  the 
party  behind  him  had  risen  and  were  standing  before  the  fire. 
"  It  must  have  come  from  one  of  them,"  thought  Nicholas. 
He  waited  to  hear  more  with  a  countenance  of  some  indigna- 
tion, for  the  tone  of  speech  had  been  anything  but  respectful, 
and  the  appearance  of  the  individual  whom  he  presumed  to 
have  been  the  speaker  was  coarse  and  swaggering. 

This  person — so  Nicholas  observed  in  the  same  glance  at 
the  mirror  which  had  enabled  him  to  see  his  face — was  stand- 
ing with  his  back  to  the  fire  conversing  with  a  younger  man, 
who  stood  with  his  back  to  the  company,  wore  his  hat,  and 
was  adjusting  his  shirt  collar  by  the  aid  of  the  glass.  They 
spoke  in  whispers,  now  and  then  bursting  into  a  loud  laugh, 
but  Nicholas  could  catch  no  repetition  of  the  words,  nor  any- 
thino;  sounding  at  all  like  the  words,  which  had  attracted  his 
attention. 

At  length  the  two  resumed  their  seats,  and  more  wine 
being  ordered,  the  party  grew  louder  in  their  mirth.  Still 
there  was  no  reference  made  to  anybody  with  whom  he  was 
acquainted,  and  Nicholas  became  persuaded  that  his  excited 
fancy  had  either  imagined  the  sounds  altogether,  or  converted 
some  other  words  into  the  name  which  had  been  so  much  in 
his  thoughts. 

"  It  is  remarkable  too,"  thought  Nicholas  :  "  if  it  had  been 
'  Kate '  or  '  Kate  Nickleby,'  I  should  not  have  been  so  much 
surprised  ;  but  'little  Kate  Nickleby  !  '" 

The  wine  coming  at  the  moment  prevented  his  finishing 
the  sentence.  He  swallowed  a  glassful  and  took  up  the  paper 
again.     At  that  instant 

"  Little  Kate  Nickleby  !  "  cried  a  voice  behind  him. 

"  I  was  right,"  muttered  Nicholas  as  the  paper  fell  from 
his  hand.     "  And  it  was  the  man  I  supposed." 

"  As  there  was  a  proper  objection  to  drinking  her  in  heel- 


NICHdLAS  NICKLEB  V.  41 1 


taps,"  said  the  voice,  "  we'll  give  her  the  first  glass  in  the  new 
magnum.     Little  Kate  Nickleby  !  " 

"  Little  Kate  Nickleby,"  cried  the  other  three.  And  the 
glasses  were  set  down  empty. 

Keenly  alive  to  the  tone  and  manner  of  this  slight  and 
careless  mention  of  his  sister's  name  in  a  public  place,  Nicho- 
las fired  at  once  ;  but  he  kept  himself  quiet  by  a  great  effort, 
and  did  not  even  turn  his  head. 

"  The  jade  !  "  said  the  same  voice  which  had  spoken  be- 
fore. "  She's  a  true  Nickleby — a  worthy  imitator  of  her  old 
vmcle  Ralph — she  hangs  back  to  be  more  sought  after — so 
does  he  ;  nothing  to  be  got  out  of  Ralph  unless  you  follow 
him  up,  and  then  the  money  comes  douloly  welcome,  and  the 
bargain  doubly  hard,  for  you're  impatient  and  he  isn't.  Oh  ! 
infernal  cunning." 

"  Infernal  cunning,"  echoed  two  voices. 

Nicholas  wafe  in  a  perfect  agony  as  the  two  elderly  gentle- 
men opposite,  rose  one  after  the  other  and  went  away,  lest 
they  should  be  the  means  of  his  losing  one  word  of  what  was 
said.  But  the  conversation  was  suspended  as  they  withdrew, 
and  resumed  with  even  greater  freedom  when  they  had  left 
the  room. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  the  younger  gentleman,  "  that  the  old 
woman  has  grown  jea-a-lous,  and  locked  her  up.  Upon  my 
soul  it  looks  like  it." 

"  If  they  quarrel  and  little  Nickleby  goes  home  to  her 
mother,  so  much  the  better,"  said  the  first.  "  I  can  do  any- 
thing with  the  old  lady.     She'll  believe  anything  I  tell  her." 

"  Egad  that's  true,"  returned  the  other  voice.  "  Ha,  ha, 
ha !     Poor  deyvle  !  " 

The  laugh  was  taken  up  by  the  two  voices  which  always 
came  in  together,  and  became  general  at  Mrs.  Nickleby's  ex- 
pense. Nicholas  turned  burning  hot  with  rage,  but  he  com- 
manded himself  for  the  moment,  and  waited  to  hear  more. 

What  he  heard  need  not  be  repeated  here.  Suffice  it  that 
as  the  wine  went  round  he  heard  enough  to  acquaint  him  with 
the  characters  and  designs  of  those  whose  conversation  he 
overheard  ;  to  possess  him  with  the  full  extent  of  Ralph's 
villan}^  and  the  real  reason  of  his  own  presence  being  re- 
quired in  London.  He  heard  all  this  and  more.  He  heard 
his  sister's  sufferings  derided,  and  her  virtuous  conduct  jeered 
at  and  brutally  misconstrued  ;  he  heard  her  name  bandied 
from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  herself  made  the  subject  of  coarse 
and  insolent  wagers,  free  speech,  and  licentious  jesting. 


412  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

The  man  who  had  spoken  first,  led  the  conversation  and 
indeed  ahnost  engrossed  it,  being  only  stimulated  from  time 
to  time  by  some  slight  observation  from  one  or  other  of  his 
companions.  To  him  then  Nicholas  addressed  himself  when 
he  was  sufficiently  composed  to  stand  before  the  party,  and 
force  the  words  from  his  parched  and  scorching  throat. 

"  Let  me  have  a  word  with  you,  sir,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  With  me,  sir  ?  "  retorted  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  eyeing  him 
in  disdainful  surprise. 

"  I  said  with  you,"  replied  Nicholas,  speaking  with  great 
difficulty,  for  his  passion  choked  him. 

"  A  mysterious  stranger,  upon  my  soul  !  "  exclaimed  Sir 
Mulberry,  raising  his  wine-glass  to  his  lips,  and  looking  round 
upon  his  friends. 

"  Will  you  step  apart  with  me  for  a  few  minutes,  or  do 
you  refuse  .-'  "  said  Nicholas  sternly. 

Sir  Mulberry  merely  paused  in  the  act  of  drinking,  and 
bade  him  either  name  his  business  or  leave  the  table. 

Nicholas  drew  a  card  from  his  pocket,  and  threw  it  before 
him. 

"  There,  sir,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "  my  business  you  will  guess." 

A  momentary  expression  of  astonishment,  not  unmixed 
with  some  confusion,  appeared  in  the  face  of  Sir  Mulberry  as 
he  read  the  name ;  but  he  subdued  it  in  an  instant,  and  toss- 
ing the  card  to  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  who  sat  opposite, 
drew  a  tooth-pick  from  a  glass  before  him,  and  very  leisurely 
applied  it  to  his  mouth. 

"  Your  name  and  address  .''  "  said  Nicholas,  turning  paler 
as  his  passion  kindled. 

"  I  shall  give  you  neither,"  replied  Sir  Mulberry. 

"  If  there  is  a  gentleman  in  this  party,"  said  Nicholas, 
looking  round  and  scarcely  able  to  make  his  white  lips  form 
the  words,  "  he  will  acquaint  me  with  the  name  and  residence 
of  this  man." 

There  was  a  dead  silence. 

"  I  am  the  brother  of  the  young  lady  who  has  been  the 
subject  of  conversation  here,"  said  Nicholas.  "  I  denounce 
this  person  as  a  liar,  and  impeach  him  as  a  coward.  If  he 
has  a  friend  here,  he  will  save  him  the  disgrace  of  the  paltry 
attempt  to  conceal  his  name — an  utterly  useless  one — for  I 
will  find  it  out,  nor  leave  him  until  I  have." 

Sir  Mulberry  looked  at  him  contemptuously,  and,  address- 
ing his  companions,  said — 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


413 


"  Let  the  fellow  talk.  I  have  nothing  serious  to  say  to 
boys  of  his  station ;  and  his  pretty  sister  shall  save  him  a 
broken  head,  if  he  talks  till  midnight." 

"  You  are  a  base  and  spiritless  scoundrel !  "  said  Nicholas, 
"  and  shall  be  proclaimed  so  to  the  world.  I  7mll  know  you; 
I  will  follow  you  home  if  you  walk  the  streets  till  morning." 

Sir  Mulberry's  hand  involuntarily  closed  upon  the  de- 
canter, and  he  seemed  for  an  instant  about  to  launch  it  at  the 
head  of  his  challenger.  But  he  only  filled  his  glass,  and 
laughed  in  derision. 

Nicholas  sat  himself  down,  directly  opposite  to  the  party, 
and,  summoning  the  waiter,  paid  his  bill. 

"Do  you  know  that  person's  name?  "  he  inquired  of  the 
man  in  an  audible  voice,  pointing  out  Sir  Mulberry  as  he  put 
the  question. 

Sir  Mulberry  laughed  again,  and  the  two  voices  which 
had  always  sjDoken  together,  echoed  the  laugh  ;  but  rather 
feebly. 

"  That  gentleman,  sir  ? "  replied  the  waiter,  who,  no 
doubt,  knew  his  cue,  and  answered  with  just  as  little  respect, 
and  just  as  much  impertinence  as  he  could  safely  show  :  "  no, 
sir,  I  do  not,  sir." 

"  Here,  you  sir  !  "  cried  Sir  Mulberr}^  as  the  man  was 
retiring.     "  Do  you  know  that  person's  name  .''  " 

"  Name,  sir  ?     No,  sir." 

"  Then  you'll  find  it  there,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  throwing 
Nicholas's,  card  towards  him  :  "  and  when  you  have  made 
yourself  master  of  it,  put  that  piece  of  pasteboard  in  the  fire." 

The  man  grinned,  and,  looking  doubtfully  at  Nicholas, 
compromised  the  matter  by  sticking  the  card  in  the  chimney- 
glass.     Having  done  this,  he  retired. 

Nicholas  folded  his  arms,  and,  biting  his  lip,  sat  perfectly 
quiet ;  sufficiently  expressing  by  his  manner,  however,  a  firm 
determination  to  carry  his  threat  of  following  Sir  Mulberry 
home,  into  steady  execution. 

It  was;  evident  from  the  tone  in  which  the  younger  mem- 
ber of  the  party  appeared  to  remonstrate  with  his  friend,  that 
he  objected  to  this  course  of  proceeding,  and  urged  him  to 
comply  with  the  request  which  Nicholas  had  made.  Sir 
Mulberry,  however,  who  was  not  quite  sober,  and  who  was  in 
a  sullen  and  dogged  state  of  obstinacy,  soon  silenced  the  rep- 
resentations of  his  weak  young  friend,  and  further  seemed — as 
if  to  save  himself  from  a  repetition  of  them — to  insist  on  being 


414  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

left  alone.  However  this  might  have  been,  the  young  gentle- 
man and  the  two  who  had  always  spoken  together,  actually 
rose  to  go  after  a  short  interval,  and  presently  retired,  leaving 
their  friend  alone  with  Nicholas. 

It  will  be  very  readily  supposed  that  to  one  in  the  condi- 
tion of  Nicholas  the  minutes  appeared  to  move  with  leaden 
wings  indeed,  and  that  their  progress  did  not  seem  the  more 
rapid  from  the  monotonous  ticking  of  a  French  clock,  or  the 
shrill  sound  of  its  little  bell  which  told  the  quarters.  But 
there  he  sat  ;  and  in  his  old  seat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room  reclined  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  with  his  legs  upon  the 
cushion,  and  his  handkerchief  thrown  negligently  over  his 
knees  ;  finishing  his  magnum  of  claret  with  the  utmost  coolness 
and  inditference. 

Thus  they  remained  in  perfect  silence  for  upwards  of  an 
hour — Nicholas  would  have  thought  for  three  hours  at  least, 
but  that  the  little  bell  had  only  gone  four  times.  Twice  or 
thrice  he  looked  angrily  and  impatiently  round  ;  but  there 
was  Sir  Mulberry  in  the  same  attitude,  putting  his  glass  to 
his  lips  from  time  to  time,  and  looking  vacantly  at  the  wall, 
as  if  he  were  wholly  ignorant  of  the  presence  of  any  living 
person. 

At  length  he  yawned,  stretched  himself  and  rose,  walked 
coolly  to  the  glass,  and,  having  surveyed  himself  therein, 
turned  round  and  honored  Nicholas  with  a  long  and  con- 
temptuous stare.  Nicholas  stared  again  with  right  good- 
will j  Sir  Mulberry  shrugged  his  shoulders,  smiled  slightly, 
rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  the  waiter  to  help  him  on  with  his 
great-coat. 

The  man  did  so,  and  held  the  door  open. 

"  Don't  wait,"  said  Sir  Mulberry  ;  and  they  were  alone 
again. 

Sir  Mulberr}'  took  several  turns  up  and  down  the  room, 
whistling  carelessly  all  the  time  :  stopped  to  finish  the  last 
glass  of  claret  which  he  had  poured  out  a  few  minutes  before, 
walked  again,  put  on  his  hat,  adjusted  it  by  the  glass,  drew 
on  his  gloves,  and,  at  last,  walked  slowly  out.  Nicholas,  who 
had  been  fuming  and  chafing  until  he  was  nearly  wild,  darted 
from  his  seat,  and  followed  him  :  so  closely,  that  before  the 
door  had  swung  upon  its  hinges  after  Sir  Mulberry's  passing 
out,  they  stood  side  by  side  in  the  street  together. 

There  was  a  private  cabriolet  in  waiting ;  the  groom  opened 
the  apron,  and  jumped  out  to  the  horse's  head. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  415 

"  Will  you  make  yourself  known  to  me  ?  "  asked  Nicholas, 
in  a  suppressed  voice. 

"  No,"  replied  the  other  fiercely,  and  confirming  the  refusal 
with  an  oath.     "  No." 

"  If  you  trust  to  your  horse's  speed,  you  will  find  yourself 
mistaken,"  said  Nicholas.  "I  will  accompany  you.  By 
Heaven  1  will,  if  I  hang  on  to  the  foot-board  !  " 

"  You  shall  be  horsewhipped  if  you  do,"  returned  Sir  Mul- 
berry. 

"  You  are  a  villain,"  said  Nicholas. 

"You  are  an  errand-boy  for  aught  I  know,"  said  Sir  Mul- 
berry Hawk. 

"  I  am  the  son  of  a  country  gentleman,"  returned  Nicholas, 
"  your  equal  in  birth  and  education,  and  your  superior  I  trust 
in  everything  besides.  I  tell  you  again.  Miss  Nickleby  is  my 
sister.  Will  you  or  will  you  not  answer  for  your  unmanly  and 
brutal  conduct  ?  " 

"  To  a  proper  champion — yes.  To  you — no,"  returned 
Sir  Mulberry,  taking  the  reins  in  his  hand.  "  Stand  out  of  the 
way,  dog.     William,  let  go  her  head." 

"  You  had  better  not,"  cried  Nicholas,  springing  on  the 
step  as  Sir  Mulberry  jumped  in,  and  catching  at  the  reins. 
"He  has  no  command  over  the  horse,  mind.  You  shall  not 
go — you  shall  not,  I  swear — till  you  have  told  me  who  you 
are." 

The  groom  hesitated,  for  the  mare,  who  was  a  high-spirited 
animal  and  thorough-bred,  plunged  so  violently  that  he  could 
scarcely  hold  her. 

"  Leave  go,  I  tell  you  !  "  thundered  his  master. 

The  man  obeyed.  The  animal  reared  and  plunged  as 
though  it  would  dash  the  carriage  into  a  thousand  pieces,  but 
Nicholas,  blind  to  all  sense  of  danger,  and  conscious  of 
nothing  but  his  fury,  still  maintained  his  place  and  his  hold 
upon  the  reins. 

"  Will  you  unclasp  your  hand  }  " 

"  Will  you  tell  me  who  you  are  .^ " 

"No!" 

"No!" 

In  less  time  than  the  quickest  tongue  could  tell  it,  these 
words  were  exchanged,  and  Sir  Mulberry  shortening  his  whip, 
applied  it  furiously  to  the  head  and  shoulders  of  Nicholas. 
It  was  broken  in  the  struggle  ;  Nicholas  gained  the  heavy 
handle,  and  with  it  laid  open  one  side  of  his  antagonist's  face 


4i6 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


from  the  eye  to  the  lip.  He  saw  the  gash  ;  knew  that  the  mare 
had  darted  off  at  a  wild  mad  gallop  ;  a  hundred  lights  danced 
in  his  eyes,  and  he  felt  himself  flung  violently  upon  the  ground. 

He  was  giddy  and  sick,  but  staggered  to  his  feet  directly, 
roused  by  the  loud  shouts  of  the  men  who  were  tearing  up  the 
street,  and  screaming  to  those  ahead  to  clear  the  way.  He 
was  conscious  of  a  torrent  of  people  rushing  quickly  by — look- 
ing up,  could  discern  the  cabriolet  whirled  along  the  foot 
pavement  with  frightful  rapidity — then  heard  a  loud  cry,  the 
smashing  of  some  heavy  body,  and  the  breaking  of  glass — 
and  then  the  crowd  closed  in  in  the  distance,  and  he  could 
see  or  hear  no  more. 

The  general  attention  had  been  entirely  directed  from 
himself  to  the  person  in  the  carriage,  and  he  was  quite  alone. 
Rirditlv  iudfrins:  that  under  such  circumstances  it  would  be 
madness  to  follow,  he  turned  down  a  by-street  ni  search  of  the 
nearest  coach-stand,  finding  after  a  minute  or  two  that  he  was 
reeling  like  a  drunken  man,  and  aware  for  the  first  time  of  a 
stream  of  blood  that  was  trickling  down  his  face  and  breast. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


IN  WHICH  MR.  RALPH  NICKLEBY  IS  RELIEVED,  BY  A  VERY 
EXPEDITIOUS  PROCESS,  FROM  ALL  COMMERCE  WITH  HIS 
RELATIONS. 

Smike  and  Newman  Noggs,  who  in  his  impatience  had 
returned  home  long  before  the  time  agreed  upon,  sat  before 
the  fire,  listening  anxiously  to  every  footstep  on  the  stairs, 
and  the  slightest  sound  that  stirred  within  the  house,  for  the 
approach  of  Nicholas.  Time  had  worn  on,  and  it  was  grow- 
ing late.  He  had  promised  to  be  back  in  an  hour  ;  and  his 
prolonged  absence  began  to  excite  considerable  alarm  in  the 
minds  of  both,  as  was  abundantly  testified  by  the  blank  looks 
they  cast  upon  each  other  at  every  new  disappointment. 

At  length  a  coach  was  heard  to  stop,  and  Newman  ran  out 
to  light  Nicholas  up  the  stairs.  Beholding  him  in  the  trim 
described  at  the  conclusion  of  the  last  chapter,  he  stood  aghast 
in  wonder  and  consternation. 

"  Don't  be   alarmed,"  said  Nicholas,  hurrying  him  back 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  417 

into  the  room.  "  There  is  no  harm  done,  beyond  what  a  basin 
of  water  can  repair." 

"  No  harm  ! "  cried  Newman,  passing  his  hands  hastilj/ 
over  the  back  and  arms  of  Nicholas,  as  if  to  assure  himself 
that  he  had  broken  no  bones.     "■  What  have  you  been  doing  ?  " 

"  f  know  all,"  interrupted  Nicholas  ;  "  I  have  heard  apart, 
and  guessed  the  rest.  But  before  I  remove  one  jot  of  these 
stains,  I  must  hear  the  whole  from  you.  You  see  I  am  col- 
lected. My  resolution  is  taken.  Now,  my  good  friend,  speak 
out ;  for  the  time  of  any  palliation  or  concealment  is  past,  and 
nothing  will  avail  Ralph  Nickleby  now." 

"  Your  dress  is  torn  in  several  places  ;  you  walk  lame,  and 
I  am  sure  are  suffering  pain,"  said  Newman.  Let  me  see 
to  your  hurts  first." 

"  I  have  no  hurts  to  see  to,  beyond  a  little  soreness  and 
stiffness  that  will  soon  pass  off,"  said  Nicholas,  seating  him- 
s-^^lf  with  some  difficulty.  "  But  if  I  had  fractured  every  limb, 
and  still  preserved  my  senses,  you  should  not  bandage  one 
till  you  had  told  me  what  I  have  the  right  to  know.  Come," 
said  Nicholas,  giving  his  hand  to  Noggs.  "  You  had  a  sister 
of  your  own,  you  told  me  once,  who  died  before  you  fell  into 
misfortune.     Now  think  of  her,  and  tell  me,  Newman." 

"  Yes,  I  will,  I  will,"  said  Noggs.  "  I'll  tell  you  the  whole 
truth." 

Newman  did  so.  Nicholas  nodded  his  head  from  time 
to  time,  as  it  corroborated  the  particulars  he  had  already 
gleaned  ;  but  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  fire,  and  did  not  look 
round  once. 

His  recital  ended,  Newman  insisted  upon  his  young 
friend's  stripping  off  his  coat,  and  allowing  whatever  injuries 
he  had  received  to  be  properly  tended.  Nicholas,  after  some 
opposition,  at  length  consented,  and,  while  some  pretty  severe 
bruises  on  his  arms  and  shoulders  were  beinsf  rubbed  with  oil 
and  vmegar,  and  various  other  efficacious  remedies  which 
Newman  borrowed  from  the  different  lodgers,  related  in  what 
manner  they  had  been  received.  The  recital  made  a  strong 
impression  on  the  warm  imagination  of  Newman  ;  for  when 
Nicholas  came  to  the  violent  part  of  the  quarrel,  he  rubbed 
so  hard,  as  to  occasion  him  the  most  exquisite  pain,  which  he 
would  not  have  exhibited,  however,  for  the  world,  it  being 
perfectly  clear  that,  for  the  moment,  Newman  was  operating 
on  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  and  had  quite  lost  sight  of  his  real 
patient. 


4 1 8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

This  martyrdom  over,  Nicholas  arranged  with  Newman 
that  while  he  was  otherwise  occupied  next  morning,  arrange- 
ments should  be  made  for  his  mother's  immediately  quitting 
her  present  residence,  and  also  for  despatching  Miss  La 
Creevy  to  break  the  intelligence  to  her.  He  then  wrapped 
himself  in  Smike's  great-coat,  and  repaired  to  the  inn  where 
they  were  to  pass  the  night,  and  where  (after  writing  a  few 
lines  to  Ralph,  the  delivery  of  which  was  to  be  intrusted  to 
Newman  next  day),  he  endeavored  to  obtain  the  repose  of 
which  he  stood  so  much  in  need. 

Drunken  men,  they  say,  may  roll  down  precipices,  and  be 
quite  unconscious  of  any  serious  personal  inconvenience  when 
their  reason  returns.  The  remark  may  possibly  apply  to  in- 
juries received  in  other  kinds  of  violent  excitement ;  certain 
it  is,  that  although  Nicholas  experienced  some  pain  on  first 
awakening  next  morning,  he  sprung  out  of  bed  as  the  clock 
struck  seven,  with  very  little  difficulty,  and  was  soon  as  much 
on  the  alert  as  if  nothing  had  occurred. 

Merely  looking  into  Smike's  room,  and  telling  him  that 
Newman  Noggs  would  call  for  him  very  shortly,  Nicholas 
descended  into  the  street,  and  calling  a  hackney-coach,  bade 
the  man  drive  to  Mrs.  Wititterly's,  according  to  the  direction 
which  Newman  had  given  him  on  the  previous  night. 

It  wanted  a  quarter  to  eight  when  they  reached  Cadogan 
Place.  Nicholas  began  to  fear  that  no  one  might  be  stirring 
at  that  early  hour,  when  he  was  relieved  by  the  sight  of  a 
female  servant,  employed  in  cleaning  the  door-steps.  By  this 
functionary  he  was  referred  to  the  doubtful  page,  who  ap- 
peared with  dishevelled  hair  and  a  very  warm  and  glossy  face, 
as  of  a  page  who  had  just  got  out  of  bed. 

By  this  young  gentleman  he  was  informed  that  Miss  Nick- 
leby  was  then  taking  her  morning's  walk  in  the  gardens  be- 
fore the  house.  On  the  question  being  propounded  whether 
he  could  go  and  find  her,  the  page  desponded  and  thought 
not  ;  but  being  slimulated  with  a  shilling,  the  page  grew  san- 
guine and  thought  he  could. 

"  Say  to  Miss  Nickleby  that  her  brother  is  here,  and  in 
great  haste  to  see  her,"  said  Nicholas. 

The  plated  buttons  disappeared  with  an  alacrity  most  un- 
usual to  them,  and  Nicholas  paced  the  room  in  a  state  of 
feverish  agitation  which  made  the  delay  even  of  a  minute  in- 
supportable. He  soon  heard  a  light  footstep  which  he  well 
knew,  and  before  he  could  advance  to  meet  her,  Kate  had 
fallen  on  his  neck  and  burst  into  tears. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  4 ,  cj 

•'My  darling  girl,"  said  Nicholas  as  he  embraced  her. 
"  How  pale  you  are  !  " 

"  I  have  been  so  unhappy  here,  dear  brother,"  sobbed 
poor  Kate  ;  "  so  very,  very  miserable.  Do  not  leave  me  here, 
dear  Nicholas,  or  I  shall  die  of  a  broken  heart." 

"I  will  leave  you  nowhere,"  answered  Nicholas — "never 
again,  Kate,"  he  cried,  moved  in  spite  of  himself  as  he  folded 
her  to  his  heart.  ''.Tell  me  that  I  acted  for  the  best.  Tell 
rne  that  we  parted  because  T  feared  to  bring  misfortune  on 
yqu£Keacl  I  that  it,.'^^.^^t4al  to  me  no  less  than  to  yourself, 
and  that  if  1  did  wrong  it  was  in  ignorance  of  tlie  world  and 
i^iknowingly." 

"  Why  should  I  tell  you  what  we  know  so  well  ?  "  returned 
Kate  soothingly.  "  Nicholas — dear  Nicholas — how  can  you 
give  way  thus  ?  " 

"  It  is  such  bitter  reproach  to  me  to  know  what  you  have 
undergone,"  returned  her  brother;  "to  see  you  so  much 
altered,  and  yet  so  kind  and  patient — God  !  "  cried  Nicholas, 
clenching  his  fist  and  suddenly  changing  his  tone  and  manner, 
"  it  sets  my  whole  blood  on  fire  again.  You  must  leave  here 
with  me  directly  ;  you  should  not  have  slept  here  last  night, 
but  that  I  knew  all  this  too  late.  To  whom  can  I  speak,  be- 
fore we  drive  away  ? " 

This  question  was  most  opportunely  put,  for  that  instant 
Mr.  Wititterly  walked  in,  and  to  him  Kate  introduced  her 
brother,  who  at  once  announced  his  purpose,  and  the  impossi- 
bility of  deferring  it. 

"  The  quarter's  notice,"  said  Mr.  Wititterly,  with  the 
gravity  of  a  man  on  the  right  side,  "  is  not  yet  half  expired. 
Therefore — " 

"  Therefore,"  interposed  Nicholas,  "  the  quarter's  salary 
must  be  lost,  sir.  You  will  excuse  this  extreme  haste,  but 
circumstances  require  that  I  should  immediately  remove  my 
sister,  and  I  have  not  a  moment's  time  to  lose.  Whatever 
she  brought  here  I  will  send  for,  if  you  will  allow  me,  in  the 
course  of  the  day." 

Mr.  Wititterly  bowed,  but  offered  no  opposition  to  Kate's 
immediate  departure  ;  with  which,  indeed,  he  was  rather  grati- 
fied than  otherwise.  Sir  Tumley  Snufifim  having  given  it  as 
his  opinion,  that  she  rather  disagreed  with  Mrs.  Wititterly's 
constitution. 

"  With  regard  to  the  trifle  of  salary  that  is  due,"  said  Mr. 
Wititterly,  "  T  will — "  here  he  was  interrupted  bv  a  violent  fit 
of  coughing — "  i  will— owe  it  to  Miss  Nickleby," 


^2o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


Mr.  Wititterly,  it  should  be  observed,  was  accustomed  to 
owe  small  accounts,  and  to  leave  them  owing.  All  men  have 
some  little  pleasant  way  of  their  own  ;  and  this  was  Mr. 
Wititterly's. 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Nicholas.  And  once  more  offering 
a  hurried  apology  for  so  sudden  a  departure,  he  hurried  Kate 
into  the  vehicle,  and  bade  the  man  drive  with  all  speed  into 
the  City. 

To  the  City  they  went  accordingly,  with  all  the  speed  the 
hackney-coach  could  make  ;  and  as  the  horses  happened  to  live 
at  Whitechapel  and  to  be  in  the  habit  of  taking  their  break- 
fast there,  when  they  breakfasted  at  all,  they  performed  the 
journey  with  greater  expedition  than  could  reasonably  have 
been  expected. 

Nicholas  sent  Kate  up  stairs  a  few  minutes  before  him, 
that  his  unlooked-for  appearance  might  not  alarm  liis  mother, 
and  when  the  way  had  been  paved,  presented  himself  -with 
much  duty  and  affection.  Newman  had  not  been  idle,  for 
there  was  a  little  cart  at  the  door,  and  the  effects  were  hurry- 
ingjQ.ut  already. 
£^aw,  Mrs.  Nickleby  was  not  the  sort  of  person  to  be  told 
anything  in  a  hurry,  or  rather  to  comprehend  ^^aflvthing  of 
peculiar  delicacy  or  importance  on  a  shojX,,,noticeJ  Where- 
fore, although  the  good  lady  had  been  subjected  to  a  full 
hour's  preparation  by  little  Miss  La  Creevy,  and  was  now  ad- 
dressed in  most  lucid  terms  both  by  Nicholas  and  his  sister, 
she  was  in  a  state  of  singular  bewilderment  and  confusion, 
and  could  by  no  means  be  made  to  comprehend  the  necessity 
of  such  hurried  proceedings. 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  your  uncle,  my  dear  Nicholas,  what 
he  can  possibly  mean  by  it  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"My  dear  mother,"  returned  Nicholas,  "the  time  for 
talking  has  gone  by.  There  is  but  one  step  to  take,  and  that 
is  to  cast  him  off  with  the  scorn  and  indignation  he  deserves. 
Your  own  honor  and  good  name  demand  that,  after  the  dis- 
covery of  his  vile  proceedings,  you  should  not  be  beholden  to 
him  one  hour,  even  for  the  shelter  of  these  bare  walls." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  crying  bitterly,  "  he  is 
a  brute,  a  monster  ;  and  the  walls  are  very  bare,  and  want 
painting  too,  and  I  ha\e  had  this  ceiling  white-washed  at  the 
expense  of  eighteen-pence,  which  is  a  very  distressing  thing, 
considering  that  it  is  so  much  gone  into  your  uncle's  pocket. 
I  never  could  have  believed  it — never." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  42 1 

"  Nor  I,  nor  anybody  else,"  said  Nicholas. 
"  Lord  bless  my  life  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  To 
think  that  that  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  should  be  such  an  aban- 
doned wretch  as  Miss  La  Creevy  says  he  is,  Nicholas,  my 
dear ;  when  I  was  cong;ratulating  myself  ever}-  day  on  his  be- 
ing an  admirer  of  our  dear  Kate's,  and  thinking  what  a  thing 
it  would  be  for  the  family  if  he  was  to  become  connected 
with  us,  and  use  his  interest  to  get  you  some  profitable  govern- 
ment place.  There  are  very  good  places  to  be  got  about  the 
court,  I  know ;  for  a  friend  of  ours  (Mr.  Cropley,  at  Exeter, 
my  dear  Kate,  you  recollect),  he  had  one,  and  I  know  that  it 
was  the  chief  part  of  his  duty  to  wear  silk  stockings,  and  a 
bag  wig  like  a  black  watch-pocket  ;  and  to  think  that  it  should 
come  to  this  after  all — oh,  dear,  dear,  it's  enough  to  kill  one, 
that  it  is  !  "  With  which  expressions  of  sorrow,  Mrs.  Nickleby 
gave  fresh  vent  to  her  grief,  and  wept  piteously. 

As  Nicholas  and  his  sister  were  by  this  time  compelled  to 
superintend  the  removal  of  the  few  articles  of  furniture.  Miss 
La  Creevy  devoted  herself  to  the  consolation  of  the  matron, 
and  observed  with  great  kindness  of  manner  that  she  must 
really  make  an  effort,  and  cheer  up. 

"  Oh  I  dare  say,  Miss  La  Creevy,"  returned  Mrs.  Nickle- 
by, with  a  petulance  not  unnatural  in  her  unhappy  circum- 
stances, "  it's  very  easy  to  say  cheer  up,  but  if  you  had  as  many 

occasions  to  cheer  up  as  I  have  had and  tliere,"  said  Mrs. 

Nickleby,  stopping  short,  "  Think  of  Mr.  Pyke  and  Mr.  Pluck, 
two  of  the  most  perfect  gentlemen  that  ever  lived,  what  am  I 
to  say  to  them — what  can  I  say  to  them  ?  Why,  if  I  was  to 
say  to  them,  '  I'm  told  your  friend  Sir  Mulberry  is  a  base 
wretch,'  they'd  laugh  at  me." 

"  They  will  laugh  no  more  at  us,  I  take  it,"  said  Nicholas, 
advancing.  "  Come,  mother,  there  is  a  coach  at  the  door, 
and  until  Monday,  at  all  events,  we  will  return  to  our  old 
quarters." 

— "Where  everything  is  ready,  and  a  hearty  welcome  into 
the  bargain,"  added  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  Now,  let  me  go  with 
you  down  stairs." 

But  Mrs.  Nickleby  w^as  not  to  be  so  easily  moved,  for  first 
she  insisted  on  going  up  stairs  to  see  that  nothing  had  been 
left,  and  then  on  going  down  stairs  to  see  that  everything  had 
been  taken  away  ;  and  when  she  was  getting  into  the  coach 
she  had  a  vision  of  a  forgotten  coffee-pot  on  the  back-kitchen 
hob,  and  after  she  was  shut  in,  a  dismal  recollection  of  a  green 


42  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

umbrella  behind  some  unknown  door.     At  last  Nicholas,  in  a 

condition  of  absolute  despair,  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive 

.  away,  and  in  the  unexpected  jerk  of  a   sudden  starting,  Mrs. 

/  Nickleby  lost  a  shilling   among  the   straw,  which  fortunately 

I   confined  her  attention  to  the  coach  until  it  was  too  late  to  re- 

\member  anything  else. 

Having  seen  everything  safely  out,  discharged  the  servant, 
and  locked  the  door,  Nicholas  jumped  into  a  cabriolet  and 
drove  to  a  by-place  near  Golden  Square  where  he  had  ap- 
pointed to  meet  Noggs  ;  and  so  quickly  had  everything  been 
done,  that  it  was  barely  half-past  nine  when  he  reached  the 
place  of  meeting. 

"  Here  is  the  letter  for  Ralph,"  said  Nicholas,  "and  here 
the  key.  When  you  come  to  me  this  evening,  not  a  word  of 
last  night.  Ill  news  travels  fast,  and  they  will  know  it  soon 
enough.     Ha\'e  you  heard  if  he  was  much  hurt  ?  " 

Newman  shook  his  head. 

"  I  will  ascertain  that,  myself,  without  loss  of  time,"  said 
Nicholas. 

"  You  had  better  take  some  rest,"  returned  Newman.  "  You 
are  fevered  and  ill." 

Nicholas  waved  his  hand  carelessly,  and  concealing  the 
indisposition  he  really  felt,  now  that  the  excitement  which 
had  sustained  him  was  over,  took  a  hurried  farewell  of  New- 
man Noggs,  ajnd  left  him. 

Newman  was  not  three  minutes' walk  from  Golden  Square, 
but  in  the  course  of  that  three  minutes  he  took  the  letter  out 
of  his  hat  and  put  it  in  again  twenty  times  at  least.  First  the 
front,  then  the  back,  then  the  sides,  then  the  superscription, 
then  the  seal,  were  objects  of  Newman's  admiration.  Then 
he  held  it  at  arm's  length  as  if  to  take  in  the  whole  at  one 
delicious  survey,  and  then  he  rubbed  his  hands  in  a  perfect 
ecstasy  with  his  commission. 

He  reached  the  office,  hung  his  hat  on  its  accustomed  peg, 
laid  the  letter  and  key  upon  the  desk,  and  waited  impatiently 
until  Ralph  Nickleby  should  appear.  After  a  few  minutes, 
the  well-known  creaking  of  his  boots  was  heard  on  the  stairs, 
and  then  the  bell  rung. 

"  Has  the  post  come  in  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Any  other  letters  ?  " 

"  One."  Newman  eyed  him  closely,  and  laid  it  on  the 
desk. 


NICHOLAS  NICKL  EB  Y.  423 

"What's  this?"  asked  Ralph,  taking  up  the  key. 

"  Left  with  the  letter  ; — a  boy  brought  them — quarter  of 
an  hour  ago,  or  less." 

Ralph  glanced  at  the  direction,  opened  the  letter,  and 
read  as  follows  : 

"  You  are  known  to  me  now.  There  are  no  reproaches  I 
could  heap  upon  your  head  which  would  carry  with  them  one 
thousandth  part  of  the  grovelling  shame  that  this  assurance 
will  awaken  even  in  your  breast. 

"  Your  brother's  widow  and  her  orphan  child  spurn  the 
shelter  of  your  roof,  and  shun  you  with  disgust  and  loathing. 
Your  kindred  renounce  you,  for  they  know  no  shame  but  the 
ties  of  blood  which  bind  them  in  name  with  yoxx. 

"  You  are  an  old  man,  and  I  leave  you  to  the  grave.  May 
every  recollection  of  your  life  cling  to  your  false  heart,  and 
cast  their  darkness  on  your  death-bed." 

Ralph  Nickleby  read  this  letter  twice,  and  frowning  heav- 
ily, fell  into  a  fit  of  musing  ;  the  paper  fluttered  from  his  hand 
and  dropped  upon  the  floor,  but  he  clasped  his  fingers,  as  if 
he  held  it  still. 

Suddenl}^,  he  started  from  his  seat,  and  thrusting  it  all 
crumpled  into  his  pocket,  turned  furiously  to  Newman  Noggs, 
as  though  to  ask  him  why  he  lingered.  But  Newman  stood 
unmoved,  with  his  back  towards  him,  following  up,  with  the 
worn  and  blackened  stump  of  an  old  pen,  some  figures  in  an 
Interest-table  which  was  pasted  against  the  wall,  and  appar- 
ently quite  abstracted  from  every  other  object. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


WHEREIN    MR.  RALPH    NICKLEBY    IS    VISITED    BY  PERSONS    WITH 
WHOM  THE  READER  HAS  BEEN  ALREADY  MADE  ACQUAINTED. 

"  What  a  demnition  long  time  you  have  kept  me  ringing 
at  this  confounded  old  cracked  tea-kettle  of  a  bell,  every  tin- 
kle of  which  is  enough  to  throw  a  strong  man  into  blue 
convulsions,  upon  my  life  and  soul,  oh  demmit,"  said  Mr. 
Mantalini  to  Newman  Noggs,  scraping  his  boots,  as  he  spoke, 
on  Ralph  Nickleby's  scraper. 


424  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  I  didn't  hear  the  bell  more  than  once,"  replied  New- 
man. 

"  Then  you  are  most  immensely  and  outr/geously  deaf," 
said  Mr.  Mantalini,  "  as  deaf  as  a  demnition  post." 

Mr.  Mantalini  had  got  by  this  time  into  the  passage,  and 
was  making  his  way  to  the  door  of  Ralph's  office  with  very 
little  ceremony,  when  Newman  interposed  his  body ;  and 
hinting  that  Mr.  Nickleby  was  unwilling  to  be  disturbed,  in- 
quired whether  the  client's  business  was  of  a  pressing  nature. 

"  It  is  most  demnebly  particular,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini. 
"  It  is  to  melt  some  scraps  of  dirty  paper  into  bright,  shining, 
chinking,  tinkhng,  demd  mint  sauce." 

Newman  uttered  a  significant  grunt,  and  taking  Mr.  Man- 
talini's  proffered  card,  limped  with  it  into  his  master's  ofhce. 
As  he  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door,  he  saw  that  Ralph  had 
resumed  the  thoughtful  posture  into  which  he  had  fallen  after 
perusing  his  nephew's  letter,  and  that  he  seemed  to  have  been 
reading  it  again,  as  he  once  more  held  it  open  in  his  hand. 
The  glance  was  but  momentary,  for  Ralph,  being  disturbed, 
turned  to  demand  the  cause  of  the  interruption. 

As  Newman  stated  it,  the  cause  himself,  swaggered  into 
the  room,  and  grasping  Ralph's  horny  hand  with  uncommon 
affection,  vowed  that  he  had  never  seen  him  looking  so  well 
in  all  his  life. 

"There  is  quite  a  bloom  upon  your  demd  countenance," 
said  Mr.  Mantalini,  seating  himself  unbidden,  and  arranging 
his  hair  and  whiskers.  "  You  look  quite  juvenile  and  jolly, 
demmit  !  " 

"  We  are  alone,"  returned  Ralph,  tartly.  "  What  do  you 
want  with  me  ?  " 

"  Good !  "  cried  Mr.  Mantalini,  displaying  his  teeth. 
"  What  did  I  want !  Yes.  Ha,  ha  !  Very  good.  What  did 
I  want.     Ha,  ha.     Oh  dem  !  " 

"  \\' hat  do  you  want,  man  ?  "  demanded  Ralph,  sternly. 

"  Demnition  discount,"  returned  Mr.  Mantalini,  with  a 
grin,  and  shaking  his  head  waggishly. 

"  Money  is  scarce,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Demd  scarce,  or  I  shouldn't  want  it,"  internipted  Mr. 
Mantalini. 

"  The  times  are  bad,  and  one  scarcely  knows  whom  to 
trust,"  continued  Ralph.  "  I  don't  want  to  do  business  just 
now,  in  fact  I  would  rather  not ;  but  as  you  are  a  friend — how 
many  bills  have  you  there  ?  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  425 

"  Two,"  returned  Mr.  Mantalini. 

"  What  is  the  gross  amount  ?  " 

"  Demd  trifling.     Five-and-seventy." 

"  And  the  dates  ?  " 

"  Two  months,  and  four." 

"I'll  do  them  for  you — wivaA,  iox  you ;  I  wouldn't  for 
many  people — for  five-and-twenty  pounds,"  said  Ralph,  delib- 
erately. 

"  Oh  demmit !  "  cried  Mr.  Mantalini,  whose  face  length- 
ened considerably  at  tliis  handsome  proposal. 

"  Why,  that  leaves  you  fifty,"  retorted  Ralph.  "  What 
would  you  have  ?     Let  me  see  the  names." 

"  You  are  so  demd  hard,  Nickleby,"  remonstrated  Mr. 
Mantalini. 

"  Let  me  see  the  names,"  replied  Ralph,  impatiently  ex- 
tending his  hand  for  the  bills.  "  Well  !  They  are  not  sure, 
but  they  are  safe  enough.  Do  j'^ou  consent  to  the  terms,  and 
will  you  take  the  money  .-•  I  don't  want  you  to  do  so.  I 
would  rather  you  didn't." 

"  Demmit,  Nickleby,  can't  you — "  began  Mr.  Mantalini. 

"  No,"  replied  Ralph,  interrupting  him.  "  I  can't.  Will 
you  take  the  money — down,  mind  ;  no  delay,  no  going  into 
the  city  and  pretending  to  negotiate  with  some  other  party 
who  has  no  existence  and  never  had.  Is  it  a  bargain  or  is  it 
not  ?  " 

Ralph  pushed  some  papers  from  him  as  he  spoke,  and 
carelessly  rattled  his  cash-box,  as  though  by  mere  accident. 
The  sound  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Mantalini.  He  closed  the 
bargain  directly  it  reached  his  ears,  and  Ralph  told  the  money 
out  upon  the  table. 

He  had  scarcely  done  so,  and  Mr.  Mantalini  had  not  yet 
gathered  it  all  up,  when  a  ring  was  heard  at  the  bell,  and  im- 
mediately afterwards  Newman  ushered  in  no  less  a  person 
than  Madame  Mantalini,  at  sight  of  whom  Mr.  Mantalini 
evinced  considerable  discomposure,  and  swept  the  cash  into 
his  pocket  with  remarkable  alacrity. 

"  Oh,  you  ai-e  here,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  tossing  her 
head. 

"  Yes,  my  life  and  soul,  I  am,"  replied  her  husband,  drop- 
ping on  his  knees,  and  pouncing  with  kitten-like  playfulness 
upon  a  stray  sovereign.  "  I  am  here,  my  soul's  delight,  upon 
Tom  Tiddler's  ground,  picking  up  the  demnition  gold  and 
silver." 


426 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  I  am  ashamed  of  you,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  with 
much  indignation. 

"  Ashamed  ?  Of  me,  my  joy  ?  It  knows  it  is  talking 
demd  charming  sweetness,  but  naughty  fibs,"  returned  Mr. 
MantaUni.  "  It  knows  it  is  not  ashamed  of  its  own  popo- 
lorum  tibby." 

Wliatever  were  the  circumstances  which  had  led  to  such  a 
result,  it  certainly  appeared  as  though  the  popolorum  tibby 
had  rather  miscalculated,  for  the  nonce,  the  extent  of  his  lady's 
affection.  Madame  Mantalini  only  looked  scornful  in  reply, 
and,  turning  to  Ralph,  begged  him  to  excuse  her  intrusion. 

"Which  is  entirely  attributable,"  said  Madame,  "to  the 
gross  misconduct  and  most  improper  behavior  of  Mr.  Man- 
talini." 

"  Of  me,  my  essential  juice  of  pine-apple  !  " 

"  Of  you,"  returned  his  wife.  "  But  I  will  not  allow  it.  I 
will  not  submit  to  be  ruined  by  the  extravagance  and  prof- 
ligacy of  any  man.  I  call  Mr.  Nickleby  to  witness  the  course 
I  intend  to  pursue  with  you." 

"  Pray  don't  call  me  to  witness  anything,  ma'am,"  said 
Ralph.  "  Settle  it  between  yourselves,  settle  it  between  j^our- 
selves." 

"  No,  but  I  must  beg  you  as  a  favor,"  said  Madame  Man- 
talini, "  to  hear  me  gi\e  him  notice  of  what  it  is  my  fixed 
intention  to  do — my  fixed  intention,  sir,"  repeated  Madame 
Mantalini,  darting  an  angry  look  at  her  husband. 

"  Will  she  calT  me,  '  Sir  '  !  "  cried  Mantalini.  "  Me  who 
doat  upon  her  with  the  demdest  ardor  !  She,  who  coils  her 
fascinations  round  me  like  a  pure  and  angelic  rattlesnake  !  It 
will  be  all  up  with  my  feelings  ;  she  will  throw  me  into  a  demd 
state." 

"Don't  talk  of  feelings,  sir,"  rejoined  Madame  Mantalini, 
seating  herself,  and  turning  her  back  upon  him.  "  You  don't 
consider  mine." 

"  I  do  not  consider  j^ours,  my  soul  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Man- 
talini. 

"  No,"  replied  his  wife. 

And  notwithstanding  various  blandishments  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Mantalini,  Madame  Mantalini  still  said  no,  and  said  it 
too  with  such  determined  and  resolute  ill-temper,  that  Mr. 
Mantalini  was  clearly  taken  aback. 

"  His  extravagance,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Madame  Man- 
talini,  addressing  herself    to   Ralph,  who  leant  against   his 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


427 


Kasy-chair  wlLh  his  hands  behind  him,  and  regarded  the 
amiable  couple  with  a  smile  of  the  supremest  and  most 
unmitigated  contempt,  "  his  extravagance  is  beyond  all 
bounds." 

"  I  should  scarcely  have  supposed  it,"  answered  Ralph 
sarcastically. 

"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Nickleby,  however,  that  it  is,"  re- 
turned Madame  Mantalini.  "  It  makes  me  miserable.  I  am 
under  constant  apprehensions  and  in  constant  difficulty. 
And  even  this,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  wiping  her  eyes,  ''  is 
not  the  worst.  He  took  some  papers  of  value  out  of  my  desk 
this  morning  without  asking  my  permission." 

Mr.  Mantalini  groaned  slightly,  and  buttoned  his  trouser's 
pocket. 

"I  am  obliged,"  continued  Madame  Mantalini,  "since  our 
late  misfortunes,  to  pay  Miss  Knagg  a  great  deal  of  money 
for  having  her  name  in  the  business,  and  I  really  cannot 
afford  to  encourage  him  in  all  his  wastefulness.  As  I  have 
no  doubt  that  he  came  straight  here,  Mr.  Nickleby,  to  con- 
vert the  papers  I  have  spoken  of  into  money,  and  as  you 
have  assisted  us  very  often  before,  and  are  very  much  con- 
nected with  us  in  this  kind  of  matters,  1  wish  you  to  know 
the  determination  at  which  his  conduct  has  compelled  me 
to  arrive." 

Mr.  Mantalini  groaned  once  more  from  behind  his  wife's 
bonnet,  and  fitting  a  sovereign  into  one  of  his  eyes,  winked 
with  the  other  at  Ralph.  Having  achieved  this  performance 
with  great  dexterity,  he  whipped  the  coin  into  his  pocket,  and 
groaned  again  with  increased  penitence. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  as 
tokens  of  impatience  manifested  themselves  in  Ralph's  coun- 
tenance, "to  allowance  him." 

"  To  do  what,  my  joy .''  "  inquired  Mr.  Mantalini,  who  did 
not  seem  to  have  caught  the  words. 

"  To  put  him,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  looking  at  Ralph, 
and  prudently  abstaining  from  the  slightest  glance  at  her  hus- 
band, lest  his  many  graces  should  induce  her  to  falter  in  her 
resolution,  "  to  put  him  upon  a  fixed  allowance  ;  and  I  say 
that  if  he  has  a  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  a-year  for  his 
clothes  and  pocket-money,  he  may  consider  himself  a  very 
fortunate  man." 

Mr.  Mantalini  waited,  with  much  decorum,  to  hear  the 
amount  of  the  proposed  stipend,  but  when  it  reached  his  ears, 


428  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

he  cast  his  hat  and  cane  upon  the  floor,  and  drawing  out  his 
pocket-handkerchief,  gave  vent  to  his  feehngs  in  a  dismal 
moan. 

"  Demnition  ! "  cried  Mr.  Mantalini,  suddenly  skipping 
out  of  his  chair,  and  as  suddenly  skipping  into  it  again,  to  the 
great  discomposure  of  his  lady's  nerves.  "  But  no.  It  is  a 
demd  horrid  dream.     It  is  not  reality.     No  !  " 

Comforting  himself  with  this  assurance,  Mr.  Mantalini 
closed  his  eyes  and  waited  patiently  till  such  time  as  he  should 
wake  up. 

"  A  very  judicious  arrangement,"  observed  Ralph  with  a 
sneer,  "  if  your  husband  will  keep  within  it,  ma'  am — as  no 
doubt  he  will." 

"  Demmit !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Mantalini,  opening  his  eyes 
at  the  sound  of  Ralph's  voice,  "  it  is  a  horrid  reality.  She  is 
sitting  there  before  me.  There  is  the  graceful  outline  of  her 
form  ;  it  cannot  be  mistaken — there  is  nothing  like  it.  The 
two  countesses  had  no  outlines  at  all,  and  the  dowager's  was 
a  demd  outline.  Why  is  she  so  excruciatingly  beautiful  that 
I  cannot  be  angry  with  her,  even  now  ?  " 

"  You  have  brought  it  upon  yourself,  Alfred,"  returned 
Madame  Mantalini — still  reproachfully,  but  in  a  softened  tone. 

"  I  am  a  demd  villain  !  "  cried  Mr.  Mantalini,  smiting 
himself  on  the  head.  "  I  will  fill  my  pockets  with  change  for 
a  sovereign  in  halfpence  and  drown  myself  in  the  Thames  ; 
but  I  will  not  be  angry  with  her,  even  then,  for  I  will  put  a 
note  in  the  twopenny-post  as  I  go  along,  to  tell  her  where  the 
body  is.  She  will  be  a  lovely  widow.  I  shall  be  a  body. 
Some  handsome  women  will  cry  ;  she  will  laugh  demnebly." 

"  Alfred,  you  cruel,  cruel,  creature,"  said  Madame  Manta- 
lini, sobbing  at  the  dreadful  picture. 

"  She  calls  me  cruel — me — me — who  for  her  sake  will  be- 
come a  demd,  damp,  moist,  unpleasant  body !  "  exclaimed 
Mr.  Mantalini. 

"  You  know  it  almost  breaks  my  heart,  even  to  hear  you 
talk  of  such  a  thing,  replied  Madame  Mantalini. 

"  Can  I  live  to  be  mistrusted  1 "  cried  her  husband. 
"  Have  I  cut  my  heart  into  a  demd  extraordinary  number  ot 
little  pieces,  and  given  them  all  away,  one  after  another,  to 
the  same  little  engrossing  demnition  captivater,  and  can  I  live 
to  be  suspected  by  !ier !     Demmit,  no  I  can't." 

"  Ask  Mr.  Nickleby  whether  the  sum  I  have  mentioned  is 
not  a  proper  one,"  reasoned  Madame  Mantalini. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  429 

"  I  don't  want  any  sum,"  replied  her  disconsolate  husband  ; 
"  I  shall  require  no  demd  allowance.     I  will  be  a  body." 

On  this  repetition  of  Mr.  Mantalini's  fatal  threat,  Madame 
Mantalini  wrung  her  hands,  and  implored  the  interference  of 
Ralph  Nickleby ;  and  after  a  great  quantity  of  tears  and  talk- 
ing, and  several  attempts  on  the,  part  of  Mr.  Mantalini  to 
reach  the  door,  preparatory  to  straightway  committing  vio- 
lence upon  himself,  that  gentleman  w^as  prevailed  upon  with 
difficulty,  to  promise  that  he  wouldn't  be  a  body.  This  great 
pomt  attained,  Madame  Mantalini  argued  the  question  of  the 
allowance,  and  Mr.  Mantalini  did  the  same,  taking  occasion 
to  show  that  he  could  live  with  uncommon  satisfaction  upon 
bread  and  water,  and  go  clad  in  rags,  but  that  he  could  not 
support  existence  with  the  additional  burden  of  being  mis- 
trusted by  the  object  of  his  most  devoted  and  disinterested 
affection.  This  brought  fresh  tears  into  Madame  Mantalini's 
eyes,  which  ha\ing  just  begun  to  open  to  some  few  of  the  de- 
merits of  Mr.  Mantalini,  were  only  open  a  very  little  way,  and 
could  be  easily  closed  again.  The  result  was,  that  without 
quite  giving  up  the  allowance  question  Madame  Mantalini 
postponed  its  further  consideration  ;  and  Ralph  saw,  clearly 
enough,  that  Mr.  Mantalini  had  gained  a  fresh  lease  of  his 
easy  life,  and  that,  for  some  time  longer  at  all  events,  his  deg- 
radation and  downfall  were  postponed. 

"  But  it  will  come  soon  enough,"  thought  Ralph  ;  "  all_ 
love— bah  !  that  I  should  use  the  cant  of  boys  and  girls^s 
fie e 1 1  ji^glTpugTi  ;  "though  that  which  has  its  sole  root  in  the 
admiration  of  a  whiskered  face  like  that  of  yonder  baboon, 
perhaps  lasts  the  longest,  as  it  originates  in  the  greater  blind- 
ness and  is  fed  by  vanity.  Meantime  the  fools  bring  grist  to 
my  mill,  so  let  them  live  out  their  day,  and  the  longer  it  is, 
the  better." 

These  agreeable  reflections  occurred  to  Ralph  Nickleby, 
as  sundry  small  caresses  and  endearments,  supposed  to  be 
unseen,  were  exchanged  between  the  objects  of  his  thoughts. 

"  If  you  have  nothing  more  to  say,  my  dear,  to  Mr. 
Nickleby,"  said  Madame  Mantalini,  "  we  will  take  our  leaves. 
I  am  sure  we  have  detained  him  much  too  long  already." 

Mr.  Mantalini  answered,  in  the  first  instance,  by  tapping 
Madame  Mantalini  several  times  on  the  nose,  and  then,  by 
remarking  in  words  that  he  had  nothing  more  to  say. 

"  Demmit !  I  have,  though,"  he  added  almost  immediately, 
drawing  Ralph  into  a  corner.     "  Here's  an  affair  about  3'our 


^3o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

friend  Sir  Mulberry.     Such  a  demd  extraordinary  out-of-the- 
way  kind  of  thing  as  never  was  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Ralph. 

"  Don't  you  know,  demmit  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Mantalini. 

"  I  see  by  the  paper  that  he  was  thrown  from  his  cabriolet 
last  night,  and  severely  injujed,  and  that  his  life  is  in  some 
danger,"  answered  Ralph  with  great  composure  ;  "  but  I  see 
nothing  extraordinary  in  that.  Accidents  are  not  miraculous 
events,  when  men  live  hard,  and  drive  after  dinner." 

"  Whew  I "  cried  Mr.  Mantalini  in  a  long  shrill  whistle. 
"  Then  don't  you  know  how  it  was  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  it  was  as  I  have  just  supposed,"  replied 
Ralph,  shrugging  his  shoulders  carelessly,  as  if  to  give  his 
questioner  to  "understand  that  he  had  no  curiosity  upon  the 
subject. 

'"•  Demmit,  you  amaze  me!  "  cried  Mantalini. 

Ralph  shrugged  his  shoulders  again,  as  if  it  were  no  great 
feat  to  amaze  Mr.  Mantalini,  and  cast  a  wistful  glance  at  the 
face  of  Newman  Noggs,  which  had  se\eral  times  appeared 
behind  a  couple  of  panes  of  glass  in  the  room  door  ;  it  being 
a  part  of  Newman's  duty,  when  unimportant  people  called,  to 
make  various  feints  of  supposing  that  the  bell  had  rung  for 
him  to  show  them  out ;  by  way  of  a  gentle  hint  to  such  vis- 
itors that  it  was  time  to  go. 

"  Don't  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  taking  Ralph  by 
the  button,  ''  that  it  wasn't  an  accident  at  all,  but  a  demd, 
furious,  manslaughtering  attack  made  upon  him  by  your 
nephew  ? " 

"What!  "  snarled  Ralph,  clenching  his  fists  and  turning 
a  li\id  white. 

"  Demmit,  Nickleby,  you're  as  great  a  tiger  as  he  is,"  said 
Mantalini,  alarmed  at  these  demonstrations. 

,  "  Go  on,"  cried  Ralph.  "  Tell  me  what  you  mean.  What 
is  this  stor\'  ?  Who  told  you  ?  Speak,"  growled  Ralph.  "  Do 
you  hear  me  ?  " 

"  'Gad,  Nickleby,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  retreating  towards 
his  wife,  "  what  a  demneble  fierce  old  evil  genius  you  are  I 
You're  enough  to  frighten  my  life  and  soul  out  of  her  little 
delicious  wits— Hying  all  at  once  into  such  a  blazing,  ra\aging, 
raging  passion  as  never  was,  demmit !  " 

"Pshaw,"  rejoined  Ralph,  forcing  a  smile.  "It  is  but 
manner." 

"  It  is  a  demd  uncomfortable,  private-madhouse-sort  of 
manner,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  picking  up  his  cane. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  43 1 

Ralph  affected  to  smile,  and  once  more  inquired  from 
whom  Mr.  Mantalini  had  derived  his  information. 

"From  Pyke.  And  a  demd,  fine,  pleasant,  gentlemanly 
dog  it  is,"  replied  Mantalini.  "  Demnition  pleasant,  and  a 
tip-top  sawyer." 

"  And  what  said  he  ?  "  asked  Ralph,  knitting  his  brows, 

"  That  it  happened  this  way — that  your  nephew  met  him 
at  a  coffee-house,  fell  upon  him  with  the  most  demneble  fe- 
rocity, followed  him  to  his  cab,  swore  he  would  ride  home  with 
him,  if  he  rode  upon  the  horse's  back  or  hooked  himself  on  to 
the  horse's  tail,  smashed  his  countenance,  which  is  a  demd 
fine  countenance  in  its  natural  state,  frightened  the  horse, 
pitched  out  Sir  Mulberry  and  himself,  and — " 

"  And  was  killed  ?  "  interposed  Ralph  with  gleaming  eyes, 
"  Was  he  ?     Is  he  dead .?  " 

Mantalini  shook  his  head. 

"  Ugh,"  said  Ralph,  turning  away.  "  Then  he  has  done 
nothing.  Stay  !  "  he  added,  looking  round  again.  "  He  broke 
a  leg  or  an  arm,  or  put  his  shoulder  out,  or  fractured  his  col- 
lar-bone, or  ground  a  rib  or  two  ?  His  neck  was  saved  for 
the  halter,  but  he  got-  some  painful  and  slow-healing  injury 
for  his  trouble  }  Did  he  ?  You  must  have  heard  that,  at 
least." 

"No,"  rejoined  Mantalini,  shaking  his  head  again.  "  Un- 
less he  was  clashed  into  such  little  pieces  that  they  blew  away, 
he  wasn't  hurt,  for  he  went  off  as  quiet  and  comfortable  as 
— as — as  demnition,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  rather  at  a  loss  for 
a  simile. 

"  And  what,"  said  Ralph,  hesitating  a  little,  "  what  was 
the  cause  of  quarrel .''  " 

"You  are  the  demdest,knowinghand,"  replied  Mr.  Manta- 
lini, in  an  admiring  tone,  "the  cunningest,  rummest,  superlativ- 
est  old  fox — oh  dem  ! — to  pretend  now  not  to  know  that  it  was 
the  little  bright-eyed  niece — the  softest,  sweetest,  prettiest " 

"  Alfred  !  "  interposed  Madame  Mantalini. 

"  She  is  always  right,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mantalini  soothingly, 
"  and  when  she  says  it  is  time  to  go,  it  is  time,  and  so  she 
shall ;  and  when  she  walks  along  the  streets  with  her  own 
tulip,  the  women  shall  say  with  envy,  she  has  got  a  demd  fine 
husband  ;  and  the  men  shall  say  with  rapture,  he  has  got  a 
demd  fine  wife  ;  and  they  shall  both  be  right  and  neither  wrong, 
upon  my  life  and  soul — oh  demmit  ! " 

With  which  remarks,  and  many  more,  no   less  intellectual 


432 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


and  to  the  purpose,  Mr.  Mantalini  kissed  the  fin_a;ers  of  his 
gloves  to  Ralph  Nickleby,  and  drawing  his  lady's  arm  through 
his,  led  her  mincingly  away. 

"So,  so,"  muttered  Ralph  dropping  into  his  chair;  "this 
devil  is  loose  again,  and  thwarting  me,  as  he  was  born  to  do, 
at  every  turn.  He  told  me  once  there  should  be  a  day  of 
reckoning  between  us,  sooner  or  later.  I'll  make  him  a  true 
prophet,  for  it  shall  surely  come." 

"Are  you  at  home.''"  asked  Newman,  suddenly  popping 
in  his  head. 

"  No,"  replied  Ralph,  with  equal  abruptness. 

Newman  withdrew  his  head,  but  thrust  it  in  again. 

"  You're  quite  sure  you're  not  at  home,  are  you  ?  "  said 
Newman. 

"  What  does  the  idiot  mean  .'  "  cried  Ralph,  testily. 

"  He  has  been  waiting  nearly  ever  since  they  first  came  in, 
and  may  have  heard  your  voice ;  that's  all,"  said  Newman, 
rubbing  his  hands. 

"  Who  has  .''  "  demanded  Ralph,  wrought  by  the  intelligence 
he  had  just  heard,  and  his  clerk's  provoking  coolness,  to  an 
intense  pitch  of  irritation. 

The  necessity  of  a  reply  was  superseded  by  the  unlooked- 
for  entrance  of  a  third  party — the  individual  in  question — who, 
bringing  his  one  eye  (for  he  had  but  one)  to  bear  on  Ralph 
Nickleby,  made  a  great  many  shambling  bows,  and  sat  him- 
self down  in  an  arm  chair,  with  his  hands  on  his  knees,  and 
,his  short  black  trousers  drawn  up  so  high  in  the  legs  by  the 
exertion  of  seating  himself,  that  they  scarcely  reached  below 
the  tops  of  his  Wellington  boots. 

"Why,  this  is  a  surprise  !"  said  Ralph,  bending  his  gaze 
upon  the  visitor,  and  half  smiling  as  he  scrutinized  him  atten- 
tively ;  "  I  should  know  your  face,  Mr.  Squeers." 

"  Ah  !  "  replied,  that  worthy,  "  and  you  have  know'd  it 
better,  sir,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  all  that  I've  been  a  going 
through.  Just  lift  that  little  boy  off  the  tall  stool  in  the  back 
ofilice,  and  tell  hini  to  come  in  here,  will  you,  my  man  ?  "  said 
Squeers,  addressing  himself  to  Newman.  "  Oh,  he's  lifted  his- 
self  off !  My  son,  sir,  little  Wackford.  What  do  you  think  of 
him,  sir,  for  a  specimen  of  the  Dotheboys  Hall  feeding? 
Ain't  he  fit  to  bust  out  of  his  clothes,  and  start  the  seams,  and 
make  the  very  buttons  fly  off  with  his  fatness  ?  Here's  flesh  !  " 
cried  Squeers,  turning  the  boy  about,  and  indenting  the 
plumpest  parts  of  his  figure  with  divers  pokes  and  punches,  to 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  432 

the  great  discomposure  of  his  son  and  heir.  "  Here's  firm- 
ness, here's  solidness  !  Why  you  can  hardly  get  up  enough 
of  him  between  your  finger  and  thumb  to  pinch  him  any- 
wheres." 

In  however  good  condition  Master  Squeers  might  have 
been,  he  certainly  did  not  present  this  remarkable  "compact- 
ness of  person,  for  on  his  father's  closing  his  finger  and 
thumb  in  illustration  of  his  remark,  he  uttered  a  sharp  cry, 
and  rubbed  the  place  in  the  most  natural  manner  possible. 

"Well,"  remarked  Squeers,  a  little  disconcerted,  "I  had 
him  there  ;  but  that's  because  we  breakfasted  early  this  morn- 
ing, and  he  hasn't  had  his  lunch  yet.  Why  you  couldn't  shut 
a  bit  of  him  in  a  door,  when  he's  had  his  dinner.  Look  at 
them  tears,  sir,"  said  Squeers,  with  a  triumphant  air,  as  Master 
Wackford  wiped  his  eyes  with  the  cufif  of  his  jacket,  "  there's 
oiliness  !  " 

"  He  looks  well,  indeed,"  returned  Ralph,  who,  for  some 
purposes  of  his  own,  seemed  desirous  to  conciliate  the  school- 
master.    "  But  how  is  Mrs.  Squeers,  and  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Squeers,  sir,"  replied  the  proprietor  of  Dothe- 
boys,_ "  is  as  she  always  is — a  motlier  to  them  lads,  and  a 
blessing,  and  a  comfort,  and  a  joy  to  all  them  as  knows  her. 
One  of  our  boys — gorging  his-self  with  \ittles,  and  then  turning 
ill  ;  that's  their  way — got  a  abscess  on  him  last  week.  To 
see  how  she  operated  upon  him  with  a  penknife  !  Oh  Lor  !  " 
said  Squeers,  heaving  a  sigh,  and  nodding  his  head  a  great 
many  times,  "  what  a  member  of  society  that  woman  is  !  " 

Mr.  Squeers  indulged  in  a  retrospective  look,  for  some 
quarter  of  a  minute,  as  if  this  allusion  to  his  lady's  excellences 
had  naturally  led  his  mind  to  the  peaceful  village  of  Dothe- 
boys  near  Greta  Bridge  in  Yorkshire  ;  and  he  then  looked  at 
Ralph,  as  if  waiting  for  him  to  say  something. 

"  Have  you  quite  recovered  that  scoundrel's  attack  ?  " 
asked  Ralph. 

"  I've  only  just  done  it,  if  I've  done  it  now,"  replied 
Squeers.  "  I  was  one  blessed  bruise,  sir,"  said  Squeers,  touch- 
ing first  the  roots  of  his  hair,  and  then  the  toes  of  his  boots, 
'■'ixova  here  \o  there.  Vinegar  and  brown  paper,  vinegar  and 
brown  paper,  from  morning  to  night.  I  suppose  tliere  was 
a  matter  of  half  a  ream  of  brown  paper  stuck  upon  me,  from 
first  to  last.  As  I  laid  all  of  a  heap  in  our  kitchen,  plastered  all 
over,  you  might  have  thought  I  was  a  large  brown  paper  par- 
cel,  chock  full    of    nothing    but  groans.     Did  I  groan   loud, 

28 


434  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Wackford,  or  did  I  groan  soft  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Squeers,  appeal- 
ing to  his  son. 

"  Loud,"  replied  Wackford. 

"  Was  the  boys  sorry  to  see  me  in  such  a  dreadful  condi- 
tion, Wackford,  or  was  they  glad  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Squeers,  in  a 
sentimental  manner. 

"Gl— " 

"  Eh  ?  "  cried  Squeers,  turning  sharp  round. 

"  Sorry,"  rejoined  the  son. 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Squeers,  catching  him  a  smart  box  on  the 
ear.  "  Then  take  your  hands  out  of  your  pockets,  and  don't 
stammer  when  you're  asked  a  question.  Hold  your  noise, 
sir,  in  a  gentleman's  office,  or  I'll  run  away  from  my  family 
and  never  come  back  any  more  ;  and  then  what  would  be- 
come of  all  them  precious  and  forlorn  lads  as  would  be  let 
loose  on  the  world,  without  their  best  friend  at  their  elbers  !  " 

"  Were  you  obliged  to  have  medical  attendance  ?  "  in- 
quired Ralph. 

"Ay,  was  I,"  rejoined  Squeers,  "and  a  precious  bill  the 
medical  attendant  brought  in  too  ;  but  I  paid  it  though." 

Ralph  elevated  his  eyebrows  in  a  manner  which  might  be 
well  expressive  of  either  sympathy  or  astonishment.  Just  as 
the  beholder  was  pleased  to  take  it. 

"Yes,  I  paid  it,  every  farthing,"  replied  Squeers,  who 
seemed  to  know  the  man  he  had  to  deal  with  too  well  to 
suppose  that  any  blinking  of  the  question  would  induce  him 
to  subscribe  towards  the  expenses  ;  "  1  wasn't  out  of  pocket 
by  it  after  all,  either." 

"  No  >  "  said  Ralph. 

"  Not  a  halfpenny,"  replied  Squeers.  "  The  fact  is,  we 
have  only  one  extra  with  our  boys,  and  that  is  for  doctors 
when  required — and  not  then,  unless  we're  sure  of  our  cus- 
tomers.    Do  you  see  .'  " 

"  I  understand,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Very  good,"  rejoined  Squeers.  "  Then,  after  my  bill 
was  run  up,  we  picked  out  five  little  boys  (sons  of  small 
tradesmen,  as  was  sure  pay)  that  had  never  had  the  scarlet 
fever,  and  we  sent  one  to  a  cottage  where  they'd  got  it.  and 
he  took  it,  and  then  we  put  the  four  others  to  sleep  with  him, 
and  they  took  it,  and  then  the  doctor  came  and  attended 
'em  once  all  round,  and  we  divided  my  total  among  'em  and 
added  it  on  their  little  bills,  and  the  parents  paid  it.  Ha ! 
ha  !  ha '  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


435 


"And  a  good  plan  too,"  said  Ralph,  eyeing  the  school- 
master stealthily. 

"  1  believe  you,"  rejoined  Squeers.  "  We  always  do  it. 
Why,  when  Mrs.  Squeers  was  brought  to  bed  with  little 
Wackford  here,  we  ran  the  hooping-cough  through  half  a 
dozen  boys,  and  charged  her  expenses  among  'em,  monthly 
nurse  included.     Ha  !  ha  1  ha  !  " 

Ralph  never  laughed,  but  on  this  occasion  he  produced 
the  nearest  approach  to  it  that  he  could,  and  waiting  until 
Mr.  Squeers  had  enjoyed  the  professional  joke  to  his  heart's 
content,  inquired  what  had  brought  him  to  town. 

"  Some  bothering  law  business,"  replied  Squeers,  scratch- 
ing his  head,  "  connected  with  an  action,  for  what  they  call 
neglect  of  a  boy.  I  don't  know  what  they  would  have.  He 
had  as  good  grazing,  that  boy  had,  as  there  is  about  us." 

Ralph  looked  as  if  he  did  not  quite  understand  the  obser- 
vation. 

"Grazing,"  said  Squeers,  raising  his  voice,  under  the  im- 
pression that  as  Ralph  failed  to  comprehend  him,  he  must  be 
deaf.  ''  When  a  boy  gets  weak  and  ill  and  don't  relish  his 
meals,  we  give  him  a  change  of  diet — turn  him  out,  for  an 
hour  or  so  every  day,  into  a  neighbor's  turnip  field,  or  some- 
times, if  it's  a  delicate  case,  a  turnip  field  a  piece-  of  carrots 
alternately,  and  let  him  eat  as  many  as  he  likes.  There  ain't 
better  land  in  the  county  than  this  perwerse  lad  grazed  on, 
and  yet  he  goes  and  catches  cold  and  indigestion  and  what 
not,  and  then  his  friends  brings  a  lawsuit  against  me/  Now, 
you'd  hardly  suppose,"  added  Squeers,  moving  in  his  chair 
with  the  impatience  of  an  ill-used  man,  "  that  people's  ingrati- 
tude would  carry  them  quite  as  far  as  that ;  would  you  ?  " 

"  A  hard  case,  indeed,"  observed  Ralph. 

"  You  don't  say  more  than  the  truth  when  you  say  that," 
replied  Squeers.  "  I  don't  suppose  there's  a  man  going,  as 
possesses  the  fondness  for  youth  that  I  do.  There's  youth 
to  the  amount  of  eight  hundred  pound  a-year,  at  Dotheboys 
Hall  at  this  present  time.  I'd  take  si.xteen  hundred  pound 
worth,  if  I  could  get  'em,  and  be  as  fond  of  ever}-  individual 
twenty  pound  among  'em  as  nothing  should  equal  it  ?  " 

"  Are  you  stopping  at  your  old  quarters  ?  "  asked  Ralph. 

"Yes,  we  are  to  the  Saracen,"  replied  Squeers,  "and  as  it 
don't  want  very  long  to  the  end  of  the  half-year,  we  shall 
continney  to  sto])  there,  till  I've  collected  the  money,  and 
some  new  boys  too,  I  hope.     I've  brought  little  Wackford  up, 


43^ 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


on  purpose  to  show  to  parents  and  guardians.  I  shall  put 
him  in  the  advertisement,  this  time.  Look  at  that  boy — him- 
self a  pupil.     Why  he's  a  miracle  of  high  feeding,  that   boy 

is  !  " 

"  I  should  like  to  have  a  word  with  you,"  said  Ralph,  who 
had  both  spoken  and  listened  mechanically  for  some  time, 
and  seemed  to  have  been  thinking. 

"As  many  words  as  you  like,  sir,"  rejoined  Squeers. 
"  Wackford,  you  go  and  play  in  the  back  office,  and  don't 
move  about  too  much,  or  you'll  get  thin,  and  that  won't  do. 
you  haven't  got  such  a  thing  as  twopence,  Mr.  Nickleby,  have 
you  ? "  said  Squeers,  rattling  a  bunch  of  keys  in  his  coat 
pocket,  and  muttering  something  about  its  being  all  silver, 

"  I — think  I  have,"  said  Ralph,  very  slowly,  and  produc- 
ing, after  much  rummaging  in  an  old  drawer,  a  penny,  a  half- 
penny, and  two  farthings. 

"  Thankee,"  said  Squeers,  bestowing  it  upon  his  son. 
"  Here  !  You  go  and  buy  a  tart — Mr.  Nickleby's  man  will 
show  you  where — -and  mind  you  buy  a  rich  one.  Pastry,"  added 
Squeers,  closing  the  door  on  Master  Wackford,  "  makes  his 
flesh  shine  a  good  deal,  and  parents   thinks   that  a  healthy 


sign." 


With  this  explanation,  and  a  peculiarly  knowing  look  to 
eke  it  out,  Mr.  Squeers  moved  his  chair  so  as  to  bring  him- 
self opposite  to  Ralph  Nickleby  at  no  great  distance  off ;  and 
having  planted  it  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  sat  down. 

"  Attend  to  me,"  said  Ralph,  bending  forward  a  little. 

Squeers  nodded. 

"  I  am  not  to  suppose,"  said  Ralph,  "  that  you  are  dolt 
enough  to  forgive  or  forget,  ver}'  readily,  the  violence  that 
was  committed  upon  you,  or  the  exposure  whicl?  accompanied 
it  ? " 

"Devil  a  bit,"  replied  Squeeis,  tartly. 

"Or  to  lose  an  opportunity  of  repaying  it  with  interest, 
if  you  could  get  one  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  Show  me  one,  and  try,"  rejoined  Squeers. 

"  Some  such  object  it  was,  that  induced  you  to  call  on 
me  ?  "  said  Ralph,  raising  his  eyes  to  the  schoolmaster's  face. 

"N — n — no,  I  don't  know  that,"  replied  Squeers.  "I 
thought  that  if  it  was  in  your  power  to  make  me,  besides  the 
trifle  of  money  you  sent,  any  compensation " 

"Ah  !  "  cried  Ralph,  interrupting  him.  "  You  needn't  go 
on." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  43  7 

After  a  long  pause,  during  which  Ralph  appeared  ab- 
sorbed in  contemplation,  he  again  broke  silence,  by  asking  : 

"  Who  is  this  boy  that  he  took  with  him  ?  " 

Squeers  stated  his  name. 

"  Was  he  young  or  old,  healthy  or  sickly,  tractable  or 
rebellious  ?     Speak  out,  man,"  retorted  Ralph. 

"  Why,  he  wasn't  young,"  answered  Squeers ;  "  that  is, 
not  young  for  a  boy,  you  know." 

"  That  is,  he  was  not  a  boy  at  all,  I  suppose  .''  "  interrupted 
Ralph. 

"  Well,"  returned  Squeers  briskly,  as  if  he  felt  relieved  by 
the  suggestion,  "  he  might  have  been  nigh  twenty.  He 
wouldn't  seem  so  old,  though,  to  them  as  didn't  know  him,  for 
he  was  a  little  wanting  here,"  touching  his  forehead  ;  "  nobody 
at  home  you  know,  if  you  knocked  ever  so  often." 

"  And  you  did  knock  pretty  often,. I  dare  say  ?  "  muttered 
Ralph. 

"  Pretty  well,"  returned  Squeers  with  a  grin. 

"  W^ien  you  wrote  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  this  trifle 
of  money  as  you  call  it,"  said  Ralph,  "  you  told  me  his  friends 
had  deserted  him  long  ago,  and  that  you  had  not  the  faintest 
clue  or  trace  to  tell  you  who  he  was.     Is  that  the  truth  >.  " 

"  It  is,  worse  luck  !  "  replied  Squeers,  becoming  more  and 
more  easy  and  familiar  in  his  manner,  as  Ralph  pursued  his 
inquiries  with  the  less  reserve.  "  It's  fourteen  3-ears  ago,  by 
the  entr}^  in  my  book,  since  a  strange  man  brought  him  to  my 
place,  one  autumn  night,  and  left  him  there  :  paying  five 
pound  five,  for  his  first  quarter  in  advance.  He  might  have 
been  five  or  six  year  old  at  that  time,  not  more." 

"  What  more  do  you  know  about  him  t  "  demanded  Ralph. 

"  Devilish  little,  I'm  sorry  to  say,"  replied  Squeers.  "  The 
money  was  paid,  for  some  six  or  eight  year,  and  then  it 
stopped.  He  had  given  an  address  in  London,  had  this 
chap  ;  but  when  it  came  to  the  point,  of  course  nobody  know- 
ed  any  thing  about  him.     So  I  kept  the  lad  out  of — out  of — " 

"  Charity  .-'  "  suggested  Ralph  dryly. 

"  Charity,  to  be  sure,"  returned  Squeers,  rubbing  his  knees, 
"  and  when  he  begins  to  be  useful  in  a  certain  sort  of  way, 
this  young  scoundrel  of  a  Nickleby  comes  and  carries  him 
off.  But  the  most  vexatious  and  aggeravating  part  of  the 
whole  affair  is,"  said  Squeers,  dropping  his  voice,  and  drawing 
his  chair  still  closer  to  Ralph,  "  that  some  questions  have 
been  asked  about  him  at  last ;  not  of  me,  but,  in  a  round- 


438 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


about  kind  of  way,  of  people  in  our  village.  So,  that  just  when 
1  might  have  had  all  arrears  paid  up,  perhaps,  and  perhaps — 
who  "knows  ?  such  things  have  happened  in  our  business  be- 
fore— a  present  besides  for  putting  him  out  to  a  farmer,  or 
sending  him  to  sea,  so  that  he  might  never  turn  up  to  disgrace 
his  parents,  supposing  him  to  be  a  natural  boy,  as  many  of 
our  boys  are — damme,  if  that  villain  of  a  Nickleby  don't  col- 
lar him  in  open  day,  and  commit  as  good  as  highway  robbery 
upon  my  pocket." 

"  We  will  both  cry  quits  with  him  before  long,"  said  Ralph, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  the  Yorkshire  schoolmaster. 

"  Quits  !  "  echoed  Squeers.  "  Ah  !  and  I  should  like  to 
leave  a  small  balance  in  his  favor,  to  be  settled  when  he  can. 
I  only  wish  Mrs.  Squeers  could  catch  hold  of  him.  Bless 
her  heart !  She'd  murder  him,  Mr.  Nickleby.  She  would,  as 
soon  as  eat  her  dinner."- 

"  We  will  talk  of  this  again,"  said  Ralph.  "  I  must  have 
time  to  think  of  it.     To  wound  him  through  his  own  affections 

and  fancies .     If  I  could  strike  him  through  this  boy " 

"  Strike  him  how  you  like,  sir,"  interrupted  Squeers,  "only 
hit  him  hard  enough,  that's  all.  And  with  that,  I'll  say  good- 
morning.  Here  ! — just  chuck  that  little  boy's  hat  off  that 
corner-peg,  and  lift  him  off  the  stool,  will  you  ?  " 

Bawling  these  requests  to  Newman  Noggs,  Mr.  Squeers 
betook  himself  to  the  little  back  office,  and  fitted  on  his  child's 
hat  with  parental  anxiety,  while  Newman,  with  his  pen  behind 
his  ear,  sat,  stiff  and  immovable,  on  his  stool,  regarding  the 
father  and  son  by  turns  with  a  broad  stare. 

"  He's  a  fine  boy,   an't  he  ?  "   said  Squeers,    throwing  his 
head  a  little  on  one'  side,  and  falling  back  to  the   desk,  the 
better  to  estimate  the  proportions  of  little  Wackford. 
"  Very,"  said  Newman. 

"Pretty  well  swelled  out,  an't  he?"  pursued  Squeers. 
"  He  has  the  fatness  of  twenty  boys,  he  has." 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  Newman,  suddenly  thrusting  his  face  into 
that  of  Squeers,  "  he  has  ;— the  fatness  of  twenty  ! — more  ! 
He's  got  it  all.  God  help  the  others.  Ha !  ha  !  Oh  Lord  ! " 
Having  uttered  these  fragmentar)'  observations,  Newman 
dropped  upon  his  desk  and  began  to  write  with  most  marvel- 
lous rapidity. 

"  Why,  what  does  the  man  mean  ?  "cried  Squeers  coloring. 
"Is  he  drunk.?" 

Newman  made  no  reply. 


XICIIOLAS  NICK'LEB  Y.  439 

"  Is  he  mad  ?  "  said  Squeers. 

But,  still  Newman  betrayed  no  consciousness  of  any  pres- 
ence save  his  own  ;  so,  Mr.  Squeers  comforted  himself  by 
saying  that  he  was  both  drunk  rt«^  mad  ;  and,  with  this  part- 
ing observation,  he  led  his  hopeful  son  away. 

In  exact  proportion  as  Ralph  Nickleby  became  conscious 
of  a  struggling  and  lingering  regard  for  Kate,  had  his  detesta- 
tion of  Nicholas  augmented.  It  might  be,  that  to  atone  for 
the  weakness  of  inclining  to  any  one  person,  he  held  it  neces- 
sar)-  to  hate  some  other,  more  intensely  than  before  ;  but  such 
had  been  the  course  of  his  feelings.  And  now,  to  be  defied 
and  spurned,  to  be  held  up  to  her  in  the  worst  and  most  re- 
pulsive colors,  to  know  that  she  was  taught  to  hate  and  de- 
spise him,  to  feel  that  there  was  infection  in  his  touch,  and 
taint  in  his  companionship — to  know  all  this,  and  to  know 
that  the  mover  of  it  all  was  that  same  boyish  poor  relation 
who  had  twitted  him  in  their  verv'  first  interview,  and  openly 
bearded  and  braved  him  since,  wrought  his  quiet  and  st^ealtlw 
malisfnitv  to  such  a  pitch,  that  there  was  scarcely  anytliing  He 
would  not  have  hazarded  \c>  gratify  it,  if  he  could  have  seen 
his  way  to  some  immediate  ixtaliaiii  11. 

But,  fortunately  for  Nicholas,  Ralph  Nickleby  did  not  ; 
and  although  he  cast  about,  all  that  day,  and  kept  a  corner  of 
his  brain  working  on  the  one  anxious  subject  through  all  the 
round  of  schemes  and  business  that  came  with  it,  night  found 
him  at  last,  still  harping  on  the  same  theme,  and  still  pursu- 
ing the  same  unprofitable  refiections. 

"  When  my  brother  was  such  as  he,"  said  Ralph,  "  the 
first  comparisons  w^ere  drawn  betw'een  us.  Always  in  my  dis- 
favor. He  was  open,  liberal,  gallant,  gay  ;  /  a  crafty  hunks  of 
cold  and  stagnant  blood,  with  no  passion  but  love  of  saving, 
and  no  spirit  beyond  a  thirst  for  gain.  I  recollected  it  well 
when  I  first  saw  this  whipster  ;  but  I  remember  it  better  now." 

He  had  been  occupied  in  tearing  Nicholas's  letter  into 
atoms  ;  and  as  he  spoke,  he  scattered  it  in  a  tiny  shower 
about  him. 

"Recollections  like  these,"  pursued  Ralph,  with  a  bitter 
smile,  "  flock  upon  me,  when  I  resign  myself  to  them,  in 
crowds,  and  from  countless  quarters.  As  a  portion  of  the 
world  affect  to  despise  the  power  of  money,  I  must  \.r\  and 
show  them  what  it  is." 

And  being,  by  this  time,  in  a  pleasant  frame  of  mind  for 
slumber,  Ralph  Nickleby  went  to  bed. 


440  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

SMIKE  BECOMES  KNOWN  TO  MRS.  NICKLEBY  AND  KATE. 
NICHOLAS  ALSO  MEETS  WITH  NEW  ACQUAINTANCES. 
BRIGHTER    DAYS    SEEM    TO    DAWN    UPON    THE    FAMILY. 

Having  established  his  mother  and  sister  in  the  apart- 
ments of  the  kind-hearted  miniature  painter,  and  ascertained 
that  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  was  in  no  danger  of  losing  his  life, 
Nicholas  turned  his  thoughts  to  poor  Smike,  who,  after  break- 
fasting with  Newman  Noggs,  had  remained,  in  a  disconsolate 
state,  at  that  worthy  creature's  lodgings,  waiting,  with  much 
anxiety,  for  further  intelligence  of  his  protector. 

"  As  he  will  be  one  of  our  own  little  household,  wherever 
we  live,  or  whatever  fortune  is  in  reserve  for  us,"  thought 
Nicholas,  "  I  must  present  the  jDoor  fellow  in  due  form.  They 
will  be  kind  to  him  for  his  own  sake,  and  if  not  (on  that  ac- 
count solely)  to  the  full  extent  I  could  wish,  they  will  stretch 
a  point,  I  am  sure,  for  mine." 

Nicholas  said  "  they,"  but  his  misgivings  were  confined 
to  one  person.  He  was  sure  of  Kate,  but  he  knew  his  mother's 
peculiarities,  and  was  not  quite  so  certain  that  Smike  would 
find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  However,"  thought  Nicholas  as  he  departed  on  his 
benevolent  errand  \  "  she  cannot  fail  to  become  attached  to 
him,  when  she  knows  what  a  devoted  creature  he  is,  and  as 
she  must  quickly  make  the  discovery,  his  probation  will  be  a 
short  one." 

"  I  was  afraid,"  said  Smike,  overjoyed  to  see  his  friend 
again,  that  you  had  fallen  into  some  fresh  trouble  ;  the  time 
seemed  so  long,  at  last,  that  I  almost  feared  you  were  lost." 

"  Lost !  "  replied  Nicholas  gayly.  "You  will  not  be  rid  of 
me  so  easily,  I  promise  you.  I  shall  rise  to  the  surface  many 
thousand  times  yet,  and  the  harder  the  thrust  that  push.es  me 
down,  the  more  quickly  I  shall  rebound,  Smike.  But  come  ; 
my  errand  here  is  to  take  you  home." 

"  Home!  "  faltered  Smike,  drawing  timidly  back. 

"Ay,"    rejoined  Nicholas,  taking  his  arm.     "Why "not?" 

"  I  had  such  hopes  once,"  said   Smike;  "  day  and   night, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  44 1 

niglit,  for  many  years.     I  lonj^^ed  for  home  till  I  was 
weary,  ami  jniicJ  auav  ujth j.Mief  j  l)Ut  now " 

"And  what  now  ?  '^  asked  Nicholas,  looking  kindly  in  his 
face.     "  What  now,  old  friend  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  part  from  you  to  go  to  any  home  on  earth," 
replied  Smike,  pressing  his  hand  ;  "  except  one,  except  one. 
I  shall  never  be  an  old  man  ;  and  if  your  hand  placed  me  in 
the  grave,  and  I  could  think,  before  I  died,  that  you  would 
come  and  look  upon  it  sometimes  \vith  one  of  your  kind  smiles 
andlnTRe  summer  weather,  when  t'\  crMhing  wis  ali\e — not 
dead  like  me — 1  could  go  to  that  home,  almost  without  a 

tear" "^ 

"^  "  Why  do  you  talk  thus,  poor  boy,  if  your  life  is  a  happy 
one  with  me  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Because  /  should  change  ;  not  those  about  me.  And 
if  they  forget  me,  /  should  never  know  it,"  replied  Smike.  "  In 
the  churchyard  we  are  all  alike,  but  here  there  are  none  like 
me.     I  am  a  poor  creature,  but  I  know  that." 

"  You  are  a  foolish,  silly  creature,"  said  Nicholas  cheerfully. 
"  If  that  is  what  you  mean,  I  grant  you  that.  Why,  here's  a 
dismal  face  for  ladies'  company  ! — my  pretty  sister  too,  whom 
you  have  so  often  asked  me  about.  Is  this  your  Yorkshire 
gallantry  "i     For  shame  !  for  shame  !  " 

Smike  brightened  up  and  smiled. 

"When  I  talk  of  homes,"  pursued  Nicholas,  "I  talk  of 
mine — which  is  yours  of  course.  If  it  w-ere  defined  by  any 
particular  four  walls  and  a  roof,  God  knows  I  should  be 
sufficiently  puzzled  to  say  whereabouts  it  lay ;  but  that  is  not 
what  I  mean.  When  I  speak  of  home,  I  speak  of  the  place 
where,  in  default  of  a  better,  those  I  love  are  gathered  to- 
gether ;  and  if  that  place  were  a  gipsy's  tent,  or  a  barn,  I 
should  call  it  by  the  same  good  name  notwithstanding.  And 
now,  for  what  is  my  present  home  :  which,  however  alarming 
your  expectations  may  be,  will  neither  terrify  you  by  its  extent 
nor  its  magnificence  !  " 

So  saying,  Nicholas  took  his  companion  by  the  arm,  and 
saying  a  great  deal  more  to  the  same  purpose,  and  pointing 
out  various  things  to  amuse  and  interest  him  as  they  went 
along,  led  the  way  to  Miss  La  Creevy's  house. 

"And  this,  Kate,"  said  Nicholas,  entering  the  room  where 
his  sister  sat  alone,  "  is  the  faithful  friend  and  affectionate 
fellow-tra\eller  whom  I  prepared  you  to  receive." 

Poor  Smike  was  bashful,  and  awkward,    and  frightened 


442  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

enough,  at  first,  but  Kate  advanced  towards  him  so  kindly, 
and  said,  in  such  a  sweet  voice,  how  anxious  she  had  been  to 
see  him  after  all  her  brother  had  told  her,  and  how  much  she 
had  to  thank  him  for  having  comforted  Nicholas  so  greatly  in 
their  very  trjdng  reverses,  that  he  began  to  be  very  doubtful 
whether  he  should  shed  tears  or  not,  and  became  still  more 
flurried.  However,  he  managed  to  say,  in  a  broken  voice, 
that  Nicholas  was  his  only  friend,  and  that  he  would  lay  down 
his  life  to  help  him  •  and  Kate,  although  she  was  so  kind  and 
considerate,  seemed  to  be  so  wholly  unconscious  of  his  dis- 
tress and  embarrassment,  that  he  recovered  almost  immediate- 
ly and  felt  quite  at  home. 

Then,  Miss  La  Creevy  came  in  ;  and  to  her  Smike  had  to 
be  presented  also.  And  Miss  La  Creevy  was  veiy  kind  too, 
and  wonderfully  talkative  :  not  to  Smike,  for  that  would  have 
made  him  uneasy  at  first,  but  to  Nicholas  and  his  sister. 
Then,  after  a  time,  she  would  speak  to  Smike  himself  now  and 
then,  asking  him  whether  he  was  a  judge  of  likenesses,  and 
whether  he  thought  that  picture  in  the  corner  was  like  herself, 
and  whether  he  didn't  think  it  would  have  looked  betterif  she 
had  made  herself  ten  years  younger,  and  whether  he  didn't 
think,  as  a  matter  of  general  observation,  that  young  ladies 
looked  better  not  only  in  pictures  but  out  of  them  too,  than 
old  ones  ;  with  many  more  small  jokes  and  facetious  remarks, 
which  were  delivered  with  such  good  humor  and  merriment, 
that  Smike  thought,  within  himself,  she  was  the  nicest  lady 
he  had  ever  seen  ;  even  nicer  than  Mrs.  Grudden,  of  Mr.  Vin- 
cent Crummles's  theatre :  and  she  was  a  nice  lady  too,  and 
talked,  perhaps  more,  but  certainly  louder,  than  Miss  La 
Creevy. 

At  length  the  door  opened  again,  and  a  lady  in  mourning 
came  in  ;  and  Nicholas  kissing  the  lady  in  mourning  affection- 
ately, and  calling  her  his  mother,  led  her  towards  the  chair 
from  which  Smike  had  risen  when  she  entered  the  room. 

"You  are  always  kind-hearted,  and  anxious  to  help  the 
oppressed,  my  dear  mother,"  said  Nicholas,  "  so  you  will  be 
favorably  disposed  towards  him,  I  know." 

"  I  am  sure,  my  dear  Nicholas,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
looking  very  hard  at  her  new  friend,  and  bending  to  him  with 
something  more  of  majesty  than  the  occasion  seemed  to  re- 
quire :  "  I  am  sure  any  friend  of  yours  has,  as  indeed  he 
naturally  ought  to  have,  and  must  have,  of  course,  you  knew, 
a  great  claim  upon  me,   and   of  course,  it  is  a  very  great 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


443 


pleasure  to  me  to  be  introduced  to  anybody  you  take  an  in- 
terest in.  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  that  ;  none  at  all ; 
not  the  least  in  the  world,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  ''  At  the 
same  time  I  must  say,  Nicholas,  my  dear,  as  I  used  to  say  to 
your  poor  dear  papa,  when  he  would  bring  gentlemen  home  to 
dinner  and  there  was  nothing  in  the  house,  that  if  he  had 
come  the  day  before  yesterday — no,  I  don't  mean  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday  ;  I  should  have  said,  perhaps,  the  year  before 
last — we  should  have  been  better  able  to  entertain  him." 

With  which  remarks,  Mrs.  Nickleby  turned  to  her  daughter, 
and  inquired,  in  an  audible  whisper,  whether  the  gentleman 
was  going  to  stop  all  night  .' 

"  Because,  if  he  is,  Kate  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
"  I  don't  see  that  it's  possible  for  him  to  sleep  anywhere,  and 
that's  the  truth." 

Kate  stepped  gracefully  forward,  and  without  any  show 
of  annoyance  or  irritation,  breathed  a  few  words  into  her 
mothers  ear. 

"  La,  Kate,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  shrinking  back, 
"  how  you  do  tickle  one  !  Of  course,  I  understand  that,  my 
love,  without  your  telling  me  ;  and  I  said  the  same  to  Nich- 
olas, and  I  a7n  very  much  pleased.  You  didn't  tell  me,  Nich- 
olas, my  dear,"  added  Mrs.  Nickleby,  turnmg  round  with  an 
air  of  less  reserve  than  she  had  before  assumed,  "  what  your 
friend's  name  is." 

"His  name,  mother,"  replied  Nicholas,  "is  Smike." 

The  effect  of  this  communication  was  by  no  means  antici- 
pated ;  but  the  name  was  no  sooner  pronounced,  than  Mrs. 
Nickleby  dropped  upon  a  chair,  and  burst  into  a  fit  of  cry- 
ing. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  exclaimed  Nicholas,  running  to 
support  her. 

"  It's  so  like  Pyke,"  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby;  "  so  exactly  like 
Pyke.     Oh  !  don't  speak  to  me — I  shall  be  better  presently." 

After  exhibiting  every  symptom  of  slow  suffocation,  in  all 
its  stages,  and  drinking  about  a  teaspoonful  of  water  from  a 
full  tumbler,  and  spilling  the  remainder,  Mrs.  Nickleby  was 
better,  and  remarked,  with  a  feeble  smile,  that  she  was  very 
foolish,  she  knew. 

"  It's  a  weakness  in  our  family,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "so, 
of  course,  I  can't  be  blamed  for  it.  Your  grandmama,  Kate, 
was  exactly  the  same — precisely.  The  least  excitement,  the 
slightest  surprise — she  fainted  away  directly.     I  have  heard 


444  NICII0L4A^jyjCA;LEB  Y. 

her  say,  often  and  often,  that  when  she  was  a  young  lady,  and 
before  she  was  married,  she  was  turning  a  corner  into  Oxford- 
street  one  day,  when  she  ran  against  her  own  hair-dresser, 
who,  it  seems,  was  escaping  from  a  bear  ; — the  mere  sudden- 
ness of  the  encounter  made  her  faint  away,  directly.  Wait, 
though,"  added  Mrs.  Nicl^leby,  pausing  to  consider,  "  Let  me 
be  sure  I'm  right.  Was  it  her  hair-dresser  who  had  escaped 
from  a  bear,  or  was  it  a  bear  who  had  escaped  from  her  hair- 
dresser's ?  I  declare  I  can't  remember  just  now,  but  the  hair- 
dresser was  a  very  handsome  man,  I  know,  and  quite  a  gen- 
tleman in  his  manners  ;  so  that  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
point  of  the  story." 

Mrs.  Nickleby  having  fallen  imperceptibly  into  one  of 
her  retrospective  moods,  improved  in  temper  from  that  mo- 
ment, and  glided,  by  an  easy  change  of  the  conversation  oc- 
casionally, into  various  other  anecdotes,  no  less  remarkable 
for  their  strict  application  to  the  subject  in  hand. 

"  Mr.  Smike  is  from  Yorkshire,  Nicholas,  my  dear  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Nickleby,  after  dinner,  and  when  she  had  been  silent  for 
some  time. 

"Certainly,  mother,"  replied  Nicholas.  "I  see  you  have 
not  forgotten  his  melancholy  history." 

"  O  dear  no,"  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Ah  !  Melancholy, 
indeed  !  You  don't  happen,  Mr.  Smike,  ever  to  have  dined 
with  the  Grimbles  of  Grimble  Hall,  somewhere  in  the  North 
Riding,  do  you  ?  "  said  the  good  lad3%  addressing  herself  to 
him.  "  A  very  proud  man.  Sir  Thomas  Grimble,  with  six 
grown-up  and  most  lovely  daughters,  and  the  finest  park  in  the 
county." 

"  My  dear  mother !  "  reasoned  Nicholas,  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose that  the  unfortunate  outcast  of  a  Yorkshire  school  was 
likely  to  receive  many  cards  of  invitation  from  the  nobility 
and  gentry  in  the  neighborhood  ?  " 

"  Really,  my  dear,  I  don't  know  why  it  should  be  so  very 
e.xtraordinary,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  I  know  that  when  / 
was  at  school,  I  always  went  at  least  twice  every  half-year  to 
the  Hawkinses  at  Taunton  Vale,  and  they  are  much  richer 
than  the  Grimbles,  and  connected  with  them  in  marriage  ;  so 
you  see  it's  not  so  very  unlikely,  after  all." 

Having  put  down  Nicholas  in  this  triumphant  manner, 
Mrs.  Nickleby  was  suddenly  seized  with  a  forgetfulness  of 
Smike's  real  name,  and  an  irresistible  tendency  to  call  him 
Mr.    Slammonsj  which    circumstance  she   attributed  to    the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


445 


remarkable  similarity  of  the  two  names  in  point  of  sound, 
both  beginning  with  an  S.  and  moreover  being  spelt  with  an 
M.  But  whatever  doubt  there  might  be  on  this  point,  there 
was  none  as  to  his  being  a  most  excellent  listener ;  which  cir- 
cumstance had  considerable  influence  in  placing  them  on  the 
very  best  terms,  and  in  inducing  Mrs.  Nickleby  to  express  the 
highest  opinion  of  his  general  deportment  and  disposition. 

Thus,  the  little  circle  remained,  on  the  most  amicable  and 
agreeable  footing,  until  the  Monday  morning,  when  Nicholas 
withdrew  himself  from  it  for  a  short  time,  seriously  to~reflect 
upon  the  state  of  his  affairs,  and  to  determine,  if  he  could, 
upon  some  course  of  life  which  would  enable  him  to  support 
those  who  were  so  entirely  dependent  upon  his  exertions. 

"Mrr  C'runuules  occui-red  fo  TiTiri  more  than  once ;  but 
although  Kate  was  acquainted  with  the  whole  history  of  his 
connection  with  that  gentleman,  his  mother  was  not  ;  and  he 
foresaw  a  thousand  fretful  objections,  on  her  part,  to  his  seek- 
ing a  livelihood  upon  the  stage.  There  were  graver  reasons, 
too.  against  his  returning  to  that  mode  of  life.  Independently 
of  those  arising  out  of  its  spare  and  precarious  earnings,  and 
his  own  internal  conviction  that  he  could  never  hope  to  aspire 
to  any  great  distinction,  even  as  a  provincial  actor,  how  could 
he  carry  his  sister  from  town  to  town,  and  place  to  place,  and 
debar  her  from  any  other  associates  than  those  with  whom  he 
would  be  compelled,  almost  without  distinction,  to  mingle  ? 
"  It  won't  do,"  said  Nicholas,  shaking  his  head  ;  "  I  must  try 
something  else." 

It  was  much  easier  to  make  this  resolution  than  to  carry 
it  into  effect.  With  no  greater  experience  of  the  world  than 
he  had  acquired  for  himself  in  his  short  trials  ;  with  a  suffi- 
cient share  of  headlong  rashness  and  precipitation  (qualities 
not  altogether  unnatural  at  his  time  of  life)  ;  with  a  very  slen- 
der stock  of  monev,  and  a  still  more  scantv  stock  of  friendL  ; 
what  could  he  do'?  "Egad!"  said  Nicholas,  "I'll  tr\' that 
Register  Office  again." 

He  smiled  at  himself  as  he  walked  away,  with  a  quick 
step  ;  for,  an  instant  before,  he  had  been  internally  blaming 
his  own  precipitation.  He  did  not  laugh  himself  out  of 
the  intention,  however,  for  on  he  went  :  picturing  to  himself, 
as  he  approached  the  place,  all  kinds  of  splendid  possibilities, 
and  impossibilities  too,  for  that  matter,  and  thinking  himself, 
perhaps  with  good  reason,  very  fortunate  to  be  endowed  with 
so  buoyant  and  sanguine  a  temperament. 


^^5  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

The  office  looked  just  the  same  as  when  he  had  left  it  last, 
and,  indeed,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  there  seemed  to  be 
the  very  same  placards  in  the  window  that  he  had  seen  before. 
There  were  the  same  unimpeachable  masters  and  mistresses, 
in  want  of  virtuous  servants,  and  the  same  virtuous  servants 
in  want  of  unimpeachable  masters  and  mistresses,  and  the 
same  magnificent  estates  for  the  investment  of  capital,  and 
the  same  enormous  quantities  of  capital  to  be  invested  in 
estates,  and,  in  short,  the  same  opportunities  of  all  sorts  for 
people  who  wanted  to  make  their  fortunes.  And  a  most 
extraordinary  proof  it  was  of  the  national  prosperity,  that 
people  had  not  been  found  to  avail  themselves  of  such  advan- 
tages long  ago. 

As  Nicholas  stopped  to  look  in  at  the  window,  an  old 
gentleman  happened  to  stop  too  ;  Nicholas,  carrying  his  eye 
along  the  window-panes  from  left  to  right  in  search  of  some 
capital-text  placard,  which  should  be  applicable  to  his  own 
case,  caught  sight  of  this  old  gentleman's  figure,  and  instinc- 
tively withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  window,  to  observe  the  same 
more  closely. 

He  was  a  sturdy  old  fellow  in  a  broad-skirted  blue  coat, 
made  pretty  large,  to  fit  easily,  and  with  no  particular  waist  ; 
his  bulky  legs  clothed  in  drab  breeches  and  high  gaiters,  and 
his  head  protected  by  alow-crowned  broad-brimmed  white  hat, 
such  as  a  wealthy  grazier  might  wear.  He  wore  his  coat  but- 
toned ;  and  his  dimpled  double-chin  rested  in  the  folds  of  a 
white  neckerchief — not  one  of  your  stiff-starched  apoplectic 
cravats,  but  a  good,  easy,  old-fashioned  white  neck-cloth  that 
a  man  might  go  to  bed  in  and  be  none  the  worse  for.  But 
what  principally  attracted  the  attention  of  Nicholas,  was  the 
old  gentleman's  eye, — never  was  such  a  clear,  twinkling, 
honest,  merry,  happy  eye,  as  that.  And  there  he  stood,  look- 
ing a  little  upward,  with  one  hand  thrust  into  the  breast  of  his 
coat,  and  the  other  playing  with  his  old-fashioned  gold  watch- 
chain  :  his  head  thrown  a  little  on  one  side,  and  his  hat  a  little 
more  on  one  side  than  his  head,  (but  that  was  evidently  ac- 
cident ;  not  his  ordinary  way  of  wearing  it,)  with  such  ?.  pleas- 
ant smile  playing  about  his  mouth,  and  such  a  comical  expres- 
sion of  mingled  slyness,  simplicity,  kindjieartedness,  and  good- 
humor,  lighting  up  his  jolly  old  facefthat  Nicholas  would  have 
been  content  to  have  stood  there, Vmd  looked  at  him  until 
evening,  and  to  have  forgotten,  meanwhile,  that  there  was 
such  a  thing  as  a  soured  mind  or-A-Qrabbcd^countenance  to 
be  met  with  in  the  whole  wide  world.   J^  a^  ^  ^  ^^,^ 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  447 

But,  even  a  very  remote  approach  to  this  gratification  was 
not  to  be  made,  for  although  he  seemed  quite  unconscious  of 
having  been  the  subject  of  observation,  he  looked  casually  at 
Nicholas  ;  and  the  latter,  fearful  of  giving  offence,  resumed 
his  scrutiny  of  the  window  instantly. 

Still,  the  old  gentleman  stood  there,  glancing  from  placard 
to  placard,  and  Nicholas  could  not  forbear  raising  his  eyes  to  his 
face  again.  Grafted  upon  the  quaintness  and  oddity  of  his  ap- 
pearance, was  something  so  indescribably  engaging,  and  he- 
Speaking  so  much  worth,  and  there  vi^ere  so  many  little  lights 
hovering  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth  and  eyes,  that  it  was 
not  a  mere  amusement,  but  a  positive  pleasure  and  delight  to 
look  at  him. 

This  being  the  case,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  old  man 
caught  Nicholas  in  the  fact,  more  than  once.  At  such  times, 
Nicholas  colored  and  looked  embarrassed  :  for  the  truth  is, 
that  he  had  begun  to  wonder  whether  the  stranger  could,  by 
any  possibility,  be  looking  for  a  clerk  or  secretary ;  and  think- 
ing this,  he  felt  as  if  the  old  gentleman  must  know  it. 

Long  as  all  this  takes  to  tell,  it  was  not  more  than  a  couple 
of_  minutes  in  passing.  As  the  stranger  was  moving  away, 
Nicholas  caught  his  eye  again,  and,  in  the  awkwardness  of 
the  moment,  stammered  out  an  apology. 

"  No  offence.     Oh  no  offence  !  "  said  the  old  man. 

This  was  said  in  such  a  hearty  tone,  and  the  voice  was  so 
exactly  what  it  should  have  been  from  such  a  speaker,  and 
there  was  such  a  cordiality  in  the  manner,  that  Nicholas  was 
emboldened  to  speak  again. 

"  A  great  many  opportunities  here,  sir  !  "  he  said,  half- 
smiling  as  he  motioned  towards  the  window. 

"  A  great  many  people  willing  and  anxious  to  be  employed 
have  seriously  thought  so  very  often,  I  dare  say,"  replied  the 
old  man.     "  Poor  fellows,  poor  fellows  !  " 

He  moved  away,  as  he  said  this  ;  but,  seeing  that  Nicholas 
was  about  to  speak  good-naturedly,  slackened  his  pace,  as  if 
he  were  unwilling  to  cut  him  short.  After  a  little  of  that 
hesitation  which  may  be  sometimes  observed  between  two 
people  in  the  street  who  have  exchanged  a  nod,  and  are  both 
uncertain  whether  they  shall  turn  back  and  speak,  or  not, 
Nicholas  found  himself  at  the  old  man's  side. 

"  You  were  about  to  speak,  young  gentleman  ;  what  w^ere 
you  going  to  say.'" 

"  Merely  that  I  almost  hoped — I  mean  to  say,  thought — 


448  NICHOLAS  NICJCLEB  V. 

you  had  some  object  in  consulting  those  advertisements,    said 

Nicholas. 

"  Ay,  ay  ?  what  object  now — what  object  ?  "  returned  the 
old  man,  looking  slyly  at  Nicholas..  "  Did  you  think  I  wanted 
a  situation  now  ?     Eh  ?     Did  you  think  I  did  ? " 

Nicholas  shook  his  head. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  laughed  the  old  gentleman,  rubbing  his  hands 
and  wrists  as  if  he  were  washing  them.  "  A  very  natural 
thought,  at  all  events,  after  seeing  me  gazing  at  those  bills, 
I  thought  the  same  of  you,  at  first ;  upon  my  word,  I  did." 

"  If  you  had  thought  so  at  last,  too,  sir,  you  would  not  have 
been  far  from  the  truth,"  rejoined  Nicholas. 

"  Eh  ? "  cried  the  old  man,  surveying  him  from  head  to 
foot.  "  What !  Dear  me  !  No,  no.  Well-behaved  young 
gentleman  reduced  to  such  a  necessity!     No  no,  no  no." 

Nicholas  bowed,  and  bidding  him  good  morning,  turned 
upon  his  heel. 

"  Stay,"  said  the  old  man,  beckoning  him  into  a  by  street, 
where  they  could  converse  with  less  interruption.  "  What 
dye  mean,  eh  ?  " 

"  Merely  that  your  kind  face  and  manner — both  unlike 
any  I  have  ever  seen — tempted  me  into  an  avowal,  which,  to 
any  other  stranger  in  this  wilderness  of  London,  I  should  not 
have  dreamt  of  making,"  returned  Nicholas. 

"  Wildnerness !  Yes  it  is,  it  is.  Good  !  It  ts  a  wilder- 
ness," said  the  old  man  with  much  animation.  "  It  was  a 
wilderness  to  me  once.  I  came  here  barefoot.  I  have  never 
forgotten  it.  Thank  God  ! "  and  he  raised  his  hat  from  his 
head,  and  looked  very  grave. 

"  What's  the  matter .?  What  is  it.  How  did  it  all  come 
about  ? "  said  the  old  man,  laying  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of 
Nicholas,  and  walking  him  up  the  street.  "You're — Eh?" 
laying  his  finger  on  the  sleeve  of  his  black  coat.  "  Who's  it 
for,  e^h  ?  " 

"My  father,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  old  gentleman  quickly.  "  Bad  thing  for 
a  young  man  to  lose  his  father.     Widowed  mother,  perhaps  ?  " 

Nicholas  sighed. 

"  Brothers  and  sisters  too  ?     Eh  ?  " 

"One  sister,"  rejoined  Nicholas. 

"Poor  thing,  poor  thing!  You're  a  scholar  too,  I  dare 
say  ?  "  said  the  old  man,  looking  wistfully  into  the  face  of  the 
young  one. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  44^ 

"I  have  been  tolerably  well  educated,"  said  Nicholas. 

"Fine  thing,"  said  the  old  gentleman  :  "  education  a  great 
thing  :  a  very  great  thing  !  I  never  had  any.  I  admire  it  the 
more  in  others.  A  very  fine  thing.  Yes,  yes.  Tell  me  more 
of  your  history.  Let  me  hear  it  all.  No  impertinent  curiosity 
— no,  no,  no." 

There  was  something  so  earnest  and  guileless  in  the  way 
in  which  all  this  was  said,  and  such  a  complete  disregard  of 
all  conventional  restraints  and  coldness,  that  Nicholas  could 
not  resist  it.  Among  men  who  have  any  sound  and  sterling 
qualities,  there  is  nothing  so  contagious  as  pure  openness  of 
heart.  Nicholas  took  the  infection  instantly,  and  ran  over 
the  main  points  of  his  little  history  without  reserve  :  merely 
suppressing  names,  and  touching  as  lightly  as  possible  upon 
his  uncle's  treatment  of  Kate.  The  old  man  listened  with 
great  attention,  and  when  he  had  concluded,  drew  his  arm 
eagerly  through  his  own. 

"  Don't  say  another  word.  Not  another  word  !  "  said  he. 
"  Come  along  with  me.     We  mustn't  lose  a  minute." 

So  saying,  the  old  gentleman  dragged  him  back  into 
Oxford  Street,  and  hailing  an  omnibus  on  its  way  to  the  city, 
pushed  Nicholas  in  before  him,  and  followed,  himself. 

As  he  appeared  in  a  most  extraordinary  condition  of  rest- 
less excitement,  and  whenever  Nicholas  offered  to  speak,  im- 
mediately interposed  with  :  "  Don't  say  another  word,  my 
dear  sir,  on  any  account — not  another  word  !  "  the  young  man 
thought  it  better  to  attempt  no  further  interruption..  Into  the 
city  they  journeyed  accordingly,  without  interchanging  any 
conversation  ;  and  the  farther  they  went,  the  more  Nicholas 
wondered  what  the  end  of  the  adventure  could  possibly  be. 

The  old  gentleman  got  out,  with  great  alacrity,  when  they 
reached  the  Bank,  and  once  more  taking  Nicholas  by  the  arm, 
hurried  him  along  Threadneedle  Street,  and  through  some 
lanes  and  passages  on  the  right,  until  they,  at  length,  emerged 
in  a  quiet  shady  little  square.  Into  the  oldest  and  cleanest- 
looking  house  of  business  in  the  square,  he  led  the  way.  The 
only  inscription  on  the  door-post  was  "  Cheeryble,  Brothers  :  " 
but  from  a  hasty  glance  at  the  direction  of  some  packages 
which  were  lying  about,  Nicholas  supposed  that  the  Brothers 
Cheeryble  were  German-merchants. 

Passing  through  a  warehouse  which  presented  every  indi- 
cation of  a  thriving  business.  Mr.  Cheeryble  (for  such  Nich- 
olas supposed  him  to  be,  from  the  respect  which  had  been 

29 


45  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBIT, 

shown  him  by  the  warehousemen  and  porters  whom  they 
passed)  led  him  into  a  Uttle  partitioned-off  counting-house  hke 
a  large  glass-case,  in  which  counting-house  there  sat — as  free 
from  dust  and  blemish  as  if  he  had  been  fixed  into  the  glass 
case  before  the  top  was  put  on,  and  had  never  come  out  since 
— a  fat,  elderly,  large-faced,  clerk,  with  silver  spectacles  and  a 
powdered  head. 

"  Is  my  brother  in  his  room,  Tim  ?  "  said  Mr.  Cheer)'ble, 
with  no  less  kindness  of  manner  than  he  had  showA  to  Nich- 
olas. 

"Yes  he  is,  sir,"  replied  the  fat  clerk,  turning  his  specta- 
cle-glasses towards  his  principal,  and  his  eyes  towards  Nich- 
olas, "but  Mr.  Trimmers  is  with  him." 

"  Ay  !  And  what  has  he  come  about,  Tim  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Cheeryble. 

"  He  is  getting  up  a  subscription  for  the  widow  and  family 
of  a  man  who  was  killed  in  the  East  India  Docks  this  morning, 
sir,"  rejoined  Tim.     "  Smashed,  sir,  by  a  cask  of  sugar." 

"  He  is  a  good  creature,"  said  Mr.  Cheeryble,  with  great 
earnestness.  "  He  is  a  kind  soul.  I  am  very  much  obliged 
to  Trimmers.  Trimmers  is  one  of  the  best  friends  we  have. 
He  makes  a  thousand  cases  known  to  us  that  we  should  never 
discover  of  ourselves.  I  am  z/<fry  much  obliged  to  Trimmers." 
Saying  which,  Mr.  Cheer}^ble  rubbed  his  hands  with  infinite 
delight,  and  Mr.  Trimmers  happening  to  pass  the  door  that 
instant,  on  his  way  out,  shot  out  after  him  and  caught  him  by 
the  hand. 

"  I  owe  you  a  thousand  thanks.  Trimmers,  ten  thousand 
thanks.  I  take  it  very  friendly  of  you,  very  friendly  indeed," 
said  Mr.  Cheeryble,  dragging  him  into  a  corner  to  get  out  of 
hearing.  "  How  many  children  are  there,  and  what  has  my 
brother  Ned  given.  Trimmers  ?  " 

"There  are  six  children,"  replied  the  gentleman,  "and 
your  brother  has  given  us  twenty  pounds." 

"  My  brother  Ned  is  a  good  fellow,  and  you're  a  good 
fellow  too,  Trimmers,"  said  the  old  man,  shaking  him  by  both 
hands  with  tremblinsf  eagerness.  "  Put  me  down  for  another 
twenty — or — stop  a  minute,  stop  a  minute  !  We  mustn't  look 
ostentatious  ;  put  me  down  ten  pound,  and  Tim  Linkinwater 
ten  pound.  A  cheque  for  twenty  pound  for  Mr.  Trimmers^ 
Tim.  God  bless  you.  Trimmers — and  come  and  dine  with  us 
some  day  this  week  ;  you'll  always  find  a  knife  and  fork,  and 
we  shall  be  delighted.     Now,  my  dear  sir, — cheque  from  Mr. 


NICHOLAS  NJCKLEB  V.  4^  i 

Linkinwater,  Tim.     Smashed  by  a  cask  of  sugar,  and  six  poor 
children — oh  dear,  dear,  dear !  " 

Talking  on  in  this  strain,  as  fast  as  he  could,  to  prevent 
any  friendly  remonstrances  from  the  collector  of  the  subscrip- 
tion on  the  large  amount  of  his  donation,  Mr,  Cheeryble  led 
Nicholas,  equally  astonished  and  affected  by  what  he  had  seen 
and  heard  in  this  short  space,  to  the  half-opened  door  of  an- 
other room. 

"  Brother  Ned,"  said  Mr.  Cheeryble,  tapping  with  his 
knuckles,  and  stooping  to  listen  :  "  are  you  busy,  my  dear 
brother,  or  can  you  spare  time  for  a  word  or  two  with  me  ?  " 

"Brother  Charles,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  a  voice  from 
the  inside  ;  so  like  in  its  tones  to  that  which  had  just  spoken, 
that  Nicholas  started,  and  almost  thought  it  was  the  same, 
"  Don't  ask  me  such  a  question,  but  come  in  directly." 

They  went  in,  without  further  parley.  What  was  the 
amazement  of  Nicholas  when  his  conductor  advanced,  and  ex- 
changed a  warm  greeting  with  another  old  gentleman,  the  very 
type  and  model  of  himself — the  same  face,  the  same  figure, 
the  same  coat,  waistcoat,  and  neckcloth,  the  same  breeches 
and  gaiters — nay,  there  was  the  very  same  white  hat  hanging 
against  the  wall ! 

As  they  shook  each  other  by  the  hand — the  face  of  each 
lighted  up  by  beaming  looks  of  affection,  which  would  have 
been  most  delightful  to  behold  in  infants,  and  which,  in  men  so 
old,  was  inexpressibly  touching — Nicholas  could  observe  that 
the  last  old  gentleman  was  something  stouter  than  his  brother  ; 
this,  and  a  slight  additional  shade  of  clumsiness  in  his  gait 
and  stature,  formed  the  only  perceptible  difference  between 
them.     Nobody  could  have  doubted  their  being  twin  brothers. 

"Brother  Ned,"  said  Nicholas's  friend,  closing  the  room- 
door,  "  here  is  a  young  friend  of  mine,  whom  we  must  assist. 
We  must  make  proper  inquiries  into  his  statements,  in  justice 
to  him  as  well  as  to  ourselves,  and  if  they  are  confirmed — as 
I  feel  assured  they  will  be — we  must  assist  him,  we  must  assist 
him,  brother  Ned." 

"  It  is  enough,  my  dear  brother,  that  you  say  we  should," 
returned  the  other.  "  When  you  say  that,  no  further  inquiries 
are  needed.  He  s/ia//  be  assisted.  What  are  his  necessities, 
and  what  does  he  require  .-'  Where  is  Tim  Linkinwater  ?  Let 
us  have  him  here." 

Both  the  brothers,  it  may  be  here  remarked,  had  a  very 
emphatic  and  earnest  delivery ;  both  had  lost  nearly  the  same 


452 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


teeth,  which  imparted  the  same  peculiarity  to  their  speech  ;  and 
both  spoke  as  if,  besides  possessing  the  utmost  serenity  of 
mind  that  the  kindhest  and  most  unsuspecting  nature  could 
bestow,  they  had,  in  collecting  the  plums  from  Fortune's 
choicest  pudding,  retained  a  few  for  present  use,  and  kept 
them  in  their  mouths. 

"  Where  is  Tim  Linkinwater  ? "  said  brother  Ned. 

"  Stop,  stop,  stop  !  "  said  brother  Charles,  taking  the  other 
aside.  "  I've  a  plan,  my  dear  brother,  I've  a  plan.  Tim  is 
getting  old,  and  Tim  has  been  a  faithful  servant,  brother  Ned, 
and  I  don't  think  pensioning  Tim's  mother  and  sister,  and 
buying  a  little  tomb  for  the  family  when  his  poor  brother  died, 
was  a  sufficient  recompense  for  his  faithful  services." 

"  No,  no,  no,"  replied  the  other.  "  Certainly  not.  Not 
half  enough,  not  half." 

"  If  we  could  lighten  Tim's  duties,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, and  prevail  upon  him  to  go  into  the  country,  now  and 
then,  and  sleep  in  the  fresh  air,  two  or  three  times  a  week, 
(which  he  could,  if  he  began  business  an  hour  later  in  the 
morning,)  old  Tim  Linkinwater  would  grow  young  again  in 
time  ;  and  he's  three  good  years  our  senior  now.  Old  Tim 
Linkinwater  young  again  !  Eh,  brother  Ned,  eh  ?  Why,  I 
recollect  old  Tim  Linkinwater  quite  a  little  boy,  don't  you  ? 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !     Poor  Tim,  poor  Tim  !  " 

The  fine  old  fellows  laughed  pleasantly  together  :  each 
with  a  tear  of  regard  for  old  Tim  Linkinwater,  standing  in  his 
eye. 

"  But  hear  this  first — hear  this  first,  brother  Ned,"  said  the 
old  man,  hastily,  placing  two  chairs,  one  on  each  side  of 
Nicholas.  "  I'll  tell  it  you  mj^self,  brother  Ned,  because  the 
young  gentleman  is  modest,  and  is  a  scholar,  Ned,  and  I 
shouldn't  feel  it  right  that  he  should  tell  us  his  story  over  and 
over  again  as  if  he  was  a  beggar,  or  as  if  we  doubted  him. 
No,  no,  no." 

"  No,  no,  no,"  returned  the  other,  nodding  his  head 
gravely.     "  Very  right,  my  dear  brother,  very  right." 

"  He  will  tell  me  I'm  wrong,  if  I  make  a  mistake,"  said 
Nicholas's  friend,  "  But  whether  I  do  or  not,  you'll  be  very 
much  affected,  brother  Ned,  remembering  the  time  when  we 
were  two  friendless  lads,  and  earned  our  first  shilling  in  this 
great  city." 

The  twins  pressed  each  other's  hands  in  silence  ;  and  in  his 
own  homely  manner,   brother  Charles  related  the  particulars 


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ii 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  .r^ 

he  had  heard  from  Nicholas.  The  conversation  which  ensued, 
was  a  long  one,  and  when  it  was  over,  a  secret  conference  of 
almost  equal  duration  took  place  between  brother  Ned  and 
Tim  Linkinwater  in  another  room.  It  is  no  disparagement  to 
Nicholas  to  say,  that  before  he  had  been  closeted  with  tlie  two 
brbthers^Jen  minuFes7"he  coul'd  only  "wave 'IiisTiTnd'arevery 
fresh  expressTorTorkindness  and  s\'mpathy,  and  sob  like  a 
littiTKife^ *' 

At  length  brother  Ned  and  Tim  Linkinwater  came  back 
together,  when  Tim  instantly  walked  up  to  Nicholas  and  whis- 
pered in  his  ear  in  a  very  brief  sentence,  (for  Tim  was  ordinarily 
a  man  of  few  words),  that  he  had  taken  down  the  address 
in  the  Strand,  and  would  call  upon  him  that  evening,  at  eight. 
Having  done  which,  Tim  wiped  his  spectacles  and  put  them 
on,  preparatory  to  hearing  what  more  the  brothers  Cheeryble 
had  got  to  say. 

•  "Tim,"  said  brother  Charles,  "You  understand  that  we 
have  an  intention  of  taking  this  young  gentleman  into  the 
counting-house  .''  " 

Brother  Ned  remarked  that  Tim  was  aware  of  that  inten- 
tion, and  quite  approved  of  it ;  Tim  having  nodded,  and  said 
he  did,  drew  himself  up  and  looked  particularly  fat,  and  very 
important.     After  which  there  was  a  profound  silence. 

"  I'm  not  coming  an  hour  later  in  the  morning  you  know," 
said  Tim,  breaking  out  all  at  once,  and  looking  very  resolute. 
"  I'm  not  going  to  sleep  in  the  fresh  air  ;  no,  nor  I'm  not 
going  into  the  country  either.  A  pretty  thing  at  this  time  of 
day,  certainly.     Pho  !  " 

"  Damn  your  obstinacy,  Tim  Linkinwater,"  said  brother 
Charles,  looking  at  him  without  the  faintest  spark  of  anger, 
and  with  a  countenance  radiant  with  attachment  to  the  old 
clerk  !  "  Damn  your  obstinacy,  Tim  Linkinwater,  what  do 
you  mean,  sir  ?  " 

"  It's  forty-four  year,"  said  Tim,  making  a  calculation  in 
the  air  v/ith  his  pen,  and  drawing  and  imaginary  line  before 
he  cast  it  up,  "  forty-four  year,  next  May,  since  I  first  kept 
the  books  of  Cheeryble,  Brothers.  I've  opened  the  safe  every 
morning  all  that  time  (Sundays  excepted)  as  the  clock  struck 
nine,  and  gone  over  the  house  every  night  at  half-past  ten 
(except  on  Foreign  Post  nights,  and  then  twenty  minutes  be- 
fore twelve)  to  see  the  doors  fastened,  and  the  fires  out.  I've 
never  slept  out  of  the  back  attic  one  single  night.  There's 
the  same  mignonette  box  in  the  middle  of  the  window,  and 


^54  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

the  same  four  flower-pots,  two  on  each  side,  that  J  brought 
with  me  when  I  first  came.  There  an't — I've  said  it  again 
and  again,  and  I'll  maintain  it — there  ain't  such  a  square  as 
this,  in  the  world.  I  know  there  an't,"  said  Tim,  with  sudden 
energy,  and  looking  sternly  about  him.  "  Not  one.  For 
business  or  pleasure,  in  summer  time  or  winter — I  don't  care 
which — there's  nothing  like  it.  There's  not  such  a  spring  in 
England  as  the  pump  under  the  archway.  There's  not  such 
a  view  in  England  as  the  view  out  of  my  window.  I've  seen 
it  every  morning  before  I  shaved,  and  I  ought  to  know 
something  about  it.  I've  slept  in  that  room,"  added  Tim, 
sinking  his  voice  a  little,  "for  four-and-forty  year  ;  and  if  it 
wasn't  inconvenient,  and  didn't  interfere  with  business,  1 
should  request  leave  to  die  there." 

"  Damn  you,  Tim  Linkinwater,  how  dare  you  talk  about 
dying?"  roared  the  twins  by  one  impulse,  and  blowing  their 
old  noses  violently. 

"  That's  what  I've  got  to  say,  Mr.  Edwin  and  Mr.  Charles," 
said  Tim,  squaring  his  shoulders  again.  "  This  isn't  the  first 
time  you've  talked  about  superannuating  me  ;  but,  if  you 
please,  we'll  make  it  the  last,  and  drop  the  subject  for  ever- 
more." 

With  those  words,  Tim  Linkinwater  stalked  out,  and  shut 
himself  up  in  his  glass-case,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had 
had  his  say,  and  was  thoroughly  resolved  not  to  be  put 
down. 

The  brothers  interchanged  looks,  and  coughed  some  half- 
dozen  times  without  speaking. 

"  He  must  be  done  something  with,  brother  Ned,"  said  the 
other,  warmly ;  "  we  must  disregard  his  old  scruples ;  they 
can't  be  tolerated,  or  borne.  He  must  be  made  a  partner, 
brother  Ned  ;  and  if  he  won't  submit  to  it  peaceably,  we  must 
have  recourse  to  violence." 

"  Quite  right,"  replied  brother  Ned,  nodding  his  head  as  a 
man  thoroughly  determined  ;  "  quite  right,  my  dear  brother. 
If  he  won't  listen  to  reason,  we  must  do  it  against  his  will,  and 
show  him  that  we  are  determined  to  exert  our  authority.  We 
must  quarrel  with  him,  brother  Charles." 

"  We  must.  We  certainly  must  have  a  quarrel  with  Tim 
Linkinwater,"  said  the  other.  "  But  in  the  meantime  my  dear 
brother,  we  are  keeping  our  young  friend,  and  the  poor  lady 
and  her  daughter  will  be  anxious  for  his  return.  So  let  us  say 
good-by  for  the  present,  and — there,  there — take  care  of  that 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  4^5 

box,  my  dear  sir — and — no,  no,  no,  not  a  word  now — be  care- 
ful of  the  crossings  and " 

And  with  any  disjointed  and  unconnected  words  which 
would  prevent  Nicholas  from  pouring  forth  his  thanks,  the 
brothers  hurried  him  out :  shaking  hands  with  him  all  the 
way,  and  affecting  very  unsuccessfully — they  were  poor  hands 
at  deception  ! — to  be  wholly  unconscious  of  the  feelings  that 
mastered  him. 

Nicholas's  heart  was  too  full  to  allow  of  his  turning  into 
the  street  until  he  had  recovered  some  composure.  When  he 
at  last  glided  out  of  the  dark  doorway-corner  in  which  he  had 
been  compelled  to  halt,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  twins 
stealthily  peeping  in  at  one  corner  of  the  glass-case,  evidently 
undecided  whether  they  should  follow  up  their  late  attack 
without  delay,  or  for  the  present  postpone  laying  further  siege 
to  the  inflexible  Tim  Linkinwater. 

To  recount  all  the  delight  and  wonder  which  the  circum- 
stances just  detailed  awakened  at  Miss  La  Creevy's,  and  all 
the  things  that  were  done,  said,  thought,  expected,  hoped,  and 
prophesied  in  consequence,  is  beside  the  present  course  and 
purpose  of  these  adventures.  It  is  sufificient  to  state,  in  brief, 
that  Mr.  Timothy  Linkinwater  arrived,  punctual  to  his  appoint- 
ment ;  that,  oddity  as  he  was,  and  jealous  as  he  was  bound  to 
be,  of  the  proper  exercise  of  his  employers'  most  comprehen- 
sive liberality,  he  reported  strongly  and  warmly  in  favor  of 
Nicholas  ;  and,  that  next  day,  he  was  appointed  to  the  vacant 
stool  in  the  counting-house  of  Cheeryble,  Brothers,  with  a 
present  salary  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  a  year. 

"And  I  think,  my  dear  brother,"  said  Nicholas's  first 
friend,  "  that  if  we  were  to  let  them  that  little  cottage  at  Bow 
which  is  empty,  at  something  under  the  usual  rent,  now.? 
Eh,  brother  Ned  ?  " 

"  For  nothing  at  all,"  said  brother  Ned.  "  We  are  rich, 
and  should  be  ashamed  to  touch  the  rent  under  such  cir- 
cumstances as  these.  Where  is  Tim  Linkinwater  ? — for 
nothing  at  all,  my  dear  brother,  for  nothing  at  all." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say  som.ething,  brother 
Ned,"  suggested  the  other,  mildly;  "it would  help  to  preserve 
habits  of  frugality,  you  know,  and  remove  any  painful  sense  of 
overwhelming  obligations.  We  might  say  fifteen  pound,  or 
twenty  pound,  and  if  it  was  punctually  paid,  make  it  up  to 
them  in  some  other  way.  And  I  might  secretly  advance 
a  small  loan,  towards  a  little  furniture,  and  you  might  secretly 


^ 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


advance  another  small  loan,  brother  Ned  ;  and  if  we  find  them 
doing  well — as  we  shall ;  there's  no  fear,  no  fear — we  can 
change  the  loans  into  gifts.  Carefully,  brother  Ned,  and  by 
degrees,  and  without  pressing  upon  them  too  much  ;  what  do 
you  say  now,  brother  ?  " 

/'^^Brother  Ned  gave  his  hand  upon  it,  and  not  only  said  it 
/  should  be  done,  but  had  it  done  too ;  and  in  one  short  week, 
•\  Nicholas  took  possession  of  the  stool,  and  Mrs.  Nickleby  and 
j  Kate  took  possession  of  the  house,  and  all  was  hope,  bustle, 
\a.nd  light-heartedness. 

There  surely  never  was  such  a  week  of  discoveries  and  sur- 
prises as  the  first  week  of  that  cottage.  Every  night  when 
Nicholas  came  home,  something  new  had  been  found  out. 
One  day  it  was  a  grape  vine,  and  another  it  was  a  boiler,  and 
another  day  it  was  the  key  of  the  front  parlor  closet  at  the 
bottom  of  the  waterbutt,  and  so  on  through  a  hundred  items. 
Then,  this  room  was  embellished  with  a  muslin  curtain,  and 
that  room  was  rendered  quite  elegant  by  a  window-blind,  and 
such  improvements  were  made,  as  no  one  would  have  supposed 
possible.  Then  there  was  Miss  La  Creevy,  who  had  come 
out  in  the  omnibus  to  stop  a  day  or  two  and  help,  and  who 
was  perpetually  losing  a  very  small  brown  paper  parcel  of  tin 
tacks  and  a  very  large  hammer,  and  running  about  with  her 
sleeves  tucked  up  at  the  wrists,  and  falling  off  pairs  of  steps 
and  hurting  herself  very  much  —  and  Mrs.  Nickleby,  who 
talked  incessantly,  and  did  something  now  and  then,  but  not 
often — and  Kate,  who  busied  herself  noiselessly  everywhere, 
and  was  pleased  with  everything — and  Smike,  who  made  the 
garden  a  perfect  wonder  to  look  upon — and  Nicholas,  who 
helped  and  encouraged  them  every  one — all  the  peace  and 
cheerfulness  of  home  restored,  with  such  new  zest  imparted 
to  every  frugal  pleasure,  and  such  delight  to  every  hour  of 
meeting,  as  misfortune  and  separation  alone  could  give  !  _^ 
/^  In  short,  the  poor  Nicklebys  were  social  and  happy,  while  I 
\the  rich  Nickleby  was  alone  and  miserable.  ( 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY,  45^ 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

PRIVATE  AND  CONFIDENTIAL  ;  RELATING  TO  FAMILY  MATTERS. 
SHOWING  HOW  MR.  KENWIGS  UNDERWENT  VIOLENT  AGITA' 
TION,  AND  HOW  MRS.  KENWIGS  WAS  AS  WELL  AS  COULD 
BE    EXPECTED. 

It  might  have  been  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  it 
was  growing  dark  in  the  narrow  streets  near  Golden  Square, 
when  Mr.  Kenwigs  sent  out  for  a  pair  of  the  cheapest  white  kid 
gloves — those  at  fourteenpence — and  selecting  the  strongest, 
which  happened  to  be  the  right-hand  one,  walked  down  stairs 
with  an  air  of  pomp  and  much  excitement,  and  proceeded  to 
muffle  the  nob  of  the  street-door  knocker  therein.  Having 
executed  this  task  with  great  nicety,  Mr.  Kenwigs  pulled  the 
door  to,  after  him,  and  just  stepped  across  the  road  to  try  the 
effect  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  Satisfied  that 
nothing  could  possibly  look  better  in  its  way,  Mr.  Kenwigs 
then  stepped  back  again,  and  calling  through  the  keyhole  to 
Morleena  to  open  the  door,  vanished  into  the  house,  and  was 
seen  no  longer. 

Now,  considered  as  an  abstract  circumstance,  there  was  no 
more  obvious  cause  or  reason  why  Mr.  Kenwigs  should  take 
the  trouble  of  muffling  this  particular  knocker,  than  there 
would  have  been  for  his  muffling  the  knocker  of  any  nobleman 
or  gentleman  resident  ten  miles  off  ;  because,  for  the  greater 
convenience  of  the  numerous  lodgers,  the  street-door  always 
stood  wide  open,  and  the  knocker  was  never  used  at  all.  The 
first  floor,  the  second  floor,  and  the  third  floor,  had  each  a 
bell  of  its  own.  As  to  the  attics,  no  one  ever  called  on  them  ; 
if  anybody  wanted  the  parlors,  they  were  close  at  hand,  and 
all  he  had  to  do  was  to  walk  straight  into  them,  while  the 
kitchen  had  a  separate  entrance  down  the  area-steps.  As 
a  question  of  mere  necessity  and  usefulness,  therefore,  this 
muffling  of  the  knocker  was  thoroughly  incomprehensible. 

But  knockers  may  be  muffled  for  other  purposes  than  those 
of  mere  utilitarianism,  as,  in  the  present  instance,  was  clearly 
shown.  There  are  certain  polite  forms  and  ceremonies  which 
must  be  observed  in  civilized  life,  or  mankind  relapse  into 


4S8 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


their  original  barbarism.  No  genteel  lady  was  ever  yet  con- 
fined— indeed,  no  genteel  confinement  can  possibly  take  place 
— without  the  accompanying  symbol  of  a  muffled  knocker. 
Mrs.  Kenwigs  was  a  lady  of  some  pretensions  to  gentility ; 
Mrs.  Kenwigs  was  confined.  And,  therefore,  Mr.  Kenwigs 
tied  up  the  silent  knocker  on  the  premises  in  a  white  kid 
glove. 

"I'm  not  quite  certain  neither,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  arrang- 
ing his  shirt-collar,  and  walking  slowly  up  stairs,  "  whether, 
as  it's  a  boy,  I  won't  have  it  in  the  papers." 

Pondering  upon  the  advisability  of  this  step,  and  the 
sensation  it  was  likely  to  create  in  the  neighborhood,  Mr. 
Kenwigs  betook  himself  to  the  sitting-room,  where  various 
extremely  diminutive  articles  of  clothing  were  airing  on  a 
horse  before  the  fire,  and  Mr.  Lumbey,  the  doctor,  was  dand- 
ling the  baby — that  is,  the  old  baby — not  the  new  one. 

"  It's  a  fine  boy,  Mr.  Kenwigs,"  said  Mr.  Lumbey,  the 
doctor. 

"  You  consider  him  a  fine  boy,  do  you,  sir  ?  "  returned  Mr. 

Kenwigs. 

"  It's  the  finest  boy  I  ever  saw  in  all  my  life,"  said  the 
doctor.     "  I  never  saw  such  a  baby." 

It  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  reflect  upon,  and  furnishes  a  com- 
plete answer  to  those  who  contend  for  the  gradual  degenera- 
tion of  the  human  species,  that  every  baby  bom  into  the  world 
is  a  finer  one  than  the  last. 

"  I  ne-ver  saw  such  a  baby,"  said  Mr.  Lumbey,  the  doctor. 

"Morleena  was  a  fine  baby,"  remarked  Mr.  Kenwigs  ;  as 
if  this  were  rather  an  attack,  by  implication,  upon  the  family. 

"  They  were  all  fine  babies,"  said  Mr.  Lumbey.  And  Mr. 
Lumbey  went  on  nursing  the  baby  with  a  thoughtful  look. 
Whether  he  was  considering  under  what  head  he  could  best 
charge  the  nursing  in  the  bill,  was  best  known  to  himself. 

During  this  short  conversation.  Miss  Morleena,  as  the 
eldest  of  the  family,  and  natural  representative  of  her  mother, 
during  her  indisposition,  had  been  hustling  and_  slapping  the 
three  younger  Miss  Kenwigses  without  intermission ;  which 
considerate  and  affectionate  conduct  brought  tears  into  the 
eyes  of  Mr.  Kenwigs,  and  caused  him  to  declare  that,  in  un- 
derstanding and  behavior,  that  child  was  a  woman. 

"  She  will  be  a  treasure  to  the  man  she  marries,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Kenwigs,  half  aside  ;  "  I  think  she'll  marry  above  her 
station,  Mr.  Lumbey." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  459 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  at  all,"  replied  the  doctor. 

"  You  never  see  her  dance,  sir,  did  you  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Kenwigs. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head, 

"  Ay  ! "  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  as  though  he  pitied  him  from 
his  heart,  "  then  you  don't  know  what  she's  capable  of." 

All  this  time,  there  had  been  a  great  whisking  in  and  out 
of  the  other  room  ;  the  door  had  been  opened  and  shut  very 
softly  about  twenty  times  a  minute  (for  it  was  necessary  to 
keep  Mrs.  Kenwigs  quiet) ;  and  the  baby  had  been  exhibited 
to  a  score  or  two  of  deputations  from  a  select  body  of  female 
friends,  who  had  assembled  in  the  passage,  and  about  the 
street-door,  to  discuss  the  event  in  all  its  bearings.  Indeed, 
the  excitement  extended  itself  over  the  whole  street,  and  groups 
of  ladies  might  be  seen  standing  at  the  doors  (some  in  the 
interesting  condition  in  which  Mrs.Kenwigs  had  last  appeared 
in  public),  relating  their  experiences  of  similar  occurrences. 
Some  few  acquired  great  credit  from  having  prophesied,  the 
day  before  yesterday,  exactly  when  it  would  come  to  pass  ; 
others,  again,  related,  how  that  they  guessed  what  it  was, 
directly  they  saw  Mr.  Kenwigs  turn  pale  and  run  up  the 
street  as  hard  as  ever  he  could  go.  Some  said  one  thing,  and 
some  another ;  but  all  talked  together,  and  all  agreed  upon 
two  points :  firstly,  that  it  was  very  meritorious  and  highly 
praiseworthy  in  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  to  do  as  she  had  done  :  and 
secondly,  that  there  never  was  such  a  skilful  and  scientific 
doctor  as  that  Doctor  Lumbey. 

In  the  midst  of  this  general  hubbub.  Doctor  Lumbey  sat 
in  the  first  floor  front,  as  before  related,  nursing  the  deposed 
baby,  and  talking  to  Mr.  Kenwigs.  He  was  a  stout  bluff- 
looking  gentleman,  with  no  shirt-collar,  to  speak  of,  and  a 
beard  that  had  been  growing  since  yesterday  morning  ;  for 
Doctor  Lumbey  was  popular,  and  the  neighborhood  was 
prolific  ;  and  there  had  been  no  less  than  three  other  knockers 
muffled,  one  after  the  other,  within  the  last  forty-eight  hours, 

"  Well,  Mr.  Kenwigs,"  said  Dr.  Lumbey,  "  this  makes  six. 
You'll  have  a  fine  family  in  time,  sir." 

"I  think  six  is  almost  enough,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Kenwigs. 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  "  said  the  doctor.  "  Nonsense  !  not  half 
enough." 

With  this,  the  doctor  laughed ;  but  he  didn't  laugh  half  as 
much  as  a  married  friend  of  Mrs.  Kenwigs's,  who  had  just 
come  in  from  the  sick  chamber  to  report  progress,  and  take  a 


46o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

small  sip  of  brandy-and-water ;  and  who  seemed  to  consider 
it  one  of  the  best  jokes  ever  launched  upon  society. 

"  They're  not  altogether  dependent  upon  good  fortune, 
neither,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  taking  his  second  daughter  on 
his  knee  ;  they  have  expectations." 

"  Oh  !  indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Lumbey,  the  doctor. 
"And very  good  ones  too,  I  believe,  haven't  they?"  asked 
the  married  lady. 

"  Why,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  "  it's  not  exactly  for 
me  to  say  what  they  may  be,  or  what  they  may  not  be.  It's 
not  for  me  to  boast  of  any  family  with  which  I  have  the  honor 
to  be  connected  ;  at  the  same  time,  Mrs.  Kenwigs's  is — I 
should  say,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs  abrupdy,  and  raising  his  voice 
as  he  spoke,  "  that  my  children  might  come  into  a  matter  of  a 
hundred  pound  a-piece,  perhaps.  Perhaps  more,  but  certainly 
that." 

"  And  a  very  pretty  little  fortune,"  said  the  married  lady. 
"  There  are  some  relations  of  Mrs.  Kenwigs's,"  said  Mr. 
Kenwigs,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  the  doctor's  box,  and 
then  sneezing  very  hard,  for  he  wasn't  used  to  it,  "  that  might 
leave  their  hundred  pound  a-piece  to  ten  people,  and  yet  not 
go  a  begging  when  they  had  done  it." 

"  Ah  !  I  know  who  you  mean,  "  observed  the  married  lady, 
nodding  her  head. 

"  I  made  mention  of  no  names,  and  I  wish  to  make  mention 
of  no  names,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  with  a  portentous  look. 
"  Many  of  my  friends  have  met  a  relation  of  Mrs.  Kenwigs's  in 
this  very  room,  as  would  do  honor  to  any  company  ;  that's  all." 
"  I've  met  him,"  said  the  married  lady,  with  a  glance 
towards  Doctor  Lumbey. 

"  It's  naterally  very  gratifying  to  my  feelings  as  a  father, 
to  see  such  a  man  as  that,  a  kissing  and  taking  notice  of  my 
children,"  pursued  Mr.  Kenwigs.  "  It's  naterally  very  grati- 
fying to  my  feelings  as  a  man,  to  know  that  man.  It  will  be 
naterally  very  gratifying  to  my  feelings  as  a  husband,  to  make 
that  man  acquainted  with  this  ewent." 

Having  delivered  his  sentiments  in  this  form  of  words, 
Mr.  Kenwigs  arranged  his  second  daughter's  flaxen  tail,  and 
bade  her  be  a  good  girl  and  mind  what  her  sister,  Morleena, 
said. 

"  That  girl  grows  more  like  her  mother  every  day,"  said 
Mr.  Lumbey,  suddenly  stricken  with  an  enthusiastic  admiration 
of  Morleena. 


_  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  461 

"  There !  "  rejoined  the  married  lady.  "  What  I  always  say ; 
what  I  always  did  say  !  She's  the  very  picter  of  her."  Having 
thus  directed  the  general  attention  to  the  young  lady  in 
question,  the  married  lady  embraced  the  opportunity  of 
taking  another  sip  of  the  brandy-and-water — and  a  pretty  long 
sip  too. 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  likeness,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  after  some 
reflection.  "  But  such  a  woman  as  Mrs.  Kenwigs  was,  afore 
she  was  married  !     Good  gracious,  such  a  woman  !  " 

Mr.  Lumbey  shook  his  head  with  great  solemnity,  as 
though  to  imply  that  he  supposed  she  must  have  been  rather 
a  dazzler, 

"  Talk  of  fairies  !  "  cried  Mr.  Kenwigs.  "/  never  see  any- 
body so  light  to  be  alive,  never.  Such  manners  too  ;  so  play- 
ful, and  yet  so  sewerely  proper !  As  for  her  figure  !  It  isn't 
generally  known,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  dropping  his  voice  ;  "but 
her  figure  was  such,  at  that  time,  that  the  sign  of  the  Britannia 
over  in  the  Holloway  road,  was  painted  from  it !  " 

"  But  only  see  what  it  is  now  !  "  urged  the  married  lady. 
"  Does  she  look  like  the  mother  of  six  ?  " 

"Quite  ridiculous,"  cried  the  doctor. 

"  She  looks  a  deal  more  like  her  own  daughter,"  said  the 
married  lady. 

"  So  she  does,"  assented  Mr.  Lumbey.  "  A  great  deal 
more." 

Mr.  Kenwigs  was  about  to  make  some  further  observations, 
most  probably  in  confirmation  of  his  opinion,  when  another 
married  lady,  who  had  looked  in  to  keep  up  Mrs.  Kenwigs's 
spirits,  and  help  to  clear  off  anything  in  the  eating  and  drink- 
ing way  that  might  be  going  about,  put  in  her  head  to 
announce  that  she  had  just  been  down  to  answer  the  bell,  and 
that  there  was  a  gentleman  at  the  door  who  wanted  to  see 
Mr.  Kenwigs  "  most  particular." 

Shadowy  visions  of  his  distinguished  relation  flitted 
through  the  brain  of  Mr.  Kenwigs,  as  this  message  was 
delivered  ;  under  their  influence,  he  despatched  Morleena  to 
show  the  gentleman  up  straightway. 

"  Why  I  do  declare,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  standing  opposite 
the  door  so  as  to  get  the  earliest  glimpse  of  the  visitor,  as  he 
came  up  stairs,  "it's  Mr.  Johnson!  How  do  you  find  your- 
self, sir  ?  " 

Nicholas  shook  hands,  kissed  his  old  pupils  all  round, 
entrusted   a   large    parcel    of    toys   to   the    guardianship   of 


^62  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Morleena,  bowed  to  the  doctor  and  the  married  ladies,  and 
inquired  after  Mrs.  Kenwigs  in  a  tone  of  interest  which  went 
to  the  very  heart  and  soul  of  the  nurse,  who  had  come  in  to 
warm  some  mysterious  compound,  in  a  little  saucepan  over 
the  fire. 

"  I  ought  to  make  a  hundred  apologies  to  you  for  calling 
at  such  a  season,"  said  Nicholas,  "  but  I  was  not  aware  of  it 
until  I  had  rung  the  bell,  and  my  time  is  so  fully  occupied  now, 
that  I  feared  it  might  be  some  days  before  I  could  possibly 
come  again." 

"  No  time  like  the  present,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs.  "  The 
sitiwation  of  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  sir,  is  no  obstacle  to  a  little  con- 
versation between  you  and  me,  I  hope  ?  " 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Nicholas. 

At  this  juncture,  proclamation  was  made  by  another  mar- 
ried lady,  that  the  baby  had  begun  to  eat  like  anything  ; 
whereupon  the  two  married  ladies,  already  mentioned,  rushed 
tumultuously  into  the  bed-room  to  behold  him  in  the  act. 

"The  fact  is,"  resumed  Nicholas,  "  that  before  I  left  the 
country,  where  I  have  been  for  some  time  past,  I  undertook 
to  deliver  a  message  to  you." 

"  Ay,  ay  ?  "  said  Mr.  Kenwigs. 

"And  I  have  been,"  added  Nicholas,  "  already  in  town  for 
some  days  without  having  had  an  opportunity  of  doing  so." 

"  It's  no  matter,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs.  "  I  dare  say  it's 
none  the  worse  for  keeping  cold.  Message  from  the  coun- 
try ! "  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  ruminating  ;  "  that's  curious.  I  don't 
know  anybody  in  the  country." 

"  Miss  Petowker,"  suggested  Nicholas. 

"  Oh  !  from  her,  is  it  ?  "  said  Mr.  Kenwigs.  "  Oh  dear, 
yes.  Ah !  Mrs.  Kenwigs  will  be  glad  to  hear  from  her. 
Henrietta  Petowker,  eh  ?  How  odd  things  come  about,  now ! 
That  you  should  have  met  her  in  the  country  !     Well !  " 

Hearing  this  mention  of  their  old  friend's  name,  the  four 
Miss  Kenwigses  gathered  round  Nicholas,  open  eyed  and 
mouthed,  to  hear  more.  Mr.  Kenwigs  looked  a  little  curious 
too,  but  quite  comfortable  and  unsuspecting. 

"The  message  relates  to  family  matters,"  said  Nicholas, 
hesitating. 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  Kenwigs,  glancing  at  Mr.  Lumbey, 
who  having  rashly  taken  charge  of  little  Lillyvick,  found  no- 
body disposed  to  relieve  him  of  his  precious  burden  :  "  All 
friends  here." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  463 

Nicholas  hemmed  once  or  twice,  and  seemed  to  have  some 
difficulty  in  proceeding. 

"At  Portsmouth,  Henrietta  Petowker  is,"  observed  Mr. 
Kenwigs. 

"  Yes,"  said  Nicholas,  "  Mr.  Lillyvick  is  there." 
Mr.   Kenwigs  turned  pale,  but  recovered,  and  said,  that 
was  an  odd  coincidence  also. 

"The  message  is  from  him,"  said  Nicholas. 
Mr.  Kenwigs  appeared  to  revive.     He  knew  that  his  niece 
was  in  a  delicate  state,  and  had,  no  doubt,  sent  word  that  they 
were  to  forward  full  particulars.     Yes.     That  was  very  kind 
of  him  ;  so  like  him  too  ! 

"  He  desired  me  to  give  you  his  kindest  love,"  said  Nicholas. 
"Very  much  obliged  to  him,  I'm  sure.     Your  great-uncle, 
Lillyvick,  my  dears,"  interposed  Mr.  Kenwigs,  condescend- 
ingly explaining  it  to  the  children. 

"  His  kindest  love,"  resumed  Nicholas  ;  "  and  to  say  that 
he  had  no  time  to  write,  but  that  he  was  married  to  Miss  Pe- 
towker." 

Mr.  Kenwigs  started  from  his  seat  with  a  petrified  stare, 
caught  his  second  daughter  by  her  flaxen  tail,  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  pocket-handkerchief.  Morleena  fell,  all  stiff  and 
rigid,  into  the  baby's  chair,  as  she  had  seen  her  mother  fall 
when  she  fainted  away,  and  the  two  remaining  little  Kenwigses 
shrieked  in  affright. 

"  My  children,  my  defrauded,  swindled  infants  !  "  cried 
Mr.  Kenwigs,  pulling  so  hard,  in  his  vehemence,  at  the  flaxen 
tail  of  his  second  daughter,  that  he  lifted  her  up  on  tiptoe, 
and  kept  her,  for  some  seconds,  in  that  attitude.  "  Villain, 
ass,  traitor !  " 

"  Drat  the  man  !  "  cried  the  nurse,  looking  angrily  round. 
"  What  does  he  mean  by  making  that  noise  here  ?  " 
"  Silence,  woman  !  "  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  fiercely. 
"  I  won't  be  silent,"  returned  the  nurse.     "  Be  silent  your- 
self, you  wretch.     Have'  you  no  regard  for  your  baby  .?  " 
"  No  !  "  returned  Mr.  Kenwigs. 

"  More  shame  for  you,"  returned  the  nurse.  "  Ugh  !  you 
unnatural  monster." 

"  Let  him  die,"  cried  Mr.  Kenwigs,  in  the  torrent  .of  his 
wrath.  "  Let  him  die  !  He  has  no  expectations,  no  property 
to  come  into.  We  want  no  babies  here,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs 
recklessly.  "  Take  'em  away,  take  'em  away  to  the  Fond- 
ling !  " 


464  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

With  these  awful  remarks,  Mr.  Kenwigs  sat  himself  down 
in  a  chair,  and  defied  the  nurse,  who  made  the  best  of  her  way 
into  the  adjoining  room,  and  returned  with  a  stream  of  ma- 
trons, declaring  that  Mr.  Kenwigs  had  spoken  blasphemy 
against  his  family  and  must  be  raving  mad. 

Appearances  were  certainly  not  in  Mr.  Kenwigs's  favor, 
for  the  exertion  of  speaking  with  so  much  vehemence,  and 
yet  in  such  a  tone  as  should  prevent  his  lamentations  reaching 
the  ears  of  Mrs,  Kenwigs,  had  made  him  very  black  in  the 
face  ;  besides  which,  the  excitement  of  the  occasion,  and  un- 
wonted indulgence  in  various  strong  cordials  to  celebrate  it, 
had  swollen  and  dilated  his  features  to  a  most  unusual  extent. 
But,  Nicholas  and  the  doctor — who  had  been  passive  at  first, 
doubting  very  much  whether  Mr.  Kenwigs  could  be  in  ear- 
nest— interposing  to  explain  the  immediate  cause  of  his  con- 
dition, the  indignation  of  the  matrons  was  changed  to  pity, 
and  they  implored  him,  with  much  feeling,  to  go  quietly  to 
bed. 

"  The  attentions,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  looking  around  with 
a  plaintive  air,  "  the  attentions  that  I've  shown  to  that  man  ! 
the  hyseters  he  has  eat,  and  the  pints  of  ale  he  has  drank,  in 
this  house " 

"  It's  very  trying,  and  very  hard,  to  bear,  we  know,"  said 
one  of  the  married  ladies ;  but  think  of  your  dear  darling 
wife." 

"  Oh  yes,  and  what  she's  been  a  undergoing  of,  only  this 
day,"  cried  a  great  many  voices.     "  There's  a  good  man,  do." 

"  The  presents  that  have  been  made  to  him,"  said  Mr. 
Kenwigs,  reverting  to  his  calamity,  "  the  pipes,  the  snuff-boxes 
— a  pair  of  india-rubber  goloshes,  that  cost  six  and  six — " 

"  Ah  !  it  won't  bear  thinking  of,  indeed,"  cried  the  ma- 
trons generally  ;  "but  it'll  all  come  to  him,  never  fear." 

Mr.  Kenwigs  looked  darkly  upon  the  ladies,  as  if  he  would 
prefer  its  all  coming  home  to  /lim,  as  there  was  nothing  to  be 
got  by  it  all ;  but  he  said  nothing,  and  resting  his  head  upon 
his  hand,  subsided  into  a  kind  of  doze. 

Then,  the  matrons  again  expatiated  on  the  expediency  of 
-jakhig  the  good  gentleman  to  bed ;  observing  that  he  would 
be  better  to-morrow,  and  that  they  knew  what  was  the  wear 
and  tear  of  some  men's  minds  when  their  wives  were  taken  as 
Mrs.  Kenwigs  had  been  that  day,  and  that  it  did  him  great 
credit,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  in  it ;  far  from 
it ;  they  liked  to  see  it,  they  did,  for  it  showed  a  good  heart. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  ^5^ 

And  one  lady  observed,  as  a  case  bearing  upon  the  present, 
that  her  husband  was  often  quite  light-headed  from  anxiety 
on  similar  occasions,  and  that  once,  when  her  little  Johnny 
was  born,  it  was  nearly  a  week  before  he  came  to  himself 
again,  during  the  whole  of  which  time  he  did  nothing  but  cry 
"Is  it  a  boy,  is  it  a  boy?"  in  a  manner  which  went  to  the 
hearts  of  all  his  hearers. 

At  length  Morleena  (who  quite  forgot  she  had  fainted, 
when  she  found  she  was  not  noticed)  announced  that  a  cham- 
ber was  ready  for  her  afflicted  parent ;  and  Mr.  Kenwigs,  hav- 
ing partially  smothered  his  four  daughters  in  the  closeness  of 
his  embrace,  accepted  the  doctor's  arm  on  one  side,  and  the 
support  of  Nicholas  on  the  other,  and  was  conducted  up 
stairs  to  a  bed-room  which  had  been  secured  for  the  occasion. 

Having  seen  him  sound  asleep,  and  heard  him  snore  most 
satisfactorily,  and  having  further  presided  over  the  distribution 
of  the  toys,  to  the  perfect  contentment  of  all  the  little  Ken- 
wigses,  Nicholas  took  his  leave.  The  matrons  dropped  off,  one 
by  one,  with  the  exception  of  six  or  eight  particular  friends, 
who  had  determined  to  stop  all  night ;  the  lights  in  the  houses 
gradually  disappeared  ;  the  last  bulletin  was  issued  that  Mrs, 
Kenwigs  was  as  well  as  could  be  expected  ;  and  the  whole 
family  was  left  to  their  repose. 


CHAPTER  XXXVn. 


NICHOLAS  FINDS  FURTHER  FAVOR  IN  THE  EYES  OF  THE 
BROTHERS  CHEERYBLE  AND  MR.  TIMOTHY  LINKINWATER, 
THE  BROTHERS  GIVE  A  BANQUET  ON  A  GREAT  ANNUAL 
OCCASION.  NICHOLAS,  ON  RETURNING  HOME  FROM  IT, 
RECEIVES  A  MYSTERIOUS  AND  IMPORTANT  DISCLOSURE 
FROM    THE    LIPS    OF    MRS.    NICKLEBY. 

The  Square  in  which  the  counting-house  of  the  brothers 
Cheeryble  was  situated,  although  it  might  not  wholly  realize 
the  very  sanguine  expectations  which  a  stranger  would  be  dis- 
posed to  form  on  hearing  the  fervent  encomiums  bestowed 
upon  it  by  Tim  Linkinwater,  was,  nevertheless,  a  sufficiently 

3° 


466 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


desirable  nook  in  the  heart  of  a  busy  town  like  London,  and 
one  which  occupied  a  high  place  in  the  affectionate  remem- 
brances of  several  grave  persons  domiciled  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, whose  recollections,  however,  dated  from  a  much  more 
recent  period,  and  whose  attachment  to  the  spot  was  far  less 
absorbing,  than  were  the  recollections  and  attachment  of  the 
enthusiastic  Tim. 

And  let  not  those  Londoners  whose  eyes  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  the  aristocratic  gravity  of  Grosvenor  Square  and 
Hanover  Square,  the  dowager  barrenness  and  frigidity  of 
Fitzroy  Square,  or  the  gravel  walks  and  garden  seats  of  the 
Squares  of  Russell  and  Euston,  suppose  that  the  affections  of 
Tim  Linkinwater,  or  the  inferior  lovers  of  this  particular 
locality,  had  been  awakened  and  kept  alive  by  any  refreshing 
associations  with  leaves,  how^ever  dingy,  or  grass,  however 
bare  and  thin.  The  City  Square  has  no  enclosure,  save  the 
lamp-post  in  the  middle  ;  and  has  no  grass  but  the  weeds  which 
spring  up  round  its  base.  It  is  a  quiet,  little-frequented,  re- 
tired spot,  favorable  to  melancholy  and  contemplation,  and 
appointments  of  long-waiting  ;  and  up  and  down  its  every  side 
the  Appointed  saunters  idly  by  the  hour  together  wakening 
the  echoes  with  the  monotonous  sound  of  his  footsteps  on  the 
smooth  worn  stones,  and  counting,  first  the  windows,  and  then 
the  very  bricks  of  the  tall  silent  houses  that  hem  him  round 
about.  In  winter-time,  the  snow  will  linger  there,  long  after  it 
has  melted  from  the  busy  streets  and  highways.  The  sum- 
mer's sun  holds  it  in  some  respect,  and,  while  he  darts  his 
cheerful  rays  sparingly  into  the  square,  keeps  his  fiery  heat 
and  glare  for  noisier  and  less-imposing  precincts.  It  is  so 
quiet,  that  you  can  almost  hear  the  ticking  of  your  own  watch 
when  you  stop  to  cool  in  its  refreshing  atmosphere.  There  is 
a  distant  hum — of  coaches,  not  of  insects — but  no  other  sound 
disturbs  the  stillness  of  the  square.  The  ticket  porter  leans 
idly  against  the  post  at  the  corner,  comfortably  warm,  but  not 
hot,  although  the  day  is  broiling.  His  white  apron  flaps 
languidly  in  the  air,  his  head  gradually  droops  uj»on  his 
breast,  he  takes  very  long  winks  with  both  eyes  at  once  ;  even 
he  is  unable  to  withstand  the  soporific  influence  of  the  place, 
and  is  gradually  falling  asleep.  But  now,  he  starts  into  full 
wakefulness,  recoils  a  step  or  two,  and  gazes  out  before  him 
with  eager  wildness  in  his  eye.  Is  it  a  job,  or  a  boy  at  mar- 
bles ?  Does  he  see  a  ghost,  or  hear  an  organ  ?  No  ;  sight 
more  unwonted  still — there  is  a  butterfly  in  the  square — a  real, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


467 


live  butterfly  !  astray  from  flowers  and  sweets,  and  fluttering 
among  the  iron  heads  of  the  dusty  area  railings. 

But  if  there  were  not  many  matters  immediately  without 
the  doors  of  Cheeryble  Brothers,  to  engage  the  attention  or 
distract  the  thoughts  of  the  young  clerk,  there  were  not  a  few 
within,  to  interest  and  amuse  him.  There  was  scarcely  an 
object  in  the  place,  animate  or  inanimate,  which  did  not  par- 
take in  some  degree  of  the  scrupulous  method  and  punctuality 
of  Mr.  Timothy  Linkinwater.  Punctual  as  the  counting-house 
dial,  which  he  maintained  to  be  the  best  time-keeper  in  London 
next  after  the  clock  of  some  old,  hidden,  unknown  church 
hard  by,  (for  Tim  held  the  fabled  goodness  of  that  at  the 
House  Guards  to  be  a  pleasant  fiction,  invented  by  jealous 
Westenders,)  the  old  clerk  performed  the  minutest  actions  of  the 
day,  and  arranged  the  minutest  articles  in  the  little  room,  in  a 
precise  and  regular  order,  which  could  not  have  been  exceeded 
if  it  had  actually  been  a  real  glass  case,  fitted  with  the  choicest 
curiosities.  Paper,  pens,  ink,  ruler,  sealing-wax,  wafers,  pounce- 
box,  string-box,  fire-box,  Tim's  hat,  Tim's  scrupulously-folded 
gloves,  Tim's  other  coat — looking  precisely  like  a  back  view 
of  himself  as  it  hung  against  the  wall — all  had  their  ac- 
customed  inches  of  space.  Except  the  clock,  there  was  not 
such  an  accurate  and  unimpeachable  instrument  in  existence, 
as  the  little  thermometer  which  hung  behind  the  door.  There 
was  not  a  bird  of  such  methodical  and  business-like  habits  in 
all  the  world,  as  the  blind  blackbird,  who  dreamed  and  dozed 
away  his  days  in  a  large  snug  cage,  and  had  lost  his  voice, 
from  old  age,  years  before  Tim  first  bought  him.  There  was 
not  such  an  eventful  story  in  the  whole  range  of  anecdote,  as 
Tim  could  tell  concerning  the  acquisition  of  that  very  bird  ; 
how,  compassionating  his  starved  and  suffering  condition,  he 
had  purchased  him,  with  the  view  of  humanely  terminating  his 
wretched  life  ;  how,  he  determined  to  wait  three  days  and  see 
whether  the  bird  revived  ;  how,  before  half  the  time  was  out 
the  bird  did  revive  ;  and  how  he  went  on  reviving  and  picking 
up  his  appetite  and  good  looks  until  he  gradually  became 
what — "  what  you  see  him  now,  sir  ?  " — Tim  would  say,  glanc- 
ing proudly  at  the  cage.  And  with  that,  Tim  would  utter  a 
melodious  chirrup,  and  cry  "  Dick  ; "  and  Dick,  who,  for  any 
sign  of  life  he  had  previously  given,  might  have  been  a  wooden 
or  stuffed  representation  of  a  blackbird  indifferently  executed, 
would  come  to  the  side  of  the  cage  in  three  small  jumps,  and, 
thrusting  his  bill  between  the  bars,  would  turn  his  sightless 


468 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


head  towards  his  old  master — and  at  that  moment  it  would  be 
very  difficult  to  determine  which  of  the  two  was  the  happier, 
the  bird  or  Tim  Linkinwater. 

Nor  was  this  all.  Everything  gave  back,  besides,  some 
reflection  of  the  kindly  spirit  of  the  brothers.  The  warehouse- 
men and  porters  were  such  sturdy,  jolly  fellows  that  it  was 
a  treat  to  see  them.  Among  the  shipping-announcements  and 
steam-packet  lists  which  decorated  the  counting-house  wall, 
were  designs  for  alms-houses,  statements  of  charities,  and 
plans  for  new  hospitals.  A  blunderbuss  and  two  swords  hung 
above  the  chimney-piece,  for  the  terror  of  evil-doers  ;  but  the 
blunderbuss  was  rusty  and  shattered,  and  the  swords  were 
broken  and  edgeless.  Elsewhere,  their  open  display  in  such 
a  condition  would  have  raised  a  smile  ;  but,  there,  it  seemed 
as  though  even  violent  and  offensive  weapons  j^artook  of  the 
reigning  influence,  and  became  emblems  of  mercy  and  for- 
bearance. 

Such  thoughts  as  these,  occurred  to  Nicholas  very  strongly, 
on  the  morning  when  he  first  took  possession  of  the  vacant 
stool,  and  looked  about  him,  more  freely  and  at  ease  than  he 
had  before  enjoyed  an  opportunity  of  doing.  Perhaps  they 
encouraged  and  stimulated  him  to  exertion,  for,  during  the 
next  two  weeks,  all  his  spare  hours,  late  at  night  and  early  in 
the  morning,  were  incessantly  devoted  to  acquiring  the  mys- 
teries of  book-keeping  and  some  other  forms  of  mercantile 
account.  To  these  he  applied  himself  with  such  steadiness 
and  perseverance  that,  although  he  brought  no  greater  amount 
of  previous  knowledge  to  the  subject  than  certain  dim  recol- 
lections of  two  or  three  very  long  sums  entered  into  a  cypher- 
ing-book  at  school,  and  relieved  for  parental  inspection  by  the 
effigy  of  a  fat  swan  tastefully  flourished  by  the  writing-master's 
own  hand,  he  found  himself,  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  in  a 
condition  to  report  his  proficiency  to  Mr.  Linkinwater,  and 
to  claim  his  promise  that  he,  Nicholas  Nickleby,  should  now 
be  allowed  to  assist  him  in  his  graver  labors. 

It  was  a  sight  to  behold  Tim  Linkinwater  slowly  bring  out 
a  massive  ledger  and  day  book,  and,  after  turning  them  over 
and  over,  and  affectionately  dusting  their  backs  and  sides, 
open  the  leaves  here  and  there,  and  cast  his  eyes,  half  mourn- 
fully, half  proudly,  upon  the  fair  and  unblotted  entries. 

"  P'our-and-forty  year,  next  May  !  "  said  Tim.  Many  new 
ledgers  since  then.     Four-and-forty  year  !  " 

Tim  closed  the  book  again. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  469 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Nicholas,  "  I  am  all  impatience  to 
begin." 

Tim  Linkinwater  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  mild  reproof. 
Mr.  Nickleby  was  not  sufficiently  impressed  with  the  deep  and 
awful  nature  of  his  undertaking.  Suppose  there  should  be  any 
mistake — any  scratching  out ! — 

Young  men  are  adventurous.  It  is  extraordinary  what 
they  will  rush  upon,  sometimes.  Without  even  taking  the  pre- 
caution of  sitting  himself  down  upon  his  stool,  but  standing 
leisurely  at  the  desk,  and  witKasmile  upon  his  face — actually 
a  smile — there  was  no  mistake  about  it ;  Mr.  Linkinwater 
often  mentioned  it  afterwards — Nicholas  dipped  his  pen  into 
the  inkstand  before  him,  and  plunged  into  the  books  of 
Cheeryble  Brothers  ! 

Tim  Linkinwater  turned  pale,  and,  tilting  up  his  stool  on 
the  two  legs  nearest  Nicholas,  looked  over  his  shoulder  in 
breathless  anxiety.  Brother  Charles  and  Brother  Ned  entered 
the  counting-house  together  ;  but  Tim  Linkinwater,  without 
looking  round,  impatiently  waved  his  hand  as  a  caution  that 
profound  silence  must  be  observed,  and  followed  the  nib  of 
the  inexperienced  pen  with  strained  and  eager  eyes. 

The  brothers  looked  on  with  smiling  faces,  but  Tim  Linkin- 
water smiled  not,  nor  moved  for  some  minutes.  At  length, 
he  drew  a  long  slow  breath,  and,  still  maintaining  his  position 
on  the  tilted  stool,  glanced  at  brother  Charles,  secretly  pointed 
with  the  feather  of  his  pen  towards  Nicholas,  and  nodded  his 
head  in  a  grave  and  resolute  manner,  plainly  signifying  "  He'll 
do." 

Brother  Charles  nodded  again,  and  exchanged  a  laughing 
look  with  Brother  Ned ;  but,  just  then,  Nicholas  stopped  to 
refer  to  some  other  page,  and  Tim  Linkinwater,  unable  to  con- 
tain his  satisfaction  any  longer,  descended  from  his  stool,  and 
caught  him  rapturously  by  the  hand. 

"  He  has  done  it ! "  said  Tim,  looking  round  at  his 
employers  and  shaking  his  head  triumphantly.  "  His  capital 
B's  and  D's  are  exactly  like  mine  ;  he  dots  all  his  small  i's 
and  crosses  every  t  as  he  writes  it.  There  an't  such  a  young 
man  as  this  in  all  London,"  said  Tim,  clapping  Nicholas  on 
the  back  ;  "  not  one.  Don't  tell  me  !  The  city  can't  produce 
his  equal.     I  challenge  the  city  to  do  it !  " 

With  this  casting  down  of  his  gauntlet,  Tim  Linkinwater 
struck  the  desk  such  a  blow  with  his  clenched  fist,  that  the 
old  blackbird  tumbled  off  his  perch  with  the  start  it  gave  him, 


47° 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


and  actually  uttered  a  feeble  croak,  in  the  extremity  of  his 
astonishment. 

"  Well  said,  Tim,  well  said,  Tim  Linkinwater ! "  cried 
brother  Charles,  scarcely  less  pleased  than  Tim  himself,  and 
clapping  his  hands  gently  as  he  spoke,  ''  I  knew  our  young 
friend  would  take  great  pains,  and  I  was  quite  certain  he 
would  succeed,  in  no  time.     Didn't  I  say  so,  brother  Ned  ?  " 

"  You  did,  my  dear  brother  ;  certainly,  my  dear  brother, 
you  said  so,  and  you  were  quite  right,"  replied  Ned.  ''Quite 
right.  Tim  Linkinwater  is  excited,  but  he  is  justly  excited, 
properly  excited.  Tim  is  a  fine  fellow.  Tim  Linkinwater,  sir 
— you're  a  fine  fellow." 

"  Here's  a  pleasant  thing  to  think  of  !  "  said  Tim,  wholly 
regardless  of  this  address  to  himself,  and  raising  his  spectacles 
from  the  ledger  to  the  brothers.  "  Here's  a  pleasant  thing. 
Do  you  suppose  I  haven't  often  thought  what  would  become 
of  these  books  when  I  was  gone  .''  Do  you  suppose  I  haven't 
often  thought  that  things  might  go  on  irregular  and  untidy 
here,  after  I  was  taken  away  1  But  now,"  said  Tim,  extend- 
ing his  fore-finger  towards  Nicholas,  "  now,  when  I've  shown 
him  a  little  more,  I'm  satisfied.  The  business  will  go  on, 
when  I'm  dead,  as  well  as  it  did  when  I  was  alive — just  the 
same — and  I  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  there 
never  were  such  books — never  were  such  books !  No,  nor 
never  will  be  such  books — as  the  books  of  Cheeryble  Brothers." 
Having  thus  expressed  his  sentiments,  Mr.  Linkinwater 
gave  vent  to  a  short  laugh,  indicative  of  defiance  to  the  cities  of 
London  and  Westminster,  and,  turning  again  to  his  desk, 
quietly  carried  seventy-six  from  the  last  column  he  had  added 
up,  and  went  on  with  his  work. 

"  Tim  Linkinwater,  sir,"  said  brother  Charles  ;  "  give  me 
your  hand,  sir.  This  is  your  birth-day.  How  dare  you  talk 
about  anything  else  till  you  have  been  wished  many  happy 
returns  of  the  day,  Tim  Linkinwater?  God  bless  you,  Tim! 
God  bless  you  !  " 

"  My  dear  brother,"  said  the  other,  seizing  Tim's  dis- 
engaged fist,  "Tim  Linkinwater  looks  ten  years  younger  than 
he  did  on  his  last  birth-day." 

"  Brother  Ned,  my  dear  boy,"  returned  the  other  old  fellow, 
"  I  believe  that  Tim  Linkinwater  was  born  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  old,  and  is  gradually  coming  down  to  five-and-twenty  ; 
for  he's  younger  every  birth-day  than  he  was  the  year  before." 

"  So  he  is,  brother  Charles,  so  he  is,"  replied  brother  Ned. 
"  There's  not  a  doubt  about  it." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  471 

• 

"Remember,  Tim,"  said  brother  Charles,  "that  we  dine 
at  half-past  five  to-day  instead  of  two  o'clock  ;  we  always  de- 
part from  our  usual  custom  on  this  anniversary,  as  you  very 
well  know,  Tim  Linkinwater.  Mr.  Nickleby,  my  dear  sir,  you 
will  make  one.  Tim  Linkinwater,  give  me  your  snuff-box  as 
a  remembrance  to  brother  Charles  and  myself  of  an  attached 
and  faithful  rascal,  and  take  that,  in  exchange,  as  a  feeble  mark 
of  our  respect  and  esteem,  and  don't  open  it  until  you  go  to 
bed,  and  never  say  another  word  upon  the  subject,  or  I'll  kill 
the  blackbird.  A  dog  1  He  should  have  had  a  golden  cage 
half-a-dozen  years  ago,  if  it  would  have  made  him  or  his 
master  a  bit  the  happier.  Now,  brother  Ned,  my  dear  fellow, 
I'm  ready.  At  half-past  five,  remember,  Mr.  Nickleby  !  Tim 
Linkinwater,  sir,  take  care  of  Mr.  Nickleby  at  half-past  five. 
Now,  brother  Ned." 

Chattering  away  thus,  according  to  custom,  to  prevent  the 
possibility  of  any  thanks  or  acknowledgment  being  expressed 
on  the  other  side,  the  twins  trotted  off,  arm  in  arm  ;  having 
endowed  Tim  Linkinwater  with  a  costly  gold  snuff-box,  in- 
closing a  bank  note  worth  more  than  its  value  ten  times  told. 

At  a  quarter  past  five  o'clock,  punctual  to  the  minute,  arrived 
according  to  annual  usage,  Tim  Linkinwater's  sister ;  and  a 
great  to-do  there  was,  between  Tim  Linkinwater's  sister  and 
the  old  housekeeper,  respecting  Tim  Linkinwater's  sister's  cap, 
which  had  been  despatched,  per  boy,  from  the  house  of  the 
family  where  Tim  Linkinwater's  sister  boarded,  and  had  not 
yet  come  to  hand  ;  notwithstanding  that  it  had  been  packed 
up  in  a  bandbox,  and  the  bandbox  in  a  handkerchief,  and  the 
handkerchief  tied  on  to  the  boy's  arm ;  and  notwithstanding 
too,  that  the  place  of  its  consignment  had  been  duly  set  forth 
at  full  length,  on  the  back  of  an  old  letter,  and  the  boy  en- 
joined, under  pain  of  divers  horrible  penalties,  the  full  ex- 
tent of  which  the  eye  of  man  could  not  foresee,  to  deliver  the 
same  with  all  possible  speed,  and  not  to  loiter  by  the  way.  Tim 
Linkinwater's  sister  lamented  ;  the  housekeeper  condoled  ; 
and  both  kept  thrusting  their  heads  out  of  the  second-tioor 
window  to  see  if  the  boy  was  "  coming," — which  would  have 
been  highly  satisfactor}^  and,  upon  the  whole,  tantamount  to 
his  being  come,  as  the  distance  to  the  corner  was  not  quite 
five  yards — when,  all  of  a  sudden,  and  when  he  was  least  ex- 
pected, the  messenger,  carrying  the  bandbox  with  elaborate 
caution,  appeared  in  an  exactly  opposite  direction,  puffing  and 
panting  for  breath,  and  flushed  with  recent  exercise  ;  as  welj 


472  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

• 

he  might  be ;  for  he  had  taken  the  air,  in  the  first  instance 
behind  a  hackney-coach  that  went  to  Camberwell,  and  had 
followed  two  Punches  afterwards,  and  had  seen  the  Stilts  home 
to  their  own  door.  The  cap  was  all  safe  however — that  was 
one  comfort — and  it  was  no  use  scolding  him — that  was 
another ;  so  the  boy  went  upon  his  way  rejoicing,  and  Tim 
Linkinwater's  sister  presented  herself  to  the  company  below 
stairs,  just  five  minutes  after  the  half-hour  had  struck  by  Tim 
Linkinwater's  own  infallible  clock. 

The  company  consisted  of  the  Brothers  Cheeryble,  Tim 
Linkinwater,  a  ruddy-faced  white-headed  friend  of  Tim's  (who 
was  a  superannuated  bank  clerk),  and  Nicholas,  who  was  pre- 
sented to  Tim  Linkinwater's  sister  with  much  gravity  and  so- 
lemnity. The  party  being  now  completed,  brother  Ned  rang 
for  dinner,  and,  dinner  being  shortly  afterwards  announced, 
led  Tim  Linkinwater's  sister  into  the  next  room  where  it 
was  set  forth  with  great  preparation.  Then,  brother  Ned  took 
the  head  of  the  table,  and  brother  Charles  the  foot ;  and  Tim 
Linkinwater's  sister  sat  on  the  left-hand  of  brother  Ned,  and 
Tim  Linkinwater  himself  on  his  right  :  and  an  ancient  butler  of 
apoplectic  appearance,  and  with  very  short  legs,  took  up  his 
position  at  the  back  of  brother  Ned's  ann-chair,  and,  waving 
his  right  arm  preparatory  to  taking  off  the  covers  with  a  flourish, 
stood  bolt  upright  and  motionless. 

"  For  these  and  all  other  blessings,  brother  Charles,"  said 
Ned. 

"  Lord,  make  us  truly  thankful,  brother  Ned,"  said  Charles. 
Whereupon  the  apoplectic  butler  whisked  off  the  top  of 
the  soup-tureen,  and  shot,  all  at  once,  into  a  state  of  violent 
activity. 

There  was  abundance  of  conversation,  and  little  fear  of  its 
ever  flagging,  for  the  good-humor  of  the  glorious  old  twins  drew 
everj-body  out,  and  Tim  Linkinwater's  sister  went  off  into  a 
long  and  circumstantial  account  of  Tim  Linkinwater's  infancy, 
immediately  after  the  very  first  glass  of  champagne — taking 
care  to  premise  that  she  was  very  much  Tim's  junior,  and  had 
only  become  acquainted  with  the  facts  from  their  being  pre- 
served and  handed  down  in  the  family.  This  histoiy  concluded, 
brother  Ned  related  how  that,  exactly  thirty-five  years  ago,  Tim 
Linkinwater  was  suspected  to  have  received  a  love-letter,  and 
how  that  vague  information  had  been  brought  to  the  counting- 
house  of  his  having  been  seen  walking  down  Cheapside  with 
an  uncommonly  handsome  spinster  ;  at  which  there  was  a  roar 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  47^ 

of  laughter,  and  Tim  Linkinwater  being  charged  with  blushing, 
and  called  upon  to  explain,  denied  that  the  accusation  was 
true  ;  and  further,  that  there  would  have  been  any  harm  in  it 
if  it  had  been  ;  which  last  position  occasioned  the  superannu- 
ated bank  clerk  to  laugh  tremendously,  and  to  declare  that  it 
was  the  very  best  thing  he  had  ever  heard  in  his  life,  and  that 
Tim  Linkinwater  might  say  a  great  many  things  before  he 
said  anything  which  would  beat  that. 

There  was  one  little  ceremony  peculiar  to  the  day,  both 
the  matter  and  manner  of  which  made  a  very  strong  impres- 
sion upon  Nicholas.  The  cloth  having  been  removed  and  the 
decanters  sent  round  for  the  first  time,  a  profound  silence  suc- 
ceeded, and  in  the  cheerful  faces  of  the  brothers  there  appear- 
ed an  expression,  not  of  absolute  melancholy,  but  of  quiet 
thoughtful ness  very  unusual  at  a  festive  table.  As  Nicholas, 
struck  by  this  sudden  alteration,  was  wondering  what  it  could 
portend,  the  brothers  rose  together,  and  the  one  at  the  top 
of  the  table  leaning  forward  towards  the  other,  and  speaking 
in  a  low  voice  as  if  he  were  addressing  him  individually, 
said  : 

"  Brother  Charles,  my  dear  fellow,  there  is  another  asso- 
ciation connected  with  this  day  which  must  never  be  forgotten, 
and  never  can  be  forgotten,  by  you  and  me.  This  day,  which 
brought  into  the  world  a  most  faithful  and  excellent  and  ex- 
emplary fellow,  took  from  it,  the  kindest  and  very  best  of 
parents,  the  very  best  of  parents  to  us  both.  I  wish  that  she 
could  have  seen  us  in  our  prosperity,  and  shared  it,  and  had 
the  happiness  of  knowing  how  dearly  we  loved  her  in  it,  as 
we  did  when  we  were  two  poor  boys  ;  but  that  was  not  to  be. 
My  dear  brother— The  Memory  of  our  Mother." 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  thought  Nicholas,  "  and  there  are  scores  of 
people  of  their  own  station,  knowing  all  this,  and  twenty  thou- 
sand times  more,  who  wouldn't  ask  these  men  to  dinner  be- 
cause they  eat  with  their  knives,  and  never  went  to  school !  " 

But  there  was  no  time  to  moralize,  for  the  joviality  again 
became  very  brisk,  and  the  decanter  of  port  being  nearly  out, 
brother  Ned  pulled  the  bell,  which  was  instantly  answered  by 
the  apoplectic  butler. 

"  David,"  said  brother  Ned. 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  butler. 

"  A  magnum  of  the  double-diamond,  David,  to  drink  the 
health  of  Mr.  Linkinwater." 

Instantly,  by  a  feat  of  dexterity,  which  was  the  admiration 


474  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

of  all  the  company,  and  had  been,  annually,  for  some  years 
past,  the  apoplectic  butler,  bringing  his  left  hand  from  behind 
the  small  of  his  back,  produced  the  bottle  with  the  corkscrew 
already  inserted  ;  uncorked  it  at  a  jerk  ;  and  placed  the 
magnum  and  the  cork  before  his  master  with  the  dignity  of 
conscious  cleverness. 

"  Ha  ! "  said  brother  Ned,  first  examining  the  cork  and 
afterwards  filling  his  glass  while  the  old  butler  looked  com- 
placently and  amiably  on,  as  if  it  were  all  his  own  property, 
but  the  company  were  quite  welcome  to  make  free  with  it, 
"  this  looks  well,  David." 

"  It  ought  to,  sir,"  replied  David.  "  You'd  be  troubled  to 
find  such  a  glass  of  wine  as  is  our  double-diamond,  and  that 
Mr.  Linkinwater  knows  very  well.  That  was  laid  down,  when 
Mr.  Linkinwater  first  come,  that  wine  was,  gendemen." 

"  Nay,  David,  nay,"  interposed  brother  Charles. 

"  I  wrote  the  entry  in  the  cellar-book  myself,  sir,  //"you 
please,"  said  David,  in  the  tone  of  a  man,  quite  confident  in 
the  strength  of  his  facts.  "  Mr.  Linkinwater  had  only  been 
here  twenty  year,  sir,  when  that  pipe  of  double-diamond  was 
laid  down." 

"  David  is  quite  right,  quite  right,  brother  Charles,"  said 
Ned  :  "  are  the  people  here,  David  t  " 

"  Outside  the  door,  sir,"  replied  the  butler. 

"  Show  'em  in,  David,  show  'em  in." 

At  this  bidding,  the  old  butler  placed  before  his  master  a 
small  tray  of  clean  glasses,  and  opening  the  door  admitted  the 
jolly  porters  and  warehousemen  whom  Nicholas  had  seen 
below.  They  were  four  in  all.  As  they  came  in,  bowing,  and 
grinning,  and  blushing,  the  housekeeper,  and  cook,  and  house- 
maid, brought  up  the  rear. 

"  Seven,"  said  brother  Ned,  filling  a  corresponding  num- 
ber of  glasses  with  the  double-diamond,  "  and  David,  eight — 
There  !  Now  you're  all  of  you  to  drink  the  health  of  your 
best  friend  Mr.  Timothy  Linkinwater,  and  wish  him  health 
and  long  life  and  many  happy  returns  of  this  day,  both  for  his 
own  sake  and  that  of  your  old  masters,  who  consider  him  an 
inestimable  treasure.  Tim  Linkinwater,  sir,  your  health. 
Devil  take  you,  Tim  Linkinwater,  sir,  God  bless  you." 

With  this  singular  contradiction  of  terms,  brother  Ned 
gave  Tim  Linkinwater  a  slap  on  the  back,  which  made  him 
look,  for  the  moment,  almost  as  apoplectic  as  the  butler  ;  and 
tossed  off  the  contents  of  his  glass  in  a  twinkling. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


475 


The  toast  was  scarcely  drunk  with  all  honor  to  Tim  Lin- 
kinwater,  when  the  sturdiest  and  jolliest  subordinate  elbowed 
himself  a  little  in  advance  of  his  fellows,  and  exhibiting  a 
very  hot  and  flushed  countenance,  pulled  a  single  lock  of 
gray  hair  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead  as  a  respectful  salute 
to  the  company,  and  delivered  himself  as  follows — rubbing 
the  palms  of  his  hands  very  hard  on  a  blue  cotton  handker- 
chief as  he  did  so  : 

"  We're  allowed  to  take  a  liberty  once  a  year,  gen'lemen, 
and  if  you  please  we'll  take  it  now  ;  there  being  no  time  like 
the  present,  and  no  two  birds  in  the  hand  worth  one  in  the 
bush  as  is  well  known — leastways  in  a  contrary  sense,  which 
the  meaning  is  the  same.  (A  pause — the  butler  unconvinced.) 
What  we  mean  to  say  is,  that  there  never  was  (looking  at  the 
butler) — such — (looking  at  the  cook)  noble — excellent — (look- 
ing everywhere  and  seeing  nobody)  free,  generous  spirited 
masters  as  them  as  has  treated  us  so  handsome  this  day.  And 
here's  thanking  of  'em  for  all  their  goodness  as  is  so  constancy 
a  diffusing  of  itself  over  everywhere,  and  wishing  they  may 
live  long  and  die  happy !  " 

When  the  foregoing  speech  was  over — and  it  might  have 
been  much  more  elegant  and  much  less  to  the  purpose — the 
whole  body  of  subordinates  under  command  of  the  apoplectic 
butler  gave  three  soft  cheers  ;  which,  to  that  gentleman's  great 
indignation,  were  not  very  regular,  inasmuch  as  the  women 
persisted  in  giving  an  immense  number  of  little  shrill  hurrahs 
among  themselves,  in  utter  disregard  of  the  time.  This  done, 
they  withdrew ;  shortly  afterwards,  Tim  Linkinwater's  sister 
withdrew  ;  in  reasonable  time  after  that,  the  sitting  was  broken 
up  for  tea  and  coffee,  and  a  round  game  of  cards. 

At  half-past  ten — late  hours  for  the  square — there  appeared 
a  little  tray  of  sandwiches  and  a  bowl  of  bishop,  which  bishop 
coming  on  the  top  of  the  double  diamond,  and  other  excite- 
ments, had  such  an  effect  upon  Tim  Linkinwater,  that  he  drew 
Nicholas  aside,  and  gave  him  to  understand,  confidentially,  that 
it  was  quite  true  about  the  uncommonly  handsome  spinster, 
and  that  she  was  to  the  full  as  good-looking  as  she  had  been 
described — more  so,  indeed — but  that  she  was  in  too  much  of  a 
hurry  to  change  her  condition,  and  consequently,  while  Tim 
was  courting  her  and  thinking  of  changing  his,  got  married  to 
somebody  else.  "  After  all,  I  dare  say  it  was  my  fault,"  said 
Tim.  "  I'll  show  you  a  print  I  have  got  up  stairs,  one  of  these 
days.     It  cost  me  five-and-twenty  shillings.     I  bought  it,  soon 


476 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


after  we  were  cool  to  each  other.  Don't  mention  it,  but  it's 
the  most  extraordinary  accidental  likeness  you  ever  saw — her 
very  portrait,  sir  !  " 

By  this  time  it  was  past  eleven  o'clock  ;  and  Tim  Linkin- 
water's  sister  declaring  that  she  ought  to  have  been  at  home 
a  full  hour  ago,  a  coach  was  procured,  into  which  she  was 
handed  with  great  ceremony  by  brother  Ned,  while  brother 
Charles  imparted  the  fullest  directions  to  the  coachman,  and, 
besides  paying  the  man  a  shilling  over  and  above  his  fare,  in 
order  that  he  might  take  the  utmost  care  of  the  lady,  all  but 
choked  him  with  a  glass  of  spirits  of  uncommon  strength,  and 
then  nearly  knocked  all  the  breath  out  of  his  body  in  his 
energetic  endeavors  to  knock  it  in  again. 

At  length  the  coach  rumbled  off,  and  Tim  Linkinwater's 
sister  being  now  fairly  on  her  way  home,  Nicholas  and  Tim 
Linkinwater's  friend  took  their  leaves  together,  and  left  old 
Tim  and  the  worthy  brothers  to  their  repose. 

As  Nicholas  had  some  distance  to  walk,  it  w^s  considerably 
past  midnight  by  the  time  he  reached  home,  where  he  found 
his  mother  and  Smike  sitting  up  to  receive  him.  It  was  long 
after  their  usual  hour  of  retiring,  and  they  had  expected  him, 
at  the  very  latest,  two  hours  ago  ;  but  the  time  had  not  hung 
heavily  on  their  hands,  for  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  entertained 
Smike  with  a  genealogical  account  of  her  family  by  the 
mother's  side,  comprising  biographical  sketches  of  the  princi- 
pal members,  and  Smike  had  sat  wondering  what  it  was  all 
about,  and  whether  it  was  learnt  from  a  book,  or  said  out  of 
Mrs.  Nickleby's  own  head  ;  so  that  they  got  on  together  very 
pleasantly. 

Nicholas  could  not  go  to  bed  without  expatiating  on  the  ex- 
cellences and  munificence  of  the  Brothers  Cheery'ble,  and 
relating  the  great  success  which  had  attended  his  efforts  that 
day.  But  before  he  had  said  a  dozen  words,  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
with  many  sly  winks  and  nods,  observed,  that  she  was  sure 
Mr.  Smike  must  be  quite  tired  out,  and  that  she  positively 
must  insist  on  his  not  sitting  up  a  minute  longer. 

"  A  most  biddable  creature  he  is  to  be  sure,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  when  Smike  had  wished  them  good-night  and  left 
the  room.  "  I  know  you'll  excuse  me,  Nicholas,  my  dear,  but 
I  don't  like  to  do  this  before  a  third  person  ;  indeed,  before 
a  young  man  it  would  not  be  quite  proper,  though  really,  after 
all,  I  don't  know  what  harm  there  is  in  it,  except  that  to  be 
sure  it's  not  a  very  becoming  thing,  though  some  people  say  it 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  47  - 

is  very  much  so,  and  really  I  don't  know  why  it  should  not  be, 
if  it's  well  got  up,  and  the  borders  are  small  plaited,  of  course, 
a  good  deal  depends  upon  that." 

With  which  preface,  Mrs.  Nickleby  took  her  night-cap 
from  between  the  leaves  of  a  very  large  prayer-book  where  it 
had  been  folded  up,  small,  and  proceeded  to'  tie  it  on  ;  talking 
away,  in  her  usual  discursive  manner,  all  the  time. 

"  People  may  say  what  they  like,"  observed  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
"but  there's  a  great  deal  of  comfort  in  a  night-cap,  as  I'm 
sure  you  would  confess,  Nicholas,  my  dear,  if  you  would  only 
have  strings  to  yours,  and  wear  it  like  a  Christian,  instead  of 
sticking  it  upon  the  very  top  of  your  head  like  a  blue-coat  boy. 
You  needn't  think  it  an  unmanly  or  quizzical  thing  to  be  par- 
ticular about  your  night-cap,  for  I  have  often  heard  your  poor 
dear  papa,  and  the  Reverend  Mr.  what's-his-name,  who  used 
to  read  praye-rs  in  that  old  church  with  the  curious  little  steeple 
that  the  weathercock  was  blown  off  the  night  week  before  you 
were  born, — I  have  often  heard  them  say,  that  the  young  men 
at  college  are  uncommonly  particular  about  their  night  caps, 
and  that  the  Oxford  night  caps  are  quite  celebrated  for  their 
strength  and  goodness  ;  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  the  young 
men  never  dream  of  going  to  bed  without  'em,  and  I  believe 
it's  admitted  on  all  hands  that  they  know  what's  good,  and 
don't  coddle  themselves." 

Nicholas  laughed,  and  entering  no  further  into  the  sub- 
ject of  this  lengthened  harangue,  reverted  to  the  pleasant  tone 
of  the  little  birthday  party.  And  as  Mrs.  Nickleby  instantly 
became  very  curious  respecting  it,  and  made  a  great  number  of 
inquiries  touching  what  they  had  had  for  dinner,  and  how  it 
was  put  on  table,  and  whether  it  was  overdone  or  under- 
done, and  who  was  there,  and  what  "  the  Mr.  Cherrybles  " 
said,  and  what  Nicholas  said,  and  what  the  Mr.  Cherrybles* 
said  when  he  said  that ;  Nicholas  described  the  festivities  at 
full  length,  and  also  the  occurrences  of  the  morning. 

"  Late  as  it  is,"  said  Nicholas,  "  I  am  almost  selfish  enough 
to  wish  that  Kate  had  been  up ;  to  hear  all  this.  I  was  all 
impatience,  as  I  came  along,  to  tell  her." 

"  Why,  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  putting  her  feet  upon 
,  the  fender,  and  drawing  her  chair  close  to  it,  as  if  settling 
herself  for  a  long  talk.  "  Kate  has  been  in  bed — oh  !  a  couple 
of  hours — and  I'm  very  glad,  Nicholas  my  dear,  that  I  pre- 
vailed upon  her  not  to  sit  up,  for  I  wished  very  much  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  saying  a  few  words  to  you.     I  am  naturally 


478 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


anxious  about  it,  and  of  course  it's  a  very  delightful  and  con- 
soling thing  to  have  a  grown-up  son  that  one  can  put  confi- 
dence in,  and  advise  with  ;  indeed  I  don't  know  any  use  there 
would  be  in  having  sons  at  all,  unless  people  could  put  confi- 
dence in  them." 

Nicholas  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  sleepy  yawn,  as  his 
mother  began  to  speak,  and  looked  at  her  with  fixed  atten- 
tion. 

"  There  was  a  lady  in  our  neighborhood,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  "  speaking  of  sons  puts  me  in  mind  of  it — a  lady  in 
our  neighborhood  when  we  lived  near  Dawlish,  I  think  her 
name  was  Rogers  ;  indeed  I  am  sure  it  was  if  it  wasn't 
Murphy,  which  is  the  only  doubt  I  have " 

"  Is  it  about  her,  mother,  that  you  wish  to  speak  to  me  ? " 
said  Nicholas  quietly. 

"About  her r'  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "Good  gracious, 
Nicholas,  my  dear,  how  can  you  be  so  ridiculous  !  But  that  was 
always  the  way  with  your  poor  dear  papa, — just  his  way — 
always  wandering,  never  able  to  fix  his  thoughts  on  any  one 
subject  for  two  minutes  together.  I  think  I  see  him  now  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  wiping  her  eyes,  "  looking  at  me  while  I 
was  talking  to  him  about  his  affairs,  just  as  if  his  ideas  were  in 
a  state  of  perfect  conglomeration  !  Anybody  who  had  come  in 
upon  us  suddenly,  would  have  supposed  I  was  confusing  and 
distracting  him  instead  of  making  things  plainer  ;  upon  my 
word  they  would." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  mother,  that  I  should  inherit  this  un- 
fortunate slowness  of  apprehension,"  said  Nicholas,  kindly ; 
"  but  I'll  do  my  best  to  understand  you,  if  you'll  only  go 
straight  on." 

"  Your  poor  papa  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  pondering.  "  He 
never  knew,  till  it  was  too  late,  what  I  would  have  had  him 
do!" 

This  was  undoubtedly  the  case,  inasmuch  as  the  deceased 
Mr.  Nickleby  had  not  arrived  at  the  knowledge  when  he  died. 
Neither  had  Mrs.  Nickleby  herself ;  which  is,  in  some  sort,  an 
explanation  of  the  circumstance. 

"  However,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  drying  her  tears,  "  this 
has  nothing  to  do — certainly,  nothing  whatever  to  do — withs 
the  gentleman  in  the  next  house." 

"  I  should  suppose  that  the  gentleman  in  the  next  house 
has  as  little  to  do  with  us,"  returned  Nicholas. 

"There  can  be  no  doubt,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "that  he 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  ^70 

is  a  gentleman,  and  has  the  manners  of  a  gentleman,  and  the 
appearance  of  a  gentleman,  although  he  does  wear  smalls  and 
gray  worsted  stockings.  That  may  be  eccentricity,  or  he  may 
be  proud  of  his  legs.  I  don't  see  why  he  shouldn't  be.  The 
Prince  Regent  was  proud  of  his  legs,  and  so  was  Daniel 
Lambert,  who  was  also  a  fat  man  ;  he  was  proud  of  his  legs. 
So  was  Miss  Biffin  ;  she  was — no,"  added  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
correcting  herself,  "  I  think  she  had  only  toes,  but  the  prin- 
ciple is  the  same." 

Nicholas  looked  on,  quite  amazed  at  the  introduction  of 
this  new  theme.  Which  seemed  just  what  Mrs.  Nickleby  had 
expected  him  to  be. 

"  You  may  well  be  surprised,  Nicholas,  my  dear,"  she 
said,  "  I  am  sure  /was.  It  came  upon  me  like  a  flash  of  fire, 
and  almost  froze  my  blood.  The  bottom  of  his  garden  joins 
the  bottom  of  ours,  and  of  course  I  had  several  times  seen 
him  sitting  among  the  scarlet-beans  in  his  little  arbor,  or 
working  at  his  little  hot-beds.  I  used  to  think  he  stared 
rather,  but  I  didn't  take  any  particular  notice  of  that,  as  we 
were  new-comers,  and  he  might  be  curious  to  see  what  we 
were  like.  But  when  he  began  to  throw  his  cucumbers  over 
our  wall " 

"  To  throw  his  cucumbers  over  our  wall  ? "  repeated 
Nicholas,  in  great  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  Nicholas,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby  in  a  very 
serious  tone  ;  "  his  cucumbers  over  our  wall.  And  vegetable- 
marrows  likewise." 

"  Confound  his  impudence  !  "  said  Nicholas,  firing  im- 
mediately.    "What  does  he  mean  by  that.?" 

"  I  don't  think  he  means  it  impertinently  at  all,"  replied 
Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  What !  "  said  Nicholas.  "  Cucumbers  and  vegetable- 
marrows  flying  at  the  heads  of  the  family  as  they  walk  in 
their  own  garden,  and  not  meant  impertinently !  Why, 
mother " 

Nicholas  stopped  short ;  for  there  waS  an  indescribable 
expression  of  placid  triumph,  mingled  with  a  modest  confusion, 
lingering  between  the  borders  of  Mrs.  Nickleby's  nightcap, 
which  arrested  his  attention  suddenly. 

"  He  must  be  a  very  weak,  and  foolish,  and  inconsiderate 
man,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby;  "blameable,  indeed — at  least  I 
suppose  other  people  would  consider  him  so  ;  of  course  I 
can't  be  expected  to   express   any   opinion   on  that   point, 


480  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

especially  after  always  defending  your  poor  dear  papa  when 
other  people  blamed  him  for  making  proposals  to  me ;  and 
to  be  sure  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  has  taken  a  very 
singular  way  of  showing  it.  Still  at  the  same  time,  his 
attentions  are — that  is,  as  far  as  it  goes,  and  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent of  course — a  flattering  sort  of  thing.  And  although  I 
should  never  dream  of  marrying  again  with  a  dear  girl  like 
Kate  still  unsettled  in  life " 

"  Surely,  mother,  such  an  idea  never  entered  your  brain 
for  an  instant  t  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Bless  my  heart,  Nicholas,  my  dear,"  returned  his  mother 
in  a  peevish  tone,  "  isn't  that  precisely  what  I  am  saying,  if 
you  would  only  let  me  speak  ?  Of  course,  I  never  gave  it  a 
second  thought,  and  I  am  surprised  and  astonished  that  you 
should  suppose  me  capable  of  such  a  thing.  All  I  say  is, 
what  step  is  the  best  to  take,  so  as  to  reject  these  advances 
civilly  and  delicately,  and  without  hurting  his  feelings  too 
much,  and  driving  him  to  despair,  or  anything  of  that  kind  ? 
My  goodness  me  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  a  half 
simper,  "  suppose  he  was  to  go  doing  anything  rash  to  himself. 
Could  I  ever  be  happy  again,  Nicholas  ?  " 

Despite  his  vexation  and  concern,  Nicholas  could  scarcely 
help  smiling,  as  he  rejoined,  "  Now,  do  you  think,  mother, 
that  such  a  result  would  be  likely  to  ensue  from  the  most 
cruel  repulse  ? " 

"  Upon  my  word,  my  dear,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Mrs. 
Nickleby  ;  "  really,  I  don't  know.  I  am  sure  there  was  a  case 
in  the  day  before  yesterday's  paper,  extracted  from  one  of  the 
French  newspapers,  about  a  journeyman  shoemaker  who  was 
jealous  of  a  young  girl  in  an  adjoining  village,  because  she 
wouldn't  shut  herself  up  in  an  air-tight  three-pair-of-stairs,  and 
charcoal  herself  to  death  with  him  ;  and  who  went  and  hid 
himself  in  a  Wood  with  a  sharp-pointed  knife,  and  rushed  out, 
as  she  was  passing  by  with  a  few  friends,  and  killed  himself 
first  and  then  all  the  friends,  and  then  her — no,  killed  all  the 
friends  first,  and  then  herself,  and  then  /«V«self — which  it  is 
quite  frightful  to  think  of.  Somehow  or  other,"  added  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  after  a  momentary  pause,  "they  always  are  journey- 
men shoemakers  who  do  these  things  in  France,  according  to 
the  papers.  I  don't  know  how  it  is — something  in  the  leather, 
I  suppose." 

"  But  this  man,  who  is  not  a  shoemaker — what  has  he 
done,  mother,  what  has  he  said  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas,  fretted 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


4?.^ 


almost  beyond  endurance,  but  looking  nearly  as  resigned  ai?d 
patient  as  Mrs.  Nickleby  herself.  "  You  know,  there  is  no 
language  of  vegetables,  which  converts  a  cucumber  into  a 
formal  declaration  of  attachment." 

"  My  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  tossing  her  head  ana 
looking  at  the  ashes  in  the  grate,  "he  has  done  and  said  all 
sorts  of  things." 

"  Is  there  no  mistake  on  your  part  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  Mistake  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Lord,  Nicholas  my 
dear,  do  you  suppose  I  don't  know  when  a  man's  in  earnest .'  " 

"  Well,  well !  "  muttered  Nicholas. 

"  Ever}^  time  I  go  to  the  window,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
"  he  kisses  one  hand,  and  lays  the  other  upon  his  heart — of 
course  it's  ver}^  foolish  of  him  to  do  so,  and  I  dare  say  you'll 
say  it's  very  wrong,  but  he  does  it  very  respectfully — very 
respectfully  indeed — and  very  tenderly,  extremely  tenderly. 
So  far,  he  deserves  the  greatest  credit  ;  there  can  be  no  doubt 
about  that.  Then,  there  are  the  presents  which  come  pouring 
over  the  wall  every  day,  and  very  fine  they  certainly  are,  very 
fine  ;  we  had  one  of  the  cucumbers  at  dinner  yesterday,  and 
think  of  pickling  the  rest  for  next  winter.  And  last  evening," 
added  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  increased  confusion,  "  he  called 
gently  over  the  wall,  as  I  was  walking  in  the  garden,  and  pro- 
posed marriage,  and  an  elopement.  His  voice  is  as  clear  as 
a  bell  or  a  musical  glass — very  like  a  musical  glass  indeed — 
but  of  course  I  didn't  listen  to  it.  Then,  the  question  is, 
Nicholas  my  dear,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  Does  Kate  know  of  this  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"I  have  not  said  a  word  about  it  yet,"  answered  his 
mother. 

"  Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,"  rejoined  Nicholas,  rising, 
"  do  not,  for  it  would  make  her  very  unhappy.  And  with  re- 
gard to  what  you  should  do,  my  dear  mother,  do  what  your 
good  sense  and  feeling,  and  respect  for  my  father's  memory, 
would  prompt.  There  are  a  thousand  ways  in  w^hich  you  can 
show  your  dislilce  of  these  preposterous  and  doting  attentions. 
If  you  act  as  decidedly  as  you  ought  and  they  are  still  con- 
tinued, and  to  your  annoyance,  I  can  speedily  put  a  stop  to 
them.  But  I  should  not  interfere  in  a  matter  so  ridiculous,  and 
attach  importance  to  it,  until  you  have  vindicated  yourself. 
Most  women  can  do  that,  but  especially  one  of  your  age  and 
condition,  in  circumstances  like  these,  which  are  unworthy  of 
a  serious  thought.     I  would  not  shame  you  by  seeming   to 

31 


482 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


take  them  to  heart,  or  treat  them  earnestly  for  an  instant.  Ab- 
surd old  idiot !  " 

So  saying,  Nicholas  kissed  his  mother,  and  bade  her  good- 
night, and  they  retired  to  their  respective  chambers. 

To  do  Mrs.  Nickleby  justice,  her  attachment  to  her  chil- 
dren would  have  prevented  her  seriously  contemplating  a  sec- 
ond marriage,  even  if  she  could  have  so  far  conquered  her 
recollections  of  her  late  husband  as  to  have  any  strong  incli- 
nations that  way,  _But,  although  there  was  no  evil  jand^  little 
real  selfishness  in  Mrs.  Xickleby's  heart,  she  liad  a  weak  head 
and  a  vain  one  ;  and  there  was  something  so  flattering  in  being 
sought  (and  vainly  sought)  in  marriage  at  this  time  of  day, 
that  she  could  not  dismiss  the  passion  of  the  unkhown'gentle- 
man,  quite  so  summarily  or  lightly,  as  Nicholas  appeared  to 
deem  becoming. 

"  As  to  its  being  preposterous,  and  doting,  and  ridiculous," 
thought  Mrs.  Nickleby,  communing  with  herself  in  her  own 
room,  "  I  don't  see  that,  at  all.  It's  hopeless  on  his  part, 
certainly  ;  but  why  he  should  be  an  absurd  old  idiot,  I  confess 
I  don't  see.  He  is  not  to  be  supposed  to  know  it's  hopeless. 
Poor  fellow  !     He  is  to  be  pitied,  /think  !  " 

Having  made  these  reliections,  Mrs.  Nickleby  looked  in 
her  little  dressing-glass,  and  walking  backward  a  few  steps 
from  it,  tried  to  remember  who  it  was  who  used  to  say  that 
when  Nicholas  was  one-and-twenty  he  would  have  more  the 
appearance  of  her  brother,  than  her  son.  Not  being  able  to 
call  the  authority  to  mind,  she  extinguished  her  candle,  and 
drew  up  the  window-blind  to  admit  the  light  of  morning,  which 
had,  by  this  time,  began  to  dawn. 

"  It's  a  bad  light  to  distinguish  objects  in,"  murmured 
Mrs.  Nickleby,  peering  into  the  garden,  and  my  eyes  are  not 
very  good — I  was  short-sighted  from  a  child — but,  upon  my 
word,  I  think  there's  another  large  vegetable  marrow  sticking, 
at  this  moment,  on  the  broken  glass  bottles  at  the  top  of  the 
wall  !  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  483 


CHAPTER  XXXVIIT. 

COMPRISES  CERTAIN  PARTICULARS  ARISING  OUT  OF  A  VISIT 
OF  CONDOLENCE,  WHICH  MAY  PROVE  IMPORTANT  HERE- 
AFTER. SMIKE  UNEXPECTEDLY  ENCOUNTERS  A  VERY  OLD 
FRIEND,  WHO  INVITES  HIM  TO  HIS  HOUSE,  AND  WILL  TAKE 
NO    DENIAL. 

Quite  unconscious  of  the  demonstrations  of  their  amorous 
neighbor,  or  of  their  effects  upon  the  susceptible  bosom  of  her 
mama,  Kate  Nicl<leby  had,  by  this  time,  begun  to  enjoy  a 
settled  feeling  of  tranquillity  and  happiness,to  which, even  in  oc- 
casional and  transitory  glimpses,  she  had  long  been  a  stranger. 
Living  under  the  same  roof  with  the  beloved  brother  from 
whom  she  had  been  so  suddenly  and  hardly  separated, 
with  a  mind  at  ease  and  free  from  any  persecutions  which 
could  call  a  blush  into  her  cheek  or  a  pang  into  her  heart,  she 
seemed  to  have  passed  into  a  new  state  of  being.  Her  former 
cheerfulness  was  restored,  her  step  regained  its  elasticity  and 
lightness,  the  color  which  had  forsaken  her  cheek  visited  it 
once  again,  and  Kate  Nickleby  looked  more  beautiful  than 
ever. 

Such  was  the  result  to  which  Miss  La  Creevy's  rumina- 
tions and  observations  led  her,  when  the  cottage  had  been,  as 
she  emphatically  said,  "  thoroughly  got  to  rights,  from  the 
chimney-pots  to  the  street-door  scraper,"  and  the  busy  little 
woman  had  at  length  a  moment's  time  to  think  about  its  in- 
mates. 

"  Which  I  declare  I  haven't  had  since  I  first  came  down 
here,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy  ;  "for  1  have  thought  of  nothing 
but  hammers,  nails,  screw-drivers,  and  gimlets,  morning,  noon, 
and  night." 

"  You  never  bestow  one  thought  upon  yourself,  I  believe," 
returned  Kate,  smiling. 

"  Upon  my  word,  my  dear,  when  there  are  so  many  pleas- 
anter  things  to  think  of,  I  should  be  a  goose  if  I  did,"  said  Miss 
La  Creevy.  "  By  the  bye,  I  Iiavc  thought  of  somebody  too.  Uo 
you  know,  that  I  observe  a  great  change  in  one  of  this  family 
— a  very  extraordinary  change  ?  " 

"  In  whom  ?  "  asked  Kate,  anxiously.     "  Not  in — " 


484  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

"  Not  in  your  brother,  my  dear,"  returned  Miss  La  Creevy, 
anticipating  the  close  of  tlie  sentence,  "  for  he  is  always  the 
same  aifectionate  good-natured  clever  creature,  with  a  spice  of 
the — -I  won't  say  who — in  him  when  there's  any  occasion,  that 
he  was  when  I  first  knew  you.  No.  Smike,  as  he  w///  be 
called,  poor  fellow  !  for  he  won't  hear  of  a  Mr.  before  his 
name,  is  greatly  altered,  even  in  this  short  time. 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Kate.     "  Not  in  health  .?  " 

"N-n-o;  perhaps  not  in  health  exactly,"  said  Miss  La 
Creevy,  pausing  to  consider,  "  although  he  is  a  worn  and  fee- 
ble creature,  and  has  that  in  his  face  which  it  would  wring  my 
heart  to  see  in  yours.     No  ;  not  in  health." 

"  How  then  ?  " 

"  I  scarcely  know,"  said  the  miniature-painter.  "  But  I 
have  watched  him,  and  he  has  brought  the  tears  into  my  eyes 
many  times.  It  is  not  a  very  difficult  matter  to  do  that,  cer- 
tainly, for  I  am  easily  melted  ;  still  I  think  these  came  with 
good  cause  and  reason.  I  am  sure  that  since  he  has  been 
here,  he  has  grown,  for  some  strong  cause,  more  conscious  of 
his  weak  intellect.  He  feels  it  more.  It  gives  him  greater 
pain  to  know  that  he  wanders  sometimes,  and  cannot  under- 
stand very  simple  things.  I  ha\-e  watched  him  when  you  have 
not  been  by,  my  dear,  sit  brooding  by  himself,  with  such  a 
look  of  pain  as  I  could  scarcely  bear  to  see,  and  then  get  up 
and  leave  the  room  ;  so  sorrowfully,  and  in  such  dejection, 
that  I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  has  hurt  me.  Not  three  weeks 
ago,  he  was  a  light-hearted  busy  creature,  overjoyed  to  be  in 
a  bustle,  and  as  happy  as  the  day  was  long.  Now,  he  is 
another  being — the  same  willing,  harmless,  faithful,  loving 
creature — but  the  same  in  nothing  else." 

"  Surely  this  will  all  pass  off,"  said  Kate.    "  Poor  fellow  !  " 

"  I  hope,"  returned  her  little  friend,  with  a  gravity  very 
unusual  in  her,  "  it  may.  I  hope,  for  the  sake  of  that  poor  lad, 
it  may.  However,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy,  relapsing  into  the 
cheerful,  chattering  tone,  which  was  habitual  to  her,  "  I  have 
said  my  say,  and  a  very  long  say  it  is,  and  a  very  wrong  say 
too,  I  shouldn't  wonder  at  all.  I  shall  cheer  him  up  to-night, 
at  all  events,  for  if  he  is  to  be  my  squire  all  the  way  to  the 
Strand,  I  shall  talk  on,  and  on,  and  on,  and  ne\-er  leave  off, 
till  I  have  roused  him  into  a  laugh  at  something.  So  the 
sooner  he  goes  the  better  for  him,  and  the  sooner  I  go,  the 
better  for  me,  I  am  sure,  or  else  I  shall  have  my  maid  galli- 
vanting with  somebody  who  may  rob  the  house — though  what 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  485 

there  is  to  take  away,  besides  tables,  and  chairs,  I  don't 
know,  except  the  miniatures  :  and  he  is  a  clever  thief  who 
can  dispose  of  them  to  any  great  advantage,  for  /  can't,  1 
know,  and  that's  the  honest  truth." 

So  saying,  little  Miss  La  Creevy  hid  her  face  in  a  verj'  flat 
bonnet  and  herself  in  a  very  big  shawl  ;  and  fixing  herself 
tightly  into  the  latter,  by  means  of  a  large  pin,  declared  that 
the  omnibus  might  come  as  soon  as  it  pleased,  for  she  was 
quite  ready. 

But  there  was  still  Mrs.  Nickleby  to  take  leave  of ;  and 
long  before  that  good  lady  had  concluded  some  reminiscences, 
bearing  upon,  and  appropriate  to,  the  occasion,  the  omnibus 
arrived.  This  put  Miss  La  Creevy  in  a  great  bustle,  in  con- 
sequence whereof,  as  she  secretly  rewarded  the  servant-girl 
with  eighteen-pence  behind  the  street-door,  she  pulled  out  of 
her  reticule  ten-pennyworth  of  halfpence,  which  rolled  into  all 
possible  corners  of  the  passage,  and  occupied  some  consider- 
able time  in  the  picking-up.  This  ceremony,  had,  of  course, 
to  be  succeeded  by  a  second  kissing  of  Kate  and  Mrs.  Nick- 
leby, and  a  gathering  together  of  the  little  basket  and  the 
brown-paper  parcel,  during  which  proceedings,  "  the  omni- 
bus," as  Miss  La  Creevy  protested,  "  swore  so  dreadfully,  that 
it  was  quite  awful  to  hear  it."  At  length,  and  at  last,  it  made 
a  feint  of  going  away,  and  when  Miss  La  Creevy  darted  out 
and  darted  in,  apologizing  with  great  volubility  to  all  the  pas- 
sengers, and  declaring  that  she  wouldn't  purposely  have  kept 
them  waiting  on  any  account  whatever.  While  she  was  look- 
ing about  for  a  convenient  seat,  the  conductor  pushed  Smike 
in,  and  cried  that  it  was  all  right — though  it  wasn't — and  away 
went  the  huge  vehicle,  with  the  noise  of  half  a  dozen  brewers' 
drays  at  least. 

Leaving  it  to  pursue  its  journey  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
conductor  aforementioned,  who  lounged  gracefully  on  his  little 
shelf  behind,  smoking  an  odoriferous  cigar  ;  and  leaving  it  to 
stop,  or  go  on,  or  gallop,  or  crawl,  as  that  gendeman  deemed 
expedient  and  advisable  ;  this  narrative  may  embrace  the  oj)- 
portunity  of  ascertaining  the  condition  of  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk, 
and  to  what  extent,  he  had,  by  this  time,  recovered  from  the 
injuries  consequent  on  being  flung  violently  from  his  cabriolet, 
under  the  circumstances  already  detailed. 

With  a  shattered  limb,  a  body  severely  bruised,  a  face  dis- 
figured by  half-healed  scars,  and  pallid  from  the  exhaustion  of 
recent  pain  and  fever,  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  lay  stretched  upon 


486  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

his  back,  on  the  couch  to  which  he  was  doomed  to  be  a 
prisoner  for  some  weeks  yet  to  come.  Mr.  Pyke  and  Mr. 
Pluck  sat  drinking  hard  in  the  next  room,  now  and  then  vary- 
ing the  monotonous  murmurs  of  their  conversation  with  a 
half-smothered  laugh,  while  the  young  lord — the  only  member 
of  the  party  who  was  not  thoroughly  irredeemable,  and  who 
really  had  a  kind  heart — sat  beside  his  Mentor,  with  a  cigar 
in  his  mouth,  and  read  to  him,  by  the  light  of  a  lamp,  such 
scraps  of  intelligence  from  a  paper  of  the  day,  as  were  most 
Hkely  to  yield  him  interest  or  amusement. 

"  Curse  those  hounds  !  "  said  the  invalid,  turning  his  head 
impatiently  towards  the  adjoining  room  ;  "  will  nothing  stop 
their  infernal  throats  ?  " 

Messrs.  Pyke  and  Pluck  heard  the  exclamation,  and 
stopped  immediately,  winking  to  each  other  as  they  did  so, 
and  filling  their  glasses  to  the  brim,  as  some  recompense  for 
the  deprivation  of  speech. 

"  Damn  !  "  muttered  the  sick  man  between  his  teeth,  and 
writhing  impatiently  in  his  bed.  "  Isn't  this  mattress  hard 
enough,  and  the  room  dull  enough,  and  pain  bad  enough,  but 
they  must  torture  me  ?     What's  the  time  ?  " 

"  Half-past  eight,"  replied  his  friend. 

"  Here,  draw  the  table  nearer,  and  let  us  have  the  cards 
again,"  said  Sir  Mulberry.     "  More  piquet.     Come." 

It  was  curious  to  see  how  eagerly  the  sick  man,  debarred 
from  any  change  of  position  save  the  mere  turning  of  his  head 
from  side  to  side,  watched  every  motion  of  his  friend  in  the 
progress  of  the  game  ;  and  with  what  eagerness  and  interest 
he  played,  and  yet  how  warily  and  cooll)'.  His  address  and 
skill  were  more  than  twenty  times  a  match  for  his  adversary, 
who  could  make  little  head  against  them,  even  when  fortune 
favored  him  with  good  cards,  which  was  not  often  the  case. 
Sir  Mulberry  won  every  game  ;  and  when  his  companion  threw 
down  the  cards,  and  refused  to  play  any  longer,  thrust  forth 
his  wasted  arm  and  caught  up  the  stakes  with  a  boastful  oath, 
and  the  same  hoarse  laugh,  though  considerably  lowered  in 
tone,  that  had  resounded  in  Ralph  Nickleby's  dining-room, 
months  before. 

While  he  was  thus  occupied,  his  man  appeared,  to  an- 
nounce that  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby  was  below,  and  wished  to 
know  how  he  was  to-night. 

"  Better,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  impatiently. 

"  Mr.  Nickleby  wishes  to  know,  sir " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  487 

"  I  tell  you,  better,"  replied  Sir  Mulberry,  striking  his  hand 
upon  the  table. 

The  man  hesitated  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  said 
that  Mr.  Nickleby  had  requested  permision  to  see  Sir  Mul- 
berry Hawk,  if  it  was  not  inconvenient. 

"  It  is  inconvenient.  I  can't  see  him.  I  can't  see  any- 
body," said  his  master,  more  violently  than  before.  "You 
know  that,  you  blockhead." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  returned  the  man.  "  But  Mr. 
Nickleby  pressed  so  much,  sir " 

The  fact  was,  that  Ralph  Nickleby  had  bribed  the  man, 
who,  being  anxious  to  earn  his  money  with  a  view  to  future 
favors,  held  the  door  in  his  hand,  and  ventured  to  linger  still. 

"  Did  he  say  whether  he  had  any  business  to  speak 
about .'  "  inquired  Sir  Mulberry,  after  a  little  impatient  con- 
sideration. 

"  No,  sir.  He  said  he  wished  to  see  you,  sir.  Particularly 
Mr,  Nickleby  said,  sir." 

"  'J  ell  him  to  come  up.  Here  !  "  cried  Sir  Mulberr}-,  call- 
ing the  man  back,  as  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  disfigured 
face,  "  move  that  lamp,  and  put  it  on  the  stand  behind  me. 
Wheel  that  table  away,  and  place  a  chair  there — further  off. 
Leave  it  so." 

The  man  obeyed  these  directions  as  if  he  quite  compre- 
hended the  motive  with  which  they  were  dictated,  and  left  the 
room.  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  remarking  that  he  would 
look  in  presently,  strolled  into  the  adjoining  apartment,  and 
closed  the  folding-door  behind  him. 

Then  was  heard  a  subdued  footstep  on  the  stairs  ;  and 
Ralph  Nickleby,  hat  in  hand,  crept  softly  into  the  room,  with 
his  body  bent  forward  as  if  in  profound  respect,  and  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  face  of  his  worthy  client. 

"Well,  Nickleby,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  motioning  him  to 
the  chair  by  the  couch  side,  and  waving  his  hand  in  assumed 
carelessness,  "I  have  had  a  bad  accident,  you  see." 

"  I  see,"  rejoined  Ralph,  with  the  same  steady  gaze.  "  Bad, 
indeed  !  I  should  not  ha\e  known  you.  Sir  Mulberr)-.  Dear, 
dear!     That /V  bad." 

Ralph's  manner  was  one  of  profound  humility  and  respect, 
and  his  low  tone  of  voice  was  that  which  the  g-entlest  consid- 
eration  for  a  sick  man  would  have  taught  a  visitor  to  assume. 
But  the  expression  of  his  face.  Sir  Mulbern,^'s  being  averted, 
was  in  extraordinar}'  contrast.     And  as  he  stood,  in  his  usual 


488  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

attitude,  calmly  looking  on  the  prostrate  form  before  him,  all 
that  part  of  his  features  which  was  not  cast  into  shadow  by 
his  protrliding  and  contracted  brows,  bore  the  impress  of  a 
sarcastic  smile. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  turning  towards  him,  as 
though  by  a  violent  effort.  "  Am  I  a  sight,  that  you  stand 
gazing  there  ?  " 

As  he  turned  his  face,  Ralph  recoiled  a  step  or  two,  and 
making  as  though  he  were  irresistibly  impelled  to  express 
astonishment,  but  was  determined  not  to  do  so,  sat  down  with 
well-acted  confusion. 

"  I  have  inquired  at  the  door,  Sir  Mulberry,  every  day," 
said  Ralph,  "  twice  a  day,  indeed,  at  first — and  to-night,  pre- 
suming upon  old  acquaintance,  and  past  transactions  by  which 
we  have  mutually  benefited  in  some  degree,  I  could  not  re- 
sist soliciting  admission  to  your  chamber.  Have  you — have 
you  suffered  much  ? "  said  Ralph,  bending  forward,  and 
allowing  the  same  harsh  smile  to  gather  upon  his  face,  as  the 
other  closed  his  eyes. 

*'  More  than  enough  to  please  me,  and  less  than  enough 
to  please  some  broken  down  hacks  that  you  and  I  know  of, 
and  who  lay  their  ruin  between  us,  I  dare  say,"  returned  Sir 
Mulberry,  tossing  his  arm  restlessly  upon  the  coverlet.- 

Ralph  shrugged  his  shoulders  m  deprecation  of  the  in- 
tense irritation  with  which  this  had  been  said  ;  for  there  was 
an  aggravating,  cold  distinctness  in  his  speech  and  manner 
which  so  grated  on  the  sick  man  that  he  could  scarcely  en- 
dure it. 

"And  what  is  it  in  these  '  past  transactions,'  that  brought 
you  here  to-night  ?  '~  asked  Sir  Mulberry. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Ralph.  "  There  are  some  bills  of  my 
lord's  which  need  renewal  ;  but  let  them  be,  till  you  are  well. 
I — I — came,"  said  Ralph,  speaking  more  slowly,  and  with 
harsher  emphasis,  "  I  came  to  say  how  grieved  I  am  that  any 
relative  of  mine,  although  disowned  by  me,  should  have  in- 
flicted such  punishment  on  you  as " 

"  Punishment  !  "   interposed  Sir  Mulberry. 

"  I  know  it  has  been  a  severe  one,"  said  Ralph,  wilfully 
mistaking  the  meaning  of  the  interruption,  "and  that  has 
made  me  the  more  anxious  to  tell  you  that  I  disown  this  vaga- 
bond— that  I  acknowledge  him  as  no  kin  of  mine — and  that 
I  leave  him  to  take  his  deserts  from  you,  and  every  man  be- 
sides. You  may  wring  his  neck  if  you  please,  /shall  not 
interfere." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  489 

"  This  story  that  they  tell  me  here,  has  got  abroad  then,  has 
it  ?  "  asked  Sir  Mulberry,  clenching  his  hands  and  teeth. 

"  Noised  in  all  directions,"  replied  Ralph.  "  Eveiy  club 
and  gaming-room  has  rung  with  it.  There  has  been  a  good 
song  made  about  it,  as  I  am  told,"  said  Ralph,  looking  eagerly 
at  his  questioner.  "  I  have  not  heard  it  myself,  not  being  in 
the  way  of  such  things,  but  I  have  been  told  it's  even  printed 
— for  private  circulation — but  that's  all  over  town,  of  course." 

'•  It's  a  lie  !  "  said  Sir  Mulberry  ;  "I  tell  you  it's  all  a  lie. 
The  mare  took  fright." 

"  They  say  he  frightened  her,"  observed  Ralph,  in  the 
same  unmoved  and  quiet  manner.  "  Some  say  he  frightened 
you,  but  thafs  a  lie,  I  know.  I  have  said  that  boldly — oh,  a 
score  of  times  !  I  am  a  peaceable  man,  but  I  can't  hear  folks 
tell  that  of  you.     No,  no.". 

When  Sir  Mulberry  found  coherent  words  to  utter,  Ralph 
bent  forward  with  his  head  to  his  ear,  and  a  face  as  calm  as 
if  its  every  line  of  sternness  had  been  cast  in  iron. 

"  When  I  am  off  this  cursed  bed,"  said  the  invalid,  actu- 
ally striking  at  his  broken  leg  in  the  ecstasy  of  his  passion, 
"  I'll  have  such  revenge  as  never  man  had  yet.  By  G —  I 
will !  Accident  favoring  him,  he  has  marked  me  for  a  week 
or  two,-  but  I'll  put  a  mark  on  him  that  he  shall  carry  to  his 
grave.  I'll  slit  his  nose  and  ears,  flog  him,  maim  him  for 
life.  I'll  do  more  than  that;  I'll  drag  that  pattern  of  chas- 
tity, that  pink  of  prudery,  his  delicate  sister,  through " 

It  might  have  been  that  even  Ralph's  cold  blood  tingled 
in  his  cheeks  at  that  moment.  It  might  have  been  that  Sir 
Mulberry  remembered,  that,  knave  and  usurer  as  he  was, 
he  must,  in  some  early  time  of  infancy,  have  twined  his  arm 
about  her  father's  neck.  He  stopped,  and,  menacing  with  his 
hand,  confirmed  the  unuttered  threat  with  a  tremendous  oath. 

"  It  is  a  galling  thing,"  said  Ralph,  after  a  short  term  of 
silence,  during  which  he  had  eyed  the  sufferer  keenly,  "  to 
think  that  the  man  about  town,  the  rake,  the  roue,  the  rook  of 
twenty  seasons,  should  be  brought  to  this  pass  by  a  mere 
boy ! " 

Sir  Mulberry  darted  a  wrathful  look  at  him,  but  Ralph's 
eyes  were  bent  upon  the  ground,  and  his  face  wore  no  other 
expression  than  one  of  thoughtfulness. 

"  A  raw,  slight  stripling,"  continued  Ralph,  "  against  a 
man  whose  very  weight  might  crush  him  ;  to  say  nothing  of 
his  skill  in — I  am  right,  I  think,"  said  Ralph,  raising  his  eyes  : 
"you  were  a  patron  of  the  ring  once,  were  you  not  1  " 


^go  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

The  sick  man  made  an  impatient  gesture,  which  Ralph 
chose  to  consider  as  one  of  acquiescence. 

"  Ha  !  "  he  said,  "  I  thought  so.  That  was  before  I  knew 
you,  but  I  was  pretty  sure  I  couldn't  be  mistaken.  He  is 
light  and  active,  I  suppose.  But  those  were  slight  advantages 
compared  with  yours.  Luck,  luck  !  These  hangdog  outcasts 
have  it." 

"  He'll  need  the  most  he  has,  when  I  am  well  again,"  said 
Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  "  let  him  fly  where  he  will." 

"  Oh !  "  returned  Ralph  quickly,  "  he  doesn't  dream  of 
that.  He  is  here,  good  sir,  waiting  your  pleasure,  here  in 
London,  walking  the  streets  at  noonday,  carrying  it  off  jaun- 
tily, looking  for  you,  I  swear,"  said  Ralph,  his  face  darkening, 
and  his  own  hatred  getting  the  upper  hand  of  him,  for  the 
first  time,  as  this  gay  picture  of  Nicholas  presented  itself  ; 
"  if  we  were  only  citizens  of  a  country  where  it  could  be 
safely  done,  I'd  give  good  money  to  have  him  stabbed  to  the 
heart  and  rolled  into  the  kennel  for  the  dogs  to  tear." 

As  Ralph,  somewhat  to  the  surprise  of  his  old  client, 
vented  tins  little  piece  of  sound  family  Jggling,  and  took  up 
his  hat  preparatory  to  departing.  Lord  Fredrick  Verisopht 
looked  in. 

"  Why  what  in  the  dayvle's  name.  Hawk,  have  you  «and 
Nickleby  been  talking  about  ?  "  said  the  young  man.  "  I 
neyver  heard  such  an  insufferable  riot.  Croak,  croak,  croak. 
Bow,  wow,  wovi'.     What  has  it  all  been  about  ?  " 

"  Sir  Mulberry  has  been  angry,  my  Lord,"  said  Ralph, 
looking  towards  the  couch. 

"  Not  about  money,  I  hope  ?  Nothing  has  gone  wrong  in 
business,  has  it,  Nickleby  ?  " 

"  No,  my  Lord,  no,"  returned  Ralph.  "  On  that  point  we 
always  agree.  Sir  Mulberry  has  been  calling  to  mind  the 
cause  of " 

There  was  neither  necessity  nor  opportunity  for  Ralph  to 
proceed ;  for  Sir  Mulberry  took  up  the  theme,  and  vented  his 
threats  and  oaths  against  Nicholas,  almost  as  ferociously  as 
before. 

Ralph,  who  was  no  common  observer,  was  surprised  to 
see  that  as  this  tirade  proceeded,  the  manner  of  Lord  Freder- 
ick Verisopht,  who  at  the  commencement  had  been  twirling 
his  whiskers  with  a  most  dandified  and  listless  air,  underwent 
a  complete  alteration.  He  was  still  more  surprised  when, 
Sir  Mulberry   ceasing  to   speak,  the  young  lord   angrily,  and 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  491 

almost  unaffectedly,  requested  never  to  have  the  subject   re- 
newed in  his  presence. 

"  Mind  that,  Hawk  !  "  he  added,  with  unusual  energy.  "  I 
never  will  be  a  party  to,  or  permit,  if  1  can  help  it,  a  cowardly 
attack  upon  this  young  fellow." 

"  Cowardly  !  "  interrupted  his  friend. 

"  Yees,"  said  the  other,  turning  full  upon  him.  "  If  you 
had  told  him  who  you  were  ;  if  you  had  given  him  your  card, 
and  found  out.  afterwards,  that  his  station  or  character  pre- 
vented your  fighting  him,  it  would  have  been  bad  enough  then  ; 
upon  my  soul  it  would  have  been  bad  enough  then.  As  it  is, 
you  did  wrong.  I  did  wrong  too,  not  to  interfere,  and  I  am 
sorry  for  it.  "What  happened  to  you  afterwards,  was  as  much 
the  consequence  of  accident  as  design,  and  more  your  fault 
than  his  ;  and  it  shall  not,  with  my  knowledge,  be  cruelly 
visited  upon  him,  it  shall  not  indeed." 

With  this  emphatic  repetition  of  his  concluding  words,  the 
young  lord  turned  upon  his  heel  •  but  before  he  had  reached 
the  adjoining  room  he  turned  back  again,  and  said,  with  even 
greater  vehemence  than  he  had  displayed  before, 

"  I  do  believe,  now  ;  upon  my  honor  I  do  believe,  that  the 
sister  is  as  virtuous  and  modest  a  young  lady  as  she  is  a  hand- 
some one  ;  and  of  the  brother,  I  say  this,  that  he  acted  as  her 
brother  should,  and  in  a  manly  and  spirited  manner.  And  I 
only  wish,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  that  anyone  of  us  came 
out  of  this  matter  half  as  well  as  he  does." 

So  saying,  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht  walked  out  of  the 
room,  leaving  Ralph  Nickleby  and  Sir  Mulberry  in  most  un- 
pleasant astonishment. 

"  Is  this  your  pupil  ? "  asked  Ralph,  softly,  "  or  has  he 
come  fresh  from  some  country  parson  ?  " 

"  Green  fools  take  these  fits  sometimes,"  replied  Sir  Mul- 
berry Hawk,  biting  his  lip,  and  pointing  to  the  door.  "  Leave 
him  to  me." 

Ralph  exchanged  a  familiar  look  with  his  old  acquaintance  ; 
for  they  had  suddenly  grown  confidential  again  in  this  alarm- 
ing surprise  ;  and  took  his  way  home,  thoughtfully  and  slowly. 

While  these  things  were  being  said  and  done,  and  long 
before  they  were  concluded,  the  omnibus  had  disgorged  Miss 
La  Creevy  and  her  escort,  and  they  had  arrived  at  her  own 
door.  Now,  the  good-nature  of  the  little  miniature-painter 
would  bv  no  means  allow  of  Smike's  walking  back  again,  until 
he  had  been  previously  refreshed  with  just  a  sip  of  something 


V 


^g2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

comfortable,  and  a  mixed  biscuit  or  so  \  and  Smilce,  enter- 
taining no  objection  either  to  the  sip  of  something  comfort- 
able, or  the  mixed  biscuit,  but,  considering  on  the  contrary 
that  they  would  be  a  very  pleasant  preparation  for  a  walk  to 
Bow,  it  "fell  out  that  he  delayed  much  longer  than  he  originally 
intended,  and  that  it  was  some  half  hour  after  dusk  when  he 
set  forth  on  his  journey  home. 

There  was  no  likelihood  of  his  losing  his  way,  for  it  lay 
quite  straight  before  him,  and  he  had  walked  into  town  with 
Nicholas,  and  back  alone,  almost  every  day.  So,  Miss  La 
Creevy  and  he  shook  hands  with  mutual  confidence,  and,  being 
charged  with  more  kind  remembrances  to  Mrs.  and  Miss 
Nickleby,  Smike  started  off. 

At  the  foot  of  Ludgate  Hill,  he  turned  a  little  out  of  the 
road  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  by  having  a  look  at  Newgate. 
After  staring  up  at  the  sombre  walls,  from  the  opposite  side 
of  the  way,  with  great  care  and  dread  for  some  minutes,  he 
turned  back  again  into  the  old  track,  and  walked  briskly 
through  the  city ;  stopping  now  and  then  to  gaze  in  at  the 
window  of  some  particularly  attractive  shop,  then  running  for 
a  little  way,  then  stopping  again,  and  so  on,  as  any  other 
country  lad  might  do. 

He  had  been  gazing  for  a  long  time  through  a  jeweller's 
window,  wishing  he  could  take  some  of  the  beautiful  trinkets 
home  as  a  present,  and  imagining  what  delight  they  would  afford 
if  he  could,  when  the  clocks  struck  three-quarters  past  eight  ; 
roused  by  the  sound,  he  hurried  on  at  a  very  quick  pace,  and 
was  crossing  the  corner  of  a  by-street  when  he  felt  himself 
violently  brought  to,  with  a  jerk  so  sudden  that  he  was  obliged 
to  cling' to  a  lamp-post  to  save  himself  from  falling.  At  the 
same  moment,  a  small  boy  clung  tight  round  his  leg,  and  a  shrill 
cry. of  "  Here  he  is,  father  !     Hooray  !  "  vibrated  in  his  ears. 

Smike  knew  that  voice  too  well.  He  cast  his  despairing 
eyes  downward  towards  the  form  from  which  it  had  proceeded, 
and,  shuddering  from  head  to  foot,  looked  round.  Mr. 
Squeers  had  hooked  him  in  the  coat-collar  with  the  handle  of 
his  umbrella,  and  was  hanging  on  at  the  other  end  with  all  his 
might  and  main.  The  cry  of  triumph  proceeded  from  Master 
Wackford,  who,  regardless  of  all  his  kicks  and  struggles, 
clung  to  him  witJi  the  tenacity  of  a  bull-dog  ! 

One  glance  showed  him  this  ;  and  in  that  one  glance  the 
terrified  creature  became  utterly  powerless  and  unable  to  utter 
a  sound. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  4^3 

"Here's  a  go!"  cried  Mr.  Squeers,  gradually  coming 
hand-over-hand  down  the  umbrella,  and  only  unhooking  it 
when  he  had  got  tight  hold  of  the  victim's  collar.  "  Here's  a 
delicious  go  !    Wackford,  my  boy,  call  up  one  of  them  coaches." 

"  A  coach,  father  !  "  cried  little  Wackford. 

"  Yes,  a  coach,  sir,"  replied  Squeers,  feasting  his  eyes 
upon  the  countenance  of  Smike.  "  Damn  the  expense.  Let's 
have  him  in  a  coach." 

"  What's  he  been  a  doing  of  ?  "  asked  a  laborer  with  a  hod 
of  bricks,  against  whom  and  a  fellow-laborer  Mr.  Squeers  had 
backed,  on  the  first  jerk  of  the  umbrella. 

"  Everything  !  "  replied  Mr.  Squeers,  looking  fixedly  at 
his  old  pupil  in  a  sort  of  rapturous  trance.  "  Everything — 
running  away,  sir — joining  in  bloodthirsty  attacks  upon  his 
master — there's  nothing  that's  bad  that  he  hasn't  done.  Oh, 
what  a  delicious  go  is  this  here,  good  Lord  !  " 

The  man  looked  from  Squeers  to  Smike  ;  but  such  mental 
faculties  as  the  poor  fellow  possessed,  had  utterly  deserted 
him.  The  coach  came  up.  Master  Wackford  entered,  Squeers 
pushed  in  his  prize,  and,  following  close  at  his  heels,  pulled 
up  the  glasses.  The  coachman  mounted  his  box  and  drove 
slowly  off,  leaving  the  two  bricklayers,  and  an  old  apple- 
woman,  and  a  town-made  little  boy  returning  from  an  evening 
school,  who  had  been  the  only  witnesses  of  the  scene,  to 
meditate  upon  it  at  their  leisure. 

Mr.  Squeers  sat  himself  down  on  the  opposite  seat  to  the 
unfortunate  Smike,  and,  planting  his  hands  firmly  on  his 
knees,  looked  at  him  for  some  five  minutes,  when,  seeming  to 
recover  from  his  trance,  he  uttered  a  loud  laugh,  and  slapped 
his  old  pupil's  face  several  times — taking  the  right  and  left 
sides  alternately. 

"  It  isn't  a  dream  !  "  said  Squeers.  "  That's  real  flesh 
and  blood  !  I  know  the  feel  of  it !  "  And  being  quite  assured 
of  his  good  fortune  by  these  experiments,  Mr.  Squeers  admin- 
istered a  few  boxes  on  the  ear,  lest  the  entertainments  should 
seem  to  partake  of  sameness,  and  laughed  louder  and  longer 
at  every  one. 

"  Your  mother  will  be  fit  to  jump  out  of  her  skin,  my  boy, 
when  she  hears  of  this,"  said  Squeers  to  his  son. 

"  Oh,  won't  she  though,  father  } "  replied  Master  Wack- 
ford. 

"  To  think,"  said  Squeers,  "that  you  and  me  should  be 
turning  out  of  a  street,  and  come  upon  him  at  the  very  nick  ,• 


4^4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

and  that  I  should  have  hun  tight,  at  only  one  cast  of  the  um- 
brella, as  if  I  had  hooked  him  with  a  grappling-iron  !  Ha, 
ha!" 

"  Didn't  I  catch  hold  of  his  leg,  neither,  father  ?  "  said  lit- 
tle Wackford. 

"  You  did  ;  like  a  good  'un,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Squeers, 
patting  his  son's  head,  "  and  you  shall  have  the  best  button- 
over  jacket  and  waistcoat  that  the  next  new  boy  brings  down, 
as  a  reward  of  merit.  Mind  that.  You  always  keep  on  in 
the  same  path,  and  do  them  things  that  you  see  your  father 
do,  and  when  you  die  you'll  go  right  slap  to  Heaven  and  no 
questions  asked." 

Improving  the  occasion  in  these  words,  Mr.  Squeers  patted 
his  son's  head  again,  and  then  patted  Smike's — but  harder  \ 
and  inquired  in  a  bantering  tone  how  he  found  himself  by  this 
time  ? 

"  I  must  go  home,"  replied  Smike,  looking  wildly  round. 

"  To  be  sure  you  must.  You're  about  right  there,"  replied 
Mr.  Squeers.  "  You'll  go  home  very  soon,  you  will.  You'll 
find  yourself  at  the  peaceful  village  of  Dotheboys,  in  York- 
shire, in  something  under  a  week's  time,  my  young  friend ; 
and  the  next  time  you  get  away  from  there,  I  give  you  leave 
to  keep  away.  Where's  the  clothes  you  run  off  in,  you  un- 
grateful robber  ?  "  said  Mr.  Squeers,  in  a  severe  voice. 

Smike  glanced  at  the  neat  attire  which  the  care  of  Nich- 
olas had  provided  for  him,  and  wrung  his  hands. 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  could  hang  you  up,  outside  of  the 
Old  Bailey,  for  making  away  with  them  articles  of  property  t  " 
said  Squeers.  "  Do  you  know  that  it's  a  hanging  matter— 
and  I  an't  quite  certain  whether  it  an't  an  anatomy  one  besides 
— to  walk  off  with  up'ards  of  the  valley  of  five  pound  from  a 
dwelling-house  ?  Eh  ?  Do  you  know  that  ?  What  do  you 
suppose  was  the  worth  of  them  clothes  you  had  ?  Do  you 
know  that  that  Wellington-boot  you  wore,  cost  eight-and- 
tweuty  shillings  when  it  was  a  pair,  and  the  shoe  seven-and- 
six  ?  But  you  came  to  the  right  shop  for  mercy  when  you 
came  to  me,  and  thank  your  stars  that  it  is  me  as  has  got  to 
serve  you  with  the  article." 

Anybody  not  in  Mr.  Squeers's  confidence,  would  have 
supposed  that  he  was  quite  out  of  the  article  in  question,  in- 
stead of  having  a  large  stock  on  hand  ready  for  all  comers  ; 
nor  would  the  opinion  of  skeptical  persons  have  underp-one 
much  alteration  when  he  followed  up  the  remark  by  poking 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


495 


Smike  in  the  chest  with  the  ferrule  of  liis  umbrella,  and  deal- 
ing a  smart  shower  of  blows,  with  the  ribs  of  the  same  instru- 
ment, upon  his  head  and  shoulders. 

"  I  never  threshed  a  boy  in  a  hackney-coach  before,"  said 
Mr.  Squeers,  when  he  stopped  to  rest.  "  There's  inconve- 
niency  in  it,  but  the  novelty  gives  it  a  sort  of  relish,  too  !  " 

Poor  Smike !  He  warded  off  the  blows,  as  well  as  he 
could,  and  now  shrunk  into  a  corner  of  the  coach,  with  his 
head  resting  on  his  hands,  and  his  elbows  on  his  knees  ;  he 
was  stunned  and  stupefied,  and  had  no  more  idea  that  any 
act  of  his  would  enable  him  to  escape  from  the  all-powerful 
Squeers,  now  that  he  had  no  friend  to  speak  to  or  to  advise 
with,  than  he  had  had  in  all  the  weary  years  of  his  Yorkshire 
life  which  preceded  the  arrival  of  Nicholas. 

The  journey  seemed  endless  ;  street  after  street  was  en- 
tered and  left  behind  ;  and  still  they  went  jolting  on.  At  last 
]\Ir.  Squeers  began  to  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  window  every 
half-minute,  and  to  bawl  a  variety  of  directions  to  the  coach- 
man ;  and  after  passing,  with  some  ditificulty,  through  several 
mean  streets  which  the  appearance  of  the  houses  and  the  bad 
state  of  the  road  denoted  to  have  been  recently  built,  Mr. 
Squeers  suddenly  tugged  at  the  check  string  with  all  his 
might,  and  cried,  "  Stop  !  " 

"  What  are  you  pulling  a  man's  arm  off  for?"  said  the 
coachman,  looking  angrily  down. 

"  That's  the  house,"  replied  Squeers.  "  The  second  of 
them  four  little  houses,  one  story  high,  with  the  green  shutters. 
There's  a  brass  plate  on  the  door,  with  the  name  of  Snawley." 

"  Couldn't  you  say  that,  without  wrenching  a  man's  limbs 
off  his  body  .''  "  inquired  the  coachman. 

"No!"  bawled  Mr.  Squeers.  "Say  another  word,  and 
I'll  summons  you  for  having  a  broken  winder.     Stop !  " 

Obedient  to  this  direction,  the  coach  stopped  at  Mr.  Snaw- 
ley's  door.  Mr.  Snawley  may  be  remembered  as  the  sleek 
and  sanctified  gentleman  who  confided  two  sons  (in  law)  to 
the  parental  care  of  Mr.  Squeers,  as  narrated  in  the  fourth 
chapter  of  this  histor}'.  Mr.  Snawley's  house  was  on  the  ex- 
treme borders  of  some  new  settlements  adjoining  Somers 
Town,  and  Mr.  Squeers  had  taken  lodging  therein  for  a  short 
time,  as  his  stay  was  longer  than  usual,  and  as  the  Saracen, 
having  experience  of  Master  Wackford's  appetite,  had  de- 
clined to  receive  him  on  any  other  terms  than  as  a  full-grown 
customer. 


^gC  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  Here  we  are  !  "  said  Squeers,  hurrying  Smike  into  the 
little  parlor,  where  Mr.  Snawley  and  his  wife  were  taking  a 
lobster  supper.  "  Here's  the  vagrant — the  felon — the  rebel — 
the  monster  of  unthankfulness." 

"  What  !  The  boy  that  run  away  !  "  cried  Snawley,  resting 
his  knife  and  fork  upright  on  the  table,  and  opening  his  eyes 
to  their  full  width. 

"  The  very  boy,"  said  Squeers,  putting  his  fist  close  to 
Smike's  nose,  and  drawing  it  away  again,  and  repeating 
the  process  several  times,  with   a  vicious  aspect.     "  If  there 

wasn't  a  lady  present,  I'd  fetch  him  such  a :  never  mind, 

I'll  owe  it  him." 

And  here  Mr.  Squeers  related  how,  and  in  what  manner, 
and  when  and  where,  he  had  picked  up  the  runaway. 

"  It's  clear  that  there  has  been  a  providence  in  it,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Snawley,  casting  down  his  eyes  with  an  air  of  humility, 
and  elevating  his  fork,  with  a  bit  of  lobster  on  the  top  of  it, 
towards  the  ceiling. 

"  Providence  is  again  him,  no  doubt,"  replied  Mr.  Squeers, 
scratching  his  nose.  "  Of  course  ;  that  was  to  be  expected. 
Anybody  might  have  known  that." 

"  Hard-heartedness  and  evil-doing  will  never  prosper,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Snawley. 

"  Never  was  such  a  thing  known,"  rejoined  Squeers,  taking 
a  little  roll  of  notes  from  his  pocket-book,  to  see  that  they 
were  all  safe. 

"  I  have  been,  Mrs.  Snawley,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  when  he 
had  satisfied  himself  upon  this  point,  "  I  have  been  that  chap's 
benefactor,  feeder,  teacher,  and  clother.  I  have  been  that 
chap's  classical,  commercial,  mathematical,  philosophical,  and 
trigonomical  friend.  My  son — my  only  son,  Wackford — has 
been  his  brother.  Mrs.  Squeers  has  been  his  mother,  grand- 
mother, aunt, — Ah  !  and  I  may  say  uncle  too,  all  in  one.  She 
never  cottoned  to  anybody,  except  them  two  engaging  and 
delightful  boys  of  yours,  as  she  cottoned  to  this  chap.  What's 
my  return  ?  What's  come  of  my  milk  of  human  kindness  ?  It 
turns  into  curds  and  whey  when  I  look  at  him." 

"Well  it  may,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Snawley.  "Oh!  Well  it 
may,  sir," 

"  Where  has  he  been  all  this  time  ?  "  inquired  Snawley. 
"  Has  he  been  living  with ?  " 

"  Ah,  sir  !  "  interposed  Squeers,  confronting  him  again. 
"  Have  you  been  a  living  with  that  there  devilish  Nickleby, 
sir  ?  " 


O  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  49 y 

But  no  threats  or  cuffs  could  elicit  from  Smike  one  word 
of  reply  to  this  question  ;  for  he  had  internally  resolved  that 
he  would  rather  perish  in  the  wretched  prison  to  which  he  was 
again  about  to  be  consigned,  than  utter  one  syllable  which 
could  involve  his  first  and  true  friend.  He  had  already  called 
to  mind  the  strict  injunctions  of  secrecy  as  to  his  past  life, 
which  Nicholas  had  laid  upon  him  when  they  travelled  from 
Yorkshire  ;  and  a  confused  and  perplexed  idea  that  his  bene- 
factor might  have  committed  some  terrible  crime  in  bringing 
him  away,  which  would  render  him  liable  to  heavy  punish- 
ment if  detected,  had  contributed  in  some  degree  to  reduce 
him  to  his  present  state  of  apathy  and  terror. 

Such  were  the  thoughts — if  to  visions  so  imperfect  and 
undefined  as  those  which  wandered  through  his  enfeebled 
brain,  the  term  can  be  applied — which  were  present  to  the 
mind  of  Smike,  and  rendered  him  deaf  alike  to  intimidation 
and  persuasion.  Finding  every  effort  useless,  Mr.  Squeers 
conducted  him  to  a  little  back  room  up  stairs,  where  he  was 
to  pass  the  night.  Taking  the  precaution  of  removing  his 
shoes,  and  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  also  of  locking  the  door 
on  the  outside,  lest  he  should  muster  up  sufficient  energy  to 
make  an  attempt  at  escape,  that  worthy  gentleman  left  him  to 
his  meditations. 

What  those  meditations  were,  and  how  the  poor  creature's 
heart  sank  within  him  when  he  thought — when  did  he,  for  a 
moment,  cease  to  think  !— of  his  late  home,  and  the  dear 
friends  and  familiar  faces  with  which  it  was  associated,  cannot 
be  told.  To  prepare  the  mind  for  such  a  heavy  sleep,  its 
growth  must  be  stopped  by  rigor  and  cruelty  in  childhood  ; 
there  must  be  years  of  misery  and  suffering  lightened  by  no 
ray  of  hope  ;  the  chords  of  the  heart,  which  beat  a  quick  re- 
sponse to  the  voice  of  gentleness  and  affection,  must  have 
rusted  and  broken  in  their  secret  places,  and  bear  the  linger- 
ing echo  of  no  old  word  of  love  or  kindness.  Gloomy,  indeed, 
must  have  been  the  short  day,  and  dull  the  longHong'Twiright, 
preceding  such  a  niidit  of  intellect  as  his. 

Tlicre  were  xoiees  wliich  would  have  roused  him,  even 
then  ;  but  their  welcome  tones  could  not  penetrate  there  ;  and 
he  crept  to  bed  the  same  listless,  hopeless,  blighted  creature, 
that  Nicholas  had  first  found  him  at  the  Yorkshire  school. 

32 


498  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

IN    WHICH    ANOTHER    OLD     FRIEND     ENCOUNTERS    SMIKE,    VERY 
OPPORTUNELY    AND    TO    SOME    PURPOSE. 

The  night,  fraught  with  so  much  bitterness  to  one  poor 
soul,  had  given  place  to  a  bright  and  cloudless  summer  morn- 
ing, when  a  north-country  mail-coach  traversed,  with  cheerful 
noise,  the  yet  silent  streets  of  Islington,  and  giving  brisk  note 
of  its  approach  with  the  lively  winding  of  the  guard's  horn, 
clattered  onward  to  its  halting-place  hard  by  the  Post-office. 

The  only  outside  passenger  was  a  burly,  honest-looking 
countryman  on  the  box,  who,  with  his  e}-es  fixed  upon  the 
dome  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  appeared  so  wrapt  in  admiring 
wonder,  as  to  be  quite  insensible  to  all  the  bustle  of  getting 
out  the  bags  and  parcels,  until  one  of  the  coach  windows  be- 
ing let  sharply  down,  he  looked  round,  and  encountered  a 
pretty  female  face  w-hich  was  just  then  thrust  out. 

"  See  there,  lass !  "  bawled  the  countryman,  pointing  to- 
wards the  object  of  his  admiration.  "  There  be  Paul's  Church. 
'Ecod,  he  be  a  soizable  'un,  he  be." 

"  Goodness,  John !  I  shouldn't  have  thought  it  could 
have  been  half  the  size.     What  a  monster  !  " 

"  Monsther ! — Ye're  aboot  right  theer,  I  reckon,  Mrs. 
Browdie,"  said  the  countryman  good-humoredly,  as  he  came 
slowly  down  in  his  huge  top-coat,  "  and  wa'at  dost  thee  tak 
yon  place  to  be  noo — thot  'un  ower  the  wa'.  Ye'd  never  coom 
near  it  'gin  ye  thried  for  a  tvvolve  moonths.  It's  na'  but  a 
Poast-office  !  Ho  !  ho  !  They  need  to  charge  for  dooblc- 
lattkers.  A  Poast-office !  Wa'at  dost  thee  think  o'  thot  ? 
'Ecod,  if  thot's  on'y  a  Poast-office,  I'd  loike  to  see  where  the 
Lord  Mayor  o'  Lunnun  lives." 

So  saying,  John  Ilrowdie — for  he  it  was — opened  the  coach- 
door,  and  tapping  Mrs.  Browdie,  late  Miss  Price,  on  the  cheek 
as  he  looked  in,  burst  into  a  boisterous  fit  of  laughter. 

"  Weel !  "  said  John.  "Dang  my  bootuns  if  she  bean't 
asleep  agean  !  " 

"  She's  been  asleep  all  night,  and  was,  all  yesterday,  ex- 
cept for  a  minute  or    two  now  and  then,"  replied  John  Brow- 


NICHOLAS  A'rCKLEBY.  4^^ 

die's  choice,  "  and  I  was  very  sorry  when  she  woke,  for  she 
has  been  so  cross." 

The  subject  of  these  remarks  was  a  slumbering  figure,  so 
mufifled  in  shawl  and  cloak,  that  it  would  have  been  matter  of 
impossibility  to  guess  at  its  sex  but  for  a  brown-beaver  bonnet 
and  green  veil  which  ornamented  the  head,  and  which,  having 
been  crushed  and  flattened  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  in 
that  particular  angle  of  the  vehicle  from  which  the  lady's 
snores  now  proceeded,  presented  an  appearance  sufficiently 
ludicrous  to  have  moved  less  risible  muscles  than  those  of 
John  Browdie's  ruddy  face. 

"  Hollo !  "  cried  John,  twitching  one  end  of  the  dragged 
veil.     "  Coom,  wakken  oop,  will  'ee." 

After  several  burrowings  into  the  old  corner,  and  many  ex- 
clamations of  impatience  and  fatigue,  the  figure  struggled  into 
a  sitting  posture  ;  and  there,  under  a  mass  of  crumpled  beaver, 
and  surrounded  by  a  semicircle  of  blue  curl-papers,  were  the 
delicate  features  of  Miss  Fanny  Squeers. 

"  Oh,  'Tilda  !  "  cried  Miss  Squeers,  "  How  you  have  been 
kicking  of  me  through  this  blessed  night !  " 

"  Well,  1  do  like  that,"  replied  her  friend,  laughing, 
"  when  you  have  had  nearly  the  whole  coach  to  yourself." 

"  Don't  deny  it,  'Tilda,"  said  Miss  Squeers,  impressively, 
"  because  you  have,  and  it's  no  use  to  go  attempting  to  say 
you  haven't.  You  mightn't  ha\'e  known  it  in  your  sleep, 
'Tilda,  but  I  haven't  closed  my  eyes  for  a  single  wink,  and  so 
I  think  I  am  to  be  believed." 

With  which  reply,  Miss  Squeers  adjusted  the  bonnet  and 
veil,  which  nothing  but  supernatural  interference  and  an  utter 
suspension  of  nature's  laws  could  have  reduced  to  any  shape 
or  form ;  and  evidently  flattering  herself  that  it  looked  un- 
commonly tieat,  brushed  off  the  sandwich-crumbs  and  bits  of 
biscuit  which  had  accumulated  in  her  lap,  and  availing  herself 
of  John   Browdie's  proffered  arm,  descended  from  the  coach. 

"  Noo,"  said  John,  when  a  hackney-coach  had  been  called 
and  the  ladies  and  the  luggage  hurried  in,  "  gang  to  the 
Sarah's  Head,  mun." 

"  To  the  vercV  cried  the  coachman. 

"  Lawk,  Mr.  Browdie  !  "  interrupted  Miss  Squeers.  "  The 
idea  !     Saracen's  Head." 

"  Sure-ly,"  said  John,  "I  know'd  it  was  something  aboot 
Sarah's  Son's  Head.     Dost  thou  know  thot .''  " 

"Oh,  ah!  I  know  that,"  replied  the  coachman  gruffly,,  as 
he  banc:ed  the  door. 


500 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  'Tilda,  dear,  really,"  remonstrated  Miss  Squeers,  "  we 
shall  be  taken  for  I  don't  know  what." 

"  Let  them  tak'  us  as  they  foind  us,"  said  John  Browdie  ; 
"  we  dean't  come  to  Lunnun  to  do  nought  but  'joy  oursel,  do 
we?" 

"  I  hope  not,  Mr.  Browdie,"  replied  Miss  Squeers,  looking 
singularly  dismal. 

"Well,  then,"  said  John,  "it's  no  matther.  I've  only 
been  a  married  man  fower  days,  'account  of  poor  old  feyther 
deein'  and  puttin'  it  off.  Here  be  a  weddin'  party — broide 
and  broide'smaid,  and  the  groom — if  a  mun  dean't  'joy  himself 
noo,  when  ought  he,  hey  ?  Drat  it  all,  tliot's  what  I  want  to 
know." 

So,  in  order  that  he  might  begin  to  enjoy  himself  at  once, 
and  lose  no  time,  Mr.  Browdie  gave  his  wife  a  hearty  kiss, 
and  succeeded  in  wresting  another  from  Miss  Squeers,  after  a 
maidenly  resistance  of  scratching  and  struggling  on  the  part 
of  that  young  lady,  which  was  not  quite  over  when  they  reached 
the  Saracen's  Head. 

Here  the  party  straightway  retired  to  rest ;  the  refreshment 
of  sleep  being  necessary  after  so  long  a  journey  ;  and  here 
they  met  again  about  noon,  to  a  substantial  breakfast,  spread 
by  direction  of  Mr.  John  Browdie,  in  a  small  private  room  up 
stairs  commanding  an  uninterrupted  view  of  the  stables. 

To  have  seen  Miss  Squeers  now,  divested  of  the  brown 
beaver,  the  green  veil,  and  the  blue  curl-papers,  and  arrayed 
in  all  the  virgin  splendor  of  a  white  frock  and  spencer,  with  a 
white  muslin  bonnet,  and  an  imitative  damask  rose  in  full 
bloom  on  the  inside  thereof — her  luxuriant  crop  of  hair  ar- 
ranged in  curls  so  tight  that  it  was  impossible  they  could  come 
out  by  any  accident,  and  her  bonnet-cap  trimmed  with  little  dam- 
ask roses,  which  might  be  supposed  to  be  so  many  promising 
scions  of  the  big  rose — to  have  seen  all  this,  and  to  have  seen 
the  broad  damask  belt,  matching  both  the  family  rose  and 
the  little  roses,  which  encircled  her  slender  waist,  and  by  a 
happy  ingenuity  took  off  from  the  shortness  of  the  spencer  be- 
hind,— to  have  beheld  all  this,  and  to  have  taken  further  into 
account  the  coral  bracelets  (rather  short  of  beads,  and  w^ith  a 
very  visible  black  string)  which  clasped  her  wrists,  and  the 
coral  necklace  which  rested  on  her  neck,  supporting,  outside 
her  frock  a  lonely  cornelian  heart,  typical  of  her  own  disen- 
gaged affections — to  have  contemplated  all  these  mute  but  ex- 
pressive appeals  to  the  purest  feelings  of  our  nature,  might 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  eoi 

have  thawed  the  frost  of  a^e,  and  added  new  and  inextinguish- 
able fuel  to  the  fire  of  youth. 

The  waiter  was  touched.  Waiter  as  he  was,  he  had  human 
passions  and  feelings,  and  he  looked  very  hard  at  Miss  Squeers 
as  he  handed  the  muffins. 

"  Is  my  pa  in,  do  you  know  1 "  asked  Miss  Squeers  with 
dignity. 

"  Beg  your  pardon.  Miss.'  " 

"  My  pa,"  repeated  Miss  Squeers  ;  "  is. he  in  .?  " 

"  In  where.  Miss  ?" 

"  In  here — in  the  house  !  "  replied  Miss  Squeers.  "  My 
pa — Mr.  Wackford  Squeers — he's  stopping  here.  Is  he  at 
home  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  there  was  any  gen'l'man  of  that  name  in 
the  house  Miss,"  replied  the  waiter.  "There  maybe  in  the 
coffee-room." 

A/ajy  be.  Very  pretty  this,  indeed !  Here  was  Miss 
Squeers,  who  had  been  depending,  all  the  way  to  London, 
upon  showing  her  friends  how  much  at  home  she  would  be, 
and  how  much  respectful  notice  her  name  and  connections 
would  e.xcite,  told  that  her  father  tnight  be  there  !  "  As  if  he 
was  a  feller  !  "  observed  Miss  Squeers,  with  emphatic  indig- 
nation. 

"  Ye'd  betther  inquire  mun,"  said  John  Browdie.  "  An' 
bond  up  another  pigeon-pie,  will  'ee  ?  "Dang  the  chap,"  mut- 
tered John,  looking  into  the  empty  dish  as  the  waiter  retired; 
"  Does  he  ca'  this  a  pie — three  young  pigeons  and  a  troifling 
matther  o'  steak,  and  a  crust  so  loight  that  you  doant  know 
when  it's  in  your  mooth  and  when  it's  gane  ?  I  wonder  hoo 
many  pies  goes  to  a  breakfast !  " 

Altera  short  interval,  which  John  Browdie  employed  upon 
the  ham  and  a  cold  round  of  beef,  the  waiter  returned  with 
another  pie,  and  the  information  that  Mr.  Squeers  was  not 
stopping  in  the  house,  but  that  he  came  there  every  day,  and 
that  when  he  arrived,  he  should  be  shown  up  stairs.  With 
this  he  retired  ;  and  he  had  not  retired  two  minutes,  when  he  re- 
turned with  Mr.  Squeers  and  his  hopeful  son. 

"  Why,  who'd  have  thought  of  this .?  "  said  Mr.  Squeers, 
when  he  had  saluted  the  party,  and  received  some  private 
family  intelligence  from  his  daughter. 

"  Who,  indeed,  pa  !  "  replied  that  young  lady,  spitefully, 
"But  you  see  'Tilda  is  married  at  last." 

"  And  I  stond  threat  for  a  soight  o'  Lunnun,  school* 
rneasther,"  said  John  vigorously  attacking  the  pie. 


2  02  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  \. 

"  One  of  them  things  that  young  men  do  when  they  ger 
married,"  returned  Squeers,  "  and  as  runs  through  with  their 
money  like  nothing  at  all !  How  much  better  wouldn't  it  be 
now,  to  save  it  up  for  the  eddication  of  any  little  boys,  for  in- 
stance. They  come  on  you,"  said  Mr.  Squeers  in  a  moral- 
izing way,  "  Before  you're  aware  of  it ;  mine  did  upon  me." 

"  Will'ee  pick  a  bit  ?  "  said  John. 

"  I  won't  myself,"  returned  Squeers  ;  "  but  if  you'll  just 
let  little  Wackford  tuck  into  something  fat,  I'll  be  obliged  to 
you.  Give  it  him  in  his  fingers,  else  the  waiter  charges  it  on, 
and  there's  lot  of  profit  on  this  sort  of  vittles  without  that.  If 
you  hear  the  waiter,  coming,  sir,  shove  it  in  your  pocket  and 
look  out  of  the  window,  d'ye  hear  ?  " 

"  I'm  awake,  father,"  replied  the  dutiful  Wackford. 

"  Well,"  said  Squeers,  turning  to  his  daughter,  "  it's  your 
turn  to  be  married  next.     You  must  make  haste." 

"  Oh,  I'm  in  no  hurry,"  said  Miss  Squeers  very  sharply. 

"  No,  Fanny  ?  "  cried  her  old  friend  with  some  archness. 

"  No,  'Tilda,  replied  Miss  Squeers,  shaking  her  head  vehe- 
mently.    "  /  can  wait." 

"  So  can  the  young  men,  it  seems,  Fanny,"  observed  Mrs. 
Browdie. 

"  They  an't  draw'd  into  it  by  7tie,  'Tilda,"  retorted  Miss 
Squeers. 

"  No,"  returned  her  friend  ;  "  That's  exceedingly  true." 

The  sarcastic  tone  of  this  reply  might  have  provoked  a 
rather  acrimonious  retort  from  Miss  Squeers,  who,  besides  be- 
ing of  a  constitutionally  vicious  temper — aggravated,  just  now, 
by  travel  and  recent  jolting — was  somewhat  irritated  by  old 
recollections  and  the  failure  of  her  own  designs  upon  Mr. 
Browdie.  And  the  acrimonious  retort  might  have  led  to  a  great 
many  other  retorts,  which  might  have  led  to  Heaven  knows 
what,  if  the  subject  of  conversation  had  not  been,  at  that  pre- 
cise moment,  accidentally  changed  by  Mr.  Squeers  himself. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  said  that  gentleman  ;  "  who  do  you 
suppose  we  have  laid  hands  on,  Wackford  and  me  ? " 

"  Pa  !  not   Mr. .?  "    Miss  Squeers  was  unable  to  finish 

the   sentence,   but  Mrs.    Browdie   did   it  for  her,   and  added 
"Nickleby?" 

"No,"  said  Squeers.     "But  next  door  to  him  though." 

"  You  can't  mean  Smike  ?  "  cried  Miss  Squeers,  clapping 
her  hands. 

"Yes,  I  can  though,  "  rejoined  her  father.  "  I've  got  him, 
hard  and  fast." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


503 


"  Wa'at !  '■'  exclaimed  John  Browdie,  pushing  away  his 
plate.     "  Got  that  poor — dom'd  scoondrel  ?     Where  ?  " 

"Why,  in  the  top  back  room,  at  my  lodging,"  with  him  on 
one  side,  and  the  key  on  the  other." 

"  At  thy  loodgin' !  Thee'st  gotten  him  at  thy  loddgin'  ?  Ho  ! 
ho  !  The  schoolmeasther  agin  all  England  !  Give  us  thee  hond 
mun ;  I'm  darned  but  I  must  shak  thee  by  the  hond  for  thot. 
— Gotten  him  at  thy  loodgin'  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Squeers,  staggering  in  his  chair  under  the 
congratulatory  blow  on  the  chest  which  the  stout  Yorkshire 
man  dealt  him  ;  "thankee.  Don't  do  it  again.  You  mean  it 
kindly,  I  know,  but  it  hurts  rather.  Yes,  there  he  is.  That's 
not  s"o  bad,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Ba'ad  !  "  repeated  John  Browdie.  "  It's  eneaf  to  scare  a 
mun  to  hear  tell  on." 

"  I  thought  it  would  surprise  you  a  bit,"  said  Squeers, 
rubbing  his  hands.  "  It  was  pretty  neatly  done,  and  pretty 
quick  too." 

"  Hoo  wor  it  ?  "  inquired  John,  sitting  down  close  to  him, 
"  Tell  us  all  aboot  it,  mun  ;  coom,  quick." 

Although  he  could  not  keep  pace  with  John  Browdie's  im- 
patience, Mr.  Squeers  related  the  luck}^  chance  by  which  Smike 
had  fallen  into  his  hands,  as  quickly  as  he  could,  and,  except 
when  he  was  interrupted  by  the  admiring  remarks  of  his  audi- 
tors, paused  not  in  the  recital  until  he  had  brought  it  to  an 
end. 

"  For  fear  he  should  give  me  the  slip,  by  any  chance,"  ob- 
served Squeers,  when  he  had  finished,  looking  very  cunning, 
"  I've  taken  three  outsides  for  to-morrow  morning — for  Wack- 
ford  and  him  and  me — and  have  arranged  to  leave  the  ac- 
counts and  the  new  boys  to  the  agent,  don't  you  see  ?  So,  it's 
very  lucky  you  came  to-day,  or  you'd  have  missed  us  ;  as  it  is, 
unless  you  could  come  and  tea  with  me  to-night,  we  shan't 
see  anything  more  of  you  before  we  go  away." 

"  Dean't  say  anoother  wurd,"  returned  the  Yorkshireman, 
shaking  him  by  the  hand.  " We'd  coom,  if  it  was  twonty 
mile." 

"  No,  would  you  though  ?  "  returned  Mr.  Squeers,  who  had 
not  expected  quite  such  a  ready  acceptance  of  his  invitation, 
or  he  would  have  considered  twice  before  he  gave  it. 

John  Browdie's  only  reply  was  another  squeeze  of  the 
hand,  and  an  assurance  that  they  w^ould  not  begin  to  see  Lon- 
don till  to-morrow,  so  that  they  might  be  at  Mr.  Snawley's  at 


^ 04  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

six  o'clock  without  fail.      After  some  further  conversation, 
Mr.  Squeers  and  his  son  departed. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  day,  Mr.  Browdie  was  in  a 
very  odd  and  excitable  state  ;  bursting  occasionally  into  an 
explosion  of  laughter,  and  then  taking  up  his  hat,  and  running 
into  the  coach-yard  to  have  it  out  by  himself.  He  was  very 
restless  too,  constantly  walking  in  and  out,  and  snapping  his 
fingers,  and  dancing  scraps  of  uncouth  country  dances,  and, 
in  short,  conducting  himself  in  such  a  very  extraordinary  man- 
ner, that  Miss  Squeers  opined  he  was  going  mad,  and,  begging 
her  dear  'Tilda  not  to  distress  herself,  communicated  her  sus- 
picions in  so  many  words.  Mrs.  Browdie,  however,  without 
discovering  any  great  alarm,  observed  that  she  had  seen  him 
so,  once  before,  and  that  although  he  was  almost  sure  to  be 
ill  after  it,  it  would  not  be  anything  very  serious,  and  there- 
fore he  was  better  left  alone. 

The  result  proved  to  be  perfectly  correct ;  for,  while  they 
were  all  sitting  in  Mr.  Snawley's  parlor  that  night,  and  just  as 
it  was  beginning  to  get  dusk,  John  Browdie  was  taken  so  ill, 
and  seized  with  such  an  alarming  dizziness  in  the  head,  that 
the  whole  company  were  thrown  into  the  utmost  consternation. 
His  good  lady,  indeed,  was  the  only  person  present  who  retained 
presence  of  mind  enough  to  observe  that  if  he  were  allowed  to 
lie  down  on  Mr.  Squeers's  bed  for  an  hour  or  so,  andwere 
left  entirely  to  himself,  he  would  be  sure  to  recover  again  al- 
most as  quickly  as  he  had  been  taken  ill.  Nobody  could 
refuse  to  try  the  effect  of  so  reasonable  a  proposal,  before 
sending  for  a  surgeon.  Accordingly,  John  was  supported  up 
stairs,  with  great  difficulty  (being  a  monstrous  weight,  and  reg- 
ularly tumbling  down  two  steps  eveiy  time  they  hoisted  him 
up  three),  and,  being  laid  on  the  bed,  was  left  in  charge  of 
his  wife,  who  after  a  short  interval  re-appeared  in  the  parlor, 
with  the  gratifying  intelligence  that  he  had  fallen  fast  asleep. 

Now,  the  fact  was,  that  at  that  particular  moment,  John 
Browdie  was  sitting  on  the  bed,  with  the  reddest  face  ever 
seen,  cramming  the  corner  of  the  pillow  into  his  mouth,  to 
prevent  his  roaring  out  loud  with  laughter.  He  had  no  sooner 
succeeded  in  suppressing  this  emotion,  than  he  slipped  off  his 
shoes,  and,  creeping  to  the  adjoining  room  where  the  prisoner 
was  confined,  turned  the  key,  which  was  on  the  outside,  and 
darting  in,  covered  Smike's  mouth  with  his  huge  hand  before 
he  could  utter  a  sound. 

"  Ods-bobs,  dost  thee  not  know  me,  mun .?  "  whispered  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  K  505 

Yorkshireman  to  the  bewildered  lad.  "  Browdie.  Chap  as 
met  thee  efther  schoolmeasther  was  banged  ?  " 
"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Smike.  "  Oh  !  help  me." 
"  Help  thee  !  "  replied  John,  stopping  his  mouth  again  the 
instant  he  had  said  thus  much.  "  Thee  didn't  need  help,^  if 
thee  warn't  as  silly  yoongster  as  ever  draw'd  breath.  Wa'at 
did  'ee  come  here  for,  then  ?  " 

"  He  brought  me  ;  oh  !  he  brought  me,"  cried  Smike. 
"  Brout  thee  !  "  replied  John.  "  Why  didn't  'ee  punch  his 
head,  or  lay  theeself  doon  and  kick,  and  squeal  out  for  the 
pollis  ?  I'd  ha'  licked  a  doozen  such  as  him  when  I  was 
yoong  as  thee.  But  thee  be'est  a  poor  broken-doon  chap," 
said  John,  sadly,  "  and  God  forgi'  me  for  bragging  ower  yan 
o'  his  weakest  creeturs  !  " 

Smike  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  John  Browdie 
stopped  him. 

"  Stan'  still,"  said  the  Yorkshireman,  "  and  doant  'ee 
speak  a  morsel  o'  talk  till  I  tell  'ee." 

With  this  caution,  John  Browdie  shook  his  head  signifi- 
cantly, and,  drawing  a  screwdriver  from  his  pocket,  took  off 
the  box  of  the  lock  in  a  very  deliberate  and  workmanlike 
manner,  and  laid  it,  together  with  the  implement,  on  the 
floor. 

"  See  thot  ?  "  said  John.  "  Thot  be  thy  doin'.  Noo,  coot 
awa'  !  " 

Smike  looked  vacantly  at  him,  as  if  unable  to  comprehend 
his  meaning, 

"  I  say,  coot  awa',"  repeated  John,  hastily.  "  Dost  thee 
know  where  thee  livest  ?  Thee  dost  ?  Week  Are  yon  thy 
clothes,  or  schoolmeasther's  ?  " 

"  Mine,"  replied  Smike,  as  the  Yorkshireman  hurried  him 
to  the  adjoining  room,  and  pointed  out  a  pair  of  shoes  and  a 
coat  which  were  lying  on  a  chair. 

"  On  wi'  'em  ! "  said  John,  forcing  the  wrong  arm  into  the 
wrong  sleeve,  and  winding  the  tails  of  the  coat  round  the  fu- 
gitive's neck.  "  Noo,  foUer  me,  and  when  thee  get'st  ootside 
door,  turn  to  the  right,  and  they  wean't  see  thee  pass." 

''But — but — he'll  hear  me  shut  the  door,"  replied  Smike, 
trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Then  dean't  shut  it  at  all,"  retorted  John  Browdie. 
"  Dang  it,  thee  bean't  afeard  o'  schoolmeasther's  takkin  cold, 
I  hope  ? " 

"N-no,"    said    Smike,   his   teeth  chattering   in   his   head. 


5o6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  But  he  brought  me  back  before,  and  will  again.     He  will, 
he  will  indeed." 

"  He  vvuU,  he  wall  ?  "  replied  John,  impatiently.  "  He 
wean't,  he  wean't.  Look'ee  !  I  wont  to  do  this  neighborly 
loike,  and  let  them  think  thee's  gotten  awa'  o'  theeself,  but  if 
he  cooms  oot  o'  that  parlor  awhiles  thee'rt  clearing  off,  he 
mun'  have  mercy  on  his  oun  bones,  for  I  wean't. '  If  he 
foinds  it  oot,  soon  efther,  I'll  put  'un  on  a  wrong  scent,  I  war- 
rant 'ee.  But  if  thee  keep'st  a  good  hart,  thee'il  be  at  whoam 
afore  they  know  thee'st  gotten  off.     Coom  !  " 

Smike,  who  comprehended  just  enough  of  this  to  know  it 
was  intended  as  encouragement,  prepared  to  follow  with  tot- 
tering steps,  when  John  whispered  in  his  ear. 

"  Thee'lt  just  tell  yoong  Measther,  that  I'm  sploiced  to 
'Tilly  Price,  and  to  be  heerd  on  at  the  Saracen  by  latther,  and 
that  I  bean't  jealous  of  'un — dang  it,  I'm  loike  to  boost  when 
I  thick  o'  that  neight  !  'C'od,  I  think  I  see  'un  now,  a  pow- 
derin'  awa'  at  the  tliin  bread  an'  butther !  " 

It  was  rather  a  ticklish  recollection  for  John  just  then,  for 
he  was  within  an  ace  of  breaking  out  into  a  loud  guffaw. 
Restraining  himself,  however,  just  in  time,  by  a  great  effort, 
he  glided  down  stairs,  hauling  Smike  behind  him  ;  then  plac- 
ing himself  close  to  the  parlor-door,  to  confront  the  first  per- 
son tliat  might  come  out,  he  signed  to  Smike  to  make  off. 

Having  got  so  far,  Smike  needed  no  second  bidding. 
Opening  the  house-door  gently,  and  casting  a  look  of  mingled 
gratitude  and  terror  at  his  deliAcrer,  he  took  the  direction 
which  had  been  indicated  to  him,  and  sped  away  like  the 
wind. 

The  Yorkshireman  remained  on  his  post,  for  a  few  min- 
utes, but  finding  that  there  was  no  pause  in  the  conversation 
inside,  crept  back  again  unheard,  and  stood  listening  over  the 
stair-rail  for  a  full  hour.  Everything  remaining  perfectly  quiet, 
he  got  into  Mr.  Squeers's  bed,  once  more,  and  drawing  the 
clothes  over  his  head,  laughed  till  he  was  nearly  smothered. 

If  there  could  only  have  been  somebody  by,  to  see  how 
the  bed-clothes  shook,  and  to  see  the  Yorkshireman's  great 
red  face  and  round  head  appear  above  the  sheets  every  now 
and  then,  like  some  jovial  monster  coming  to  the  surface  to 
breathe,  and  once  more  dive  down  convulsed  with  the  laughter 
which  came  bursting  forth  afresh — that  somebody  would  have 
been  scarcely  less  amused  than  John  Browdie  himself. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


507 


CHAPTER  XL. 

IN  WHICH  NICHOLAS  FALLS  IN  LOVE.  HE  EMPLOYS  A  MEDI- 
ATOR, WHOSE  PROCEEDINGS  ARE  CROWNED  WITH  UNEX- 
PECTED SUCCESS,  EXCEPTING  IN  ONE  SOLITARY  PARTIC- 
ULAR. 

Once  more  out  of  the  clutches  of  his  old  persecutor,  it 
needed  no  fresh  stimulation  to  call  forth  the  utmost  energy 
and  exertion  that  Smike  was  capable  of  summoning  to  his  aid. 
Without  pausing  for  a  moment  to  reflect  upon  the  course  he 
was  taking,  or  the  probability  of  its  leading  him  homewards 
or  the  reverse,  he  fled  away  with  surprising  swiftness  and  con- 
stancy of  purpose,  borne  upon  such  wings  as  only  Fear  can 
wear,  and  impelled  by  imaginary  shouts  in  the  well-remem- 
bered voice  of  Squeers,  who,  with  a  host  of  pursuers,  seemed 
to  the  poor  fellow's  disordered  senses  to  press  hard  upon  his 
track  ;  now  left  at  a  greater  distance  in  the  rear,  and  now 
gaining  faster  and  faster  upon  him,  as  the  alternations  of  hope 
and  terror  agitated  him  by  turns.  Long  after  he  had  become 
assured  that  these  sounds  were  but  the  creation  of  his  excited 
brain,  he  still  held  on,  at  a  pace,  which  even  weakness  and 
exhaustion  could  scarcely  retard.  It  was  not  until  the  dark- 
ness and  quiet  of  a  country  road,  recalled  him  to  his  sense  of 
external  ol)jects,  and  the  starry  sky,  above,  warned  him  of  the 
rapid  flight  of  time,  that,  covered  with  dust  and  panting  for 
breath,  he  stopped  to  listen  and  look  about  him. 

All  was  still  and  silent.  A  glare  of  light  in  the  distance, 
casting  a  warm  glow  upon  the  sky,  marked  where  the  huge 
city  lay.  Solitary  fields,  divided  by  hedges  and  ditches, 
through  many  of  which  he  had  crashed  and  scrambled  in  his 
flight,  skirted  the  road,  both  by  the  way  he  had  come  and 
upon  the  opposite  side.  It  was  late  now.  They  could 
scarcely  trace  him  by  such  paths  as  he  had  taken,  and  if  he 
could  hope  to  regain  his  own  dwelling,  it  must  surely  be  at 
such  a  time  as  that,  and  under  cover  of  the  darkness.  This, 
by  degrees,  became  pretty  plain,  even  to  the  mind  of  Smike. 
He  had,  at  first,  entertained  some  vague  and  childish  idea  of 
travelling  into  the  country  for  ten  or  a  dozen  miles,  and  then 


co8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

returning  homewards,  by  a  wide  circuit,  which  should  keep 
him  clear  of  London — so  great  was  his  apprehension  of  trav- 
ersing the  streets  alone,  lest  he  should  again  encounter  his 
dreaded  enemy — but,  yielding  to  the  conviction  which  these 
thoughts  inspired,  he  turned  back,  and  taking  the  open  road, 
though  not  without  many  fears  and  misgivings,  made  for  Lon- 
don again,  with  scarcely  less  speed  of  foot  than  that  with 
which  he  had  left  the  temporary  abode  of  Mr.  Squeers. 

By  the  time  he  re-entered  it,  at  the  western  extremity,  the 
greater  part  of  the  shops  were  closed.  Of  the  throngs  of 
people  who  had  been  tempted  abroad  after  the  heat  of  the 
day,  but  few  remained  in  the  streets,  and  they  were  lounging 
home.  But  of  these  he  asked  his  way  from  time  to  time,  and, 
by  dint  of  repeated  inquiries,  he  at  length  reached  the  dwell- 
ing of  Newman  Noggs. 

All  that  evening,  Newman  had  been  hunting  and  searching 
in  b3'-ways  and  corners  for  the  very  person  who  now  knocked 
at  his  door,  while  Nicholas  had  been  pursuing  the  same  inquiry 
in  other  directions.  He  was  sitting,  with  a  melancholy  air,  at 
his  poor  supper,  when  Smike's  timorous  and  uncertain  knock 
reached  his  ears.  Alive  to  every  sound,  in  his  anxious  and 
expectant  state,  Newman  hurried  down  stairs,  and,  uttering  a 
cry  of  joyful  surprise,  dragged  the  welcome  visitor  into  the 
passage  and  up  the  stairs,  and  said  not  a  word  until  he  had 
him  safe  in  his  own  garret  and  the  door  was  shut  behind  them, 
when  he  mixed  a  great  mug-full  of  gin  and  water,  and  holding 
it  to  Smike's  mouth,  as  one  might  hold  a  bowl  of  medicine 
to  the  lips  of  a  refractory  child,  commanded  him  to  drain  it  to 
the  last  drop. 

Newman  looked  uncommonly  blank  when  he  found  that 
Smike  did  little  more  than  put  his  lips  to  the  precious  mixture  ; 
he  was  in  the  act  of  raising  the  mug  to  his  own  mouth  witli  a 
deep  sigh  of  compassion  for  his  poor  friend's  weakness,  when 
Smike,  beginning  to  relate  the  adventures  which  had  befallen 
him,  arrested  him  half-way,  and  he  stood  listening,  with  the 
mug  in  his  hand. 

It  was  odd  enough  to  see  the  change  that  came  over  New- 
man as  Smil^e  proceeded.  At  first  he  stood,  rubbing  his  lips 
with  the  back  of  his  hand,  as  a  preparatory  ceremony  towards 
composing  himself  for  a  draught ;  then,  at  the  mention  of 
Squeers,  he  took  the  mug  under  his  arm,  and  opening  his 
eyes  very  wide,  looked  on  in  the  utmost  astonishment.  When 
Smike  came  to  the  assault  upon  himself,  in  the  hackney-coach, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  509 

he  hastily  deposited  the  mug  upon  the  table,  and  Umped 
up  and  down  the  room  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  excitement, 
stopping  himself  with  a  jerk,  every  now  and  then,  as  if  to 
listen  more  attentively.  When  John  Browdie  came  to  be 
spoken  of,  he  dropped,  by  slow  and  gradual  degrees,  into  a 
chair,  and  rubbing  his  hands  upon  his  knees — quicker  and 
quicker  as  the  story  reached  its  climax — burst,  at  last,  into  a 
laugh  composed  of  one  loud  sonorous  "  Ha  !  ha!"  Having 
given  vent  to  which,  his  countenance  immediately  fell  again 
as  he  inquired,  with  the  utmost  anxiety,  whether  it  was  prob- 
able that  John  Browdie  and  Squeers  had  come  to  blows? 

"  No !  I  think  not,"  replied  Smike.  "  I  don't  think  he 
could  have  missed  me  till  I  had  got  quite  away." 

Newman  scratched  his  head  with  a  show  of  great  disap- 
pointment, and  once  more  lifting  up  the  mug,  applied  him- 
self to  the  contents  ;  smiling  meanwhile,  over  the  rim,  with 
a  grim  and  ghastly  smile  at  Smike. 

"You  shall  stay  here,"  said  Newman;  "you're  tired — 
fagged.  I'll  tell  them  you're  come  back.  They  have  been 
half  mad  about  you.     Mr.  Nicholas " 

"  God  bless  him  !  "  cried  Smike. 

"  Amen  !  "  returned  Newman.  "  He  hasn't  had  a  min- 
ute's rest  or  peace ;  no  more  has  the  old  lady,  nor  Miss 
Nickleby." 

"  No,  no.  Has  she  thought  about  me  ?  "  said  Smike. 
"  Has  she  thought  1  Oh,  has  she,  has  she  ?  Don't  tell  me 
so,  if  she  has  not." 

"  She  has,"  cried  Newman.  "  She  is  as  noble-hearted  as 
she  is  beautiful." 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  cried  Smike,     "  Well  said  !  " 

"  So  mild  and  gentle,"  said  Newman. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  cried  Smike,  with  increasing  eagerness. 

"And  yet  with  such  a  true  and  gallant  spirit,"  pursued 
Newman. 

He  was  going  on,  in  his  enthusiasm,  when,  chancing  to 
look  at  his  companion,  he  saw  that  he  had  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  and  that  tears  were  stealing  out  between  his 
fingers. 

A  moment  before,  the  boy's  eyes  were  sparkling  with  un- 
wonted fire,  and  every  feature  had  been  lighted  up  with  an 
excitement  which  made  him  appear,  for  the  moment,  quite  a 
different  being. 

"Well,  well,"   muttered  Newman,   as   if  he  were  a  little 


2  1  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

puzzled.  "  It  has  touched  me,  more  than  once,  to  think  such 
a  nature  should  have  been  exposed  to  such  trials  ;  this  poor 
fellow — yes,  yes, — he  feels  that  too — it  softens  him — makes 
him  think  of  his  former  misery.  Hah  !  That's  it  .-*  Yes, 
that's — hum  !  " 

It  was  by  no  means  clear,  from  the  tone  of  these  broken 
reflections,  that  Newman  Noggs  considered  them  as  explain- 
ing at  all  satisfactorily,  the  emotion  which  had  suggested 
them.  He  sat,  in  a  musing  attitude,  for  some  time,  regarding 
Smike  occasionally  with  an  anxious  and  doubtful  glance,  which 
sufficiently  showed  that  he  was  not  very  remotely  connected 
with  his  thoughts. 

At  length  he  repeated  his  proposition  that  Smike  should 
remain  where  he  was  for  that  night,  and  that  he  (Noggs) 
should  straightway  repair  to  the  cottage  to  relieve  the  suspense 
of  the  family.  But,  as  Smike  would  not  hear  of  this — plead- 
ing his  anxiety  to  see  his  friends  again — they  eventually  sallied 
forth  together  ;  and  the  night  being,  by  this  time,  far  advanced, 
and  Smike  being,  besides,  so  footsore  that  he  could  hardly 
crawl  along,  it  was  within  an  hour  of  sunrise  when  they  reached 
their  destination. 

At  the  first  sound  of  their  voices  outside  the  house,  Nicho- 
las, who  had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  devising  schemes  for 
the  recovery  of  his  lost  charge,  started  from  his  bed,  and 
joyfully  admitted  them.  There  was  so  much  noisy  conversa- 
tion, and  congratulation,  and  indignation,  that  the  remainder 
of  the  family  were  soon  awakened,  and  Smike  received  a  warm 
and  cordial  welcome,  not  only  from  Kate,  but  from  Mrs. 
Nickleby  also :  who  assured  him  of  her  future  favor  and 
regard,  and  was  so  obliging  as  to  relate  for  his  entertainment 
and  that  of  the  assembled  circle  a  most  remarkable  account 
extracted  from  some  work  the  name  of  which  she  had  never 
known,  of  a  miraculous  escape  from  some  prison,  but  what 
prison  she  couldn't  remember,  effected  by  an  officer  whose 
name  she  had  forgotten,  confined  for  some  crime  which  she 
didn't  clearly  recollect. 

At  first  Nicholas  was  disposed  to  give  his  uncle  credit  for 
some  portion  of  this  bold  attempt  (which  had  so  nearly  proved 
successful),  to  carr}^  off  Smike  ;  but,  on  more  mature  consid- 
eration, he  was  inclined  to  think  that  the  full  merit  of  it  rested 
with  Mr.  Squeers.  Determined  to  ascertain,  if  he  could, 
through  John  lirowdic,  how  the  case  really  stood,  he  betook 
himself  to  his  daily  occupation  :  meditating  as  he  went,  on  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  r^ 

great  variety  of  schemes  for  the  punishment  of  the  Yorl^shire 
schoolmaster,  all  of  which  had  their  foundation  in  the  strictest 
principles  of  retributive  justice,  and  had  but  the  one  draw- 
back of  being  wholly  impracticable. 

"A  fine  morning,  Mr.  Linkinwater !  "  said  Nicholas,  en- 
tering the  office. 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  Tim,  "  talk  of  the  country,  indeed  ! 
What  do  3-0U  think  of  this,  now,  for  a  day — a  London  day — 
eh  .?  " 

"  It's  a  little  clearer  out  of  town,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Clearer  !  "  echoed  Tim  Linkinwater.  "  You  should  see  it 
from  my  bed-room  window." 

"  You  should  see  it  from  mine,"  replied  Nicholas,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  "  said  Tim  Linkinwater.  "  Don't  tell  me. 
Country  !  "  (Bow  was  quite  a  rustic  place  to  Tim),  "  Non- 
sense !  What  can  you  get  in  the  country  but  new-laid  eggs 
and  flowers  ?  I  can  buy  new-laid  eggs  in  Leadenhall  market, 
any  morning  before  breakfast.  And  as  to  flowers,  it's 
worth  a  run  up  stairs  to  smell  my  mignonette,  or  to  see  the 
double-wallflower  in  the  back-attic  window,  at  No.  6,  in  the 
court." 

"There  is  a  double-wallflower  at  No.  6,  in  the  court,  is 
there  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Yes,  is  there  !  "  replied  Tim,  "  and  planted  in  a  cracked 
jug,  without  a  spout.  There  were  hyacinths  there,  this  last 
spring,  blossoming  in but  you'll  laugh  at  that." 

"At  what?" 

"  At  their  blossoming  in  old  blacking-bottles,"  said 
Tim. 

"Not  I,  indeed,"  returned  Nicholas. 

Tim  looked  wistfully  at  him,  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  were 
encouraged  by  the  tone  of  this  reply  to  be  more  communica- 
tive on  the  subject  ;  sticking  behind  his  ear,  a  pen  that  he  had 
been  making,  and  shutting  up  his  knife  with  a  smart  click,  he 
said, 

"  They  belong  to  a  sickly  bed-ridden  hump-backed  boy, 
and  seem  to  be  the  only  pleasures,  Mr.  Nickleby,  of  his  sad 
existence.  How  many  years  is  it,"  said  Tim,  pondering, 
"since  I  first  noticed  him,  quite  a  little  child,  dragging  him- 
self about  on  a  pair  of  tiny  crutches  .''  \\'ell !  \\'ell  !  Not 
many ;  but  though  they  would  appear  nothing,  if  I  thought  of 
other  things,  they  seem   a  long  long  time,  when  I  think  cf 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

f/him.     It  is  a  sad  thing,"  said  Tim,  breaking  off,  "to  see  a 
little  deformed  child   sitting  apart  from  other  children,  who 
\  \  are   active  and  merry,  watching  the  games  he  is  denied  the 
power  to  share  in.     He  made  my  heart  ache  very  often." 

"  It  is  a  good  heart,"  said  Nicholas,  "  that  disentangles 
itself  from  the  close  avocations  of  every  day,  to  heed  such 
things.     You  were  saying " 

"  That  the  flowers  belonged  to  this  poor  boy,"  said  Tim  ; 
"that's  all.  When  it  is  fine  weather,  and  he  can  crawl  out  of 
bed,  he  draws  a  chair  close  to  the  window,  and  sits  there, 
looking  at  them  and  arranging  them,  all  day  long.  We  used 
to  nod^at  first,  ancj.  then  we  came  to  speak.  Formerly,  w^hen 
1  called  to  him  of  a  morning,  and  asked  him  how  he  was,  he 
would  smile,  and  say,  '  better ; '  but  now  he  shakes  his  head, 
and  only  bends  more  closely  over  his  old  plants.  It  must  be 
dull  to  watch  the  dark  house-tops  and  the  flying  clouds,  for 
so  many  months  ;  but  he  is  very  patient." 

"  Is  there  nobody  in  the  house  to  cheer  or  help  him  ?  " 
asked  Nicholas. 

"His  father  lives  there,  I  believe,"  replied  Tim,  "and 
other  people  too ;  but  no  one  seems  to  care  much  for  the 
poor  sickly  cripple.  I  have  asked  him,  very  often,  if  I  can  do 
nothing  for  him  ;  his  answer  is  always  the  same.  '  Nothing.' 
His  voice  is  growing  weak  of  late,  but  I  can  see  that  he  makes 
the  old  reply.  He  can't  leave  his  bed  now,  so  they  have 
moved  it  close  beside  the  window,  and  there  he  lies,  all  day  : 
now,  looking  at  the  sky,  and  now  at  his  flowers,  which  he 
still  makes  shift  to  trim  and  water,  with  his  own  thin  liands. 
At  night,  when  he  sees  my  candle,  he  draws  back  his  curtain, 
and  leaves  it  so,  till  I  am  in  bed.  It  seems  such  company  to 
him  to  know  that  I  am  there,  that  I  often  sit  at  my  window 
for  an  hour  or  more,  that  he  may  see  I  am  still  awake  ;  and 
sometimes  I  get  up  in  the  night  to  look  at  the  dull  melancholy 
lisiht  in  his  little  room,  and  wonder  whether  he  is  awake  or 
sleeping. 

"  The  night  will  not  be  long  coming,"  said  Tim,  "  when  he 
will  sleep,  and  never  wake  again  on  earth.  We  ha\e  never 
so  much  as  shaken  hands  in  all  our  lives,  and  yet  I  shall  miss 
him  like  an  old  friend.  Are  there  any  country  flowers  that 
could  interest  me  like  these,  do  you  think  ?  Or  do  you  sup- 
pose that  the  withering  of  a  hundred  kinds  of  the  choicest 
flowers  that  blow,  called  by  the  hardest  Latin  names  that 
were  ever  invented,  would  give  me  one  fraction  of  the  pain 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


513 


that  I  shall  feel  when  those  old  jugs  and  bottles  are  swept 
away  as  lumber !  Country  !  "  cried  Tim,  with  a  contemptu- 
ous emphasis ;  "  don't  you  know  that  I  couldn't  have  such 
a  court  under  my  bed-room  window,  anywhere,  but  in  Lon- 
don?" 

With  which  inquiry,  Tim  turned  his  back,  and  pretending 
to  be  absorbed  in  his  accounts,  took  an  opportunity  of  hastily 
wiping  his  eyes  when  he  supposed  Nicholas  was  looking  an- 
other way. 

Whether  it  was  that  Tim's  accounts  were  more  than  usually 
intricate  that  morning,  or  whether  it  was  that  his  habitual 
serenity  had  been  a  little  disturbed  by  these  recollections,  it 
so  happened  that  when  Nicholas  returned  from  executing 
some  commission,  and  inquired  whether  Mr.  Charles  Cheery- 
ble  was  alone  in  the  room,  Tim  promptly,  and  without  the 
smallest  hesitation,  replied  in  the  afifinnative,  although  some- 
body had  passed  into  the  room  not  ten  minutes  before,  and 
Tim  took  especial  and  particular  pride  in  preventing  any  in- 
trusion on  either  of  the  brothers  when  they  were  engaged  with 
any  visitor  whatever. 

"I'll  take  this  letter  to  him  at  once,"  said  Nicholas,  "if 
that's  the  case."  And  with  that,  he  walked  to  the  room  and 
knocked  at  the  door. 

No  answer. 

Another  knock,  and  still  no  answer. 

"He  can't  be  here,"  thought  Nicholas.  "I'll  lay  it  on 
his  table." 

So,  Nicholas  opened  the  door  and  walked  in  ;  and  very 
quickly  he  turned  to  walk  out  again,  when  he  saw,  to  his  great 
astonishment  and  discomfiture,  a  young  lady  upon  her  knees 
at  Mr.  Cheeryble's  feet,  and  Mr.  Cheeryble  beseeching  her  to 
rise,  and  entreating  a  third  person  who  had  the  appearance 
of  the  young  lady's  female  attendant,  to  add  her  persuasions 
to  his  to  induce  her  to  do  so. 

Nicholas  stammered  out  an  awkward  apology,  and  was 
precipitately  retiring,  when  the  young  lady,  turning  her  head  a 
little,  presented  to  his  view  the  features  of  the  lovely  girl 
whom  he  had  seen  at  the  register-office  on  his  first  visit  long 
before.  Glancing  from  her  to  the  attendant,  he  recognized 
the  same  clumsy  servant  who  had  accompanied  her  then  ;  and 
between  his  admiration  of  the  young  lady's  beauty,  and  the 
confusion  and  surprise  of  this  unexpected  recognition,  he 
stood  stock-still,  in  such  a  bewildered  state  of  surprise  and 


e  1 4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

embarrassment  that,  for  the  moment,  he  was  quite  bereft  of 
the  power  either  to  speak  or  move. 

"  My  dear  ma'am — my  dear  young  lady,"  cried  brother 
Charles  in  violent  agitation,  "  pray  don't — not  another  word, 
I  beseech  and  entreat  you  !  I  implore  you — I  beg  of  you — to 
rise.     We — we — are  not  alone." 

As  he  spoke,  he  raised  the  young  lady,  who  staggered  to  a 
chair  and  swooned  away. 

"  She  has  fainted,  sir,"  said  Nicholas,  darting  eagerly  for- 
ward. 

"  Poor  dear,  poor  dear  !  "  cried  brother  Charles.    "  Where 

is  my  brother  Ned  ?    Ned,  my  dear  brother,  come  here  pray." 

"  Brother  Charles,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  his  brother, 

hurrying  into  the  room,  "  what  is  the ah  !  what " 

"  Hush  !  hush  ! — not  a  word  for  your  life,  brother  Ned," 
returned  the  other.  "  Ring  for  the  housekeeper,  my  dear 
brother— call  Tim  Linkinwater  !  Here,  Tim  Linkinwater,  sir 
— Mr.  Nickleby,  my  dear  sir,  leave  the  room,  I  beg  and  be- 
seech of  you." 

"  I  think  she  is  better  now,"  said  Nicholas,  who  had  been 
watching  the  patient  so  eagerly,  that  he  had  not  heard  the 
request. 

"  Poor  bird  !  "  cried  brother  Charles,  gently  taking  her 
hand  in  his,  and  laying  her  head  upon  his  arm.  "  Brother 
Ned,  my  dear  fellow,  you  will  be  surprised,  I  know,  to  witness 
this,  in  business  hours  ;  but — "  here  he  was  again  reminded 
of  the  presence  of  Nicholas,  and,  shaking  him  by  the  hand, 
earnestly  requested  him  to  leave  the  room,  and  to  send  Tim 
Linkinwater  without  an  instant's  delay. 

Nicholas  immediately  withdrew,  and,  on  his  way  to  the 
counting-house,  met  both  the  old  housekeeper  and  Tim  Link- 
inwater, jostling  each  other  in  the  passage,  and  hurrying  to 
the  scene  of  action  with  extraordinary  speed.  Without  wait- 
ing to  hear  his  message.  Tim  Linkinwater  darted  into  the 
room,  and  presently  afterwards  Nicholas  heard  the  door  shut 
and  locked  on  the  inside. 

He  had  abundance  of  time  to  ruminate  on  this  discovery, 
for  Tim  Linkinwater  was  absent  during  the  greater  part  of  an 
hour,  during  the  whole  of  which  time  Nicholas  thought  of 
nothing  but  the  young  lady,  and  her  exceeding  beauty,  and 
what  could  possibly  have  brought  her  there,  and  why  they 
made  such  a  mystery  of  it.  The  more  he  thoiight  of  all  this, 
the  more  it  perplexed  him,  and  the  more  anxious  he  became 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  ^  i  r 

to  know  who  and  what  she  was.     "  I  should  have  known  her  / 
among  ten  thousand,"  thought  Nicholas.     And  with  that  he  \ 
walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and  recalling  her  face   and    / 
figure    (of   which  he    had  a  peculiarly  vivid    remembrance),   / 
discarded  all  other  subjects  of  reflection  and  dwelt  upon  that  I 
alone.  ___A 

At  length  Tim  Linkinwater  came  back — provokingly  cool, 
and  with  papers  in  his  hand,  and  a  pen  in  his  mouth,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

"  Is  she  quite  recovered  ?  "  said  Nicholas,  impetuously. 

"  Who  ?  "  returned  Tim  Linkinwater. 

"Who  ?  "  repeated  Nicholas.     "  The  young  lady." 

"What  do  you  make,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Tim,  taking  his 
pen  out  of  his  mouth,  "  what  do  you  make  of  four  hundred 
and  twenty-seven  times  three  thousand  two  hundred  and  thirt\^- 
eight  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  returned  Nicholas,  "  what  do  you  make  of  my 
question  first  t     I  asked  you " 

"About  the  young  lady,"  said  Tim  Linkinwater,  putting 
on  his  spectacles.  "  To  be  sure.  Yes.  Oh !  she's  very 
well," 

"  Very  well,  is  she  t  "  returned  Nicholas. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Mr.  Linkinwater,  gravely. 

"Will  she  be  able  to  go  home  to  day.? "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  She's  gone,"  said  Tim. 

"  Gone  ! " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  hope  she  has  not  far  to  go  ? "  said  Nicholas,  looking 
earnestly  at  the  other. 

"  Ay,"  replied  the  immovable  Tim,    "  I  hope  she  hasn't." 

Nicholas  hazarded  one  or  two  further  remarks,  but  it  was 
evident  that  Tim  Linkinwaterhad  his  own  reasons  for  evading 
the  subject,  and  that  he  was  determined  to  afford  no  further 
information  respecting  the  fair  unknown,  who  had  awakened 
so  much  curiosity  in  the  breast  of  his  young  friend.  Nothing 
daunted  by  this  repulse,  Nicholas  returned  to  the  charge  next 
day,  emboldened  by  the  circumstance  of  Mr.  Linkinwater 
being  in  a  very  talkative  and  communicative  mood  ;  but,  he 
no  sooner  resumed  the  theme,  than  Tim  relapsed  into  a  state 
of  the  most  provoking  taciturnity,  and  from  answering  in 
monosyllables,  came  to  returning  no  answers  at  all,  save  such 
as  were  to  be  inferred  froiTi  several  grave  nods  and  shrugs, 
which   only  served  to  whet  that  appetite  for  intelligence  in 


5  1 6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

Nicholas,  which  had  already  attained  a  most  unreasonable 
height. 

Foiled  in  these  attempts,  he  was  fain  to  content  himself 
with  watching  for  the  young  lady's  next  visit,  but  here  again 
he  was  disappointed,  Day  after  day  passed,  and  she  did  not 
return.  He  looked  eagerly  at  the  superscription  of  all  the 
notes  and  letters,  but  there  was  not  one  among  them  which 
he  could  fancy  to  be  in  her  handwriting.  On  two  or  three  oc- 
casions he  was  employed  on  business  which  took  him  to  a  dis- 
tance, and  had  formerly  been  transacted  by  Tim  Linkinwater. 
Nicholas  could  not  help  suspecting  that,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  he  was  sent  out  of  the  way  on  purpose,  and  that  the 
young  lady  was  there  in  his  absence.  Nothing  transpired, 
however,  to  confirm  this  suspicion,  and  Tim  could  not  be 
entrapped  into  any  confession  or  admission  tending  to  support 
it  in  the  smallest  degree. 

Mystery  and  disappointment  are  not  absolutely  indispen- 
sable to  the  growth  of  love,  but  they  are,  very  often,  its  power- 
ful auxiliaries.  "  Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind,"  is  well  enough 
as  a  proverb  applicable  to  cases  of  friendship,  though  absence 
is  not  always  necessary  to  hollowness  of  heart,  even  between 
friends,  and  truth  and  honesty,  like  precious  stones,  are  per- 
haps most  easily  imitated  at  a  distance,  when  the  counterfeits 
often  pass  for  real.  Love,  however,  is  veryjmaterially  assisted 
by  a  warm  and  active  imagihafion,  which  has  a  long  ihemon,-, 
and'  will  thrive  for  a  considerable  time  on  very  s'ligRt  and 
sparing  food.  Thus  it  is,  that  it  often  attains  its  most  lux- 
uriant growth  in  separation  and  under  circumstances  of  the 
utmost  difficulty  ;  and  thus  it  was,  that  Nicholas,  thinking  of 
nothing  but  the  unknown  young  lady,  from  day  to  day  and 
from  hour  to  hour,  began,  at  last,  to  think  that  he  was  very 
desperately  in  love  with  her,  and  that  never  was  such  an  ill- 
used  and  persecuted  lover  as  he. 

Still,  though  he  loved  and  languished  after  the  most 
orthodox  models,  and  was  only  deterred  from  making  a  con- 
fidante of  Kate  by  the  slight  considerations  of  having  never, 
in  all  his  life,  spoken  to  the  object  of  his  passion,  and  having 
never  set  eyes  upon  her,  except  on  two  occasions,  on  both  of 
which  she  had  come  and  gone  like  a  flash  of  lightning — or, 
as  Nicholas  himself  said,  in  the  numerous  conversations  he 
held  with  himself,  like  a  vision  of  youth  and  beauty  much  too 
bright  to  last — his  ardor  and  devotion  remained  without  its 
reward.     The  young  lady  appeared  no  more ;  so  there  was  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


517 


great  deal  of  love  wasted  (enough  indeed,  to  have  set  up 
half-a-dozen  young  gentlemen,  as  times  go,  with  the  utmost 
decency)  and  nobody  was  a  bit  the  wiser  for  it ;  not  even 
Nicholas  himself,  who,  on  the  contrary,  became  more  dull, 
sentimental,  and  lackadaisical,  every  day. 

While  matters  were  in  this  state,  the  failure  of  a  corre- 
spondent of  the  Brothers  Cheeryble,  in  Germany,  imposed 
upon  Tim  Linkinwater  and  Nicholas  the  necessity  of  going 
through  some  very  long  and  complicated  accounts,  extending 
over  a  considerable  space  of  time.  To  get  through  them 
with  the  greater  despatch,  Tim  Lmkinwater  proposed  that 
they  should  remain  at  the  counting-house,  for  a  week  or  so, 
until  ten  o'clock  at  night ;  to  this,  as  nothing  damped  the 
zeal  of  Nicholas  in  the  service  of  his  kind  patrons — not  even 
romance,  which  has  seldom  business  habits — he  cheerfully 
assented.  On  the  very  first  night  of  these  later  hours,  at 
nine  exactly,  there  came,  not  the  young  lady  herself,  but  her 
servant,  who,  being  closeted  with  brother  Charles  for  some 
time,  went  away,  and  returned  next  night  at  the  same  hour, 
and  on  the  next,  and  on  the  next  again. 

These  repeated  visits  inflamed  the  curiosity  of  Nicholas 
to  the  very  highest  pitch.  Tantalized  and  excited,  beyond 
all  bearing,  and  unable  to  fathom  the  mystery  without 
neglecting  his  duty,  he  confided  the  whole  secret  to  Newman 
Noggs,  imploring  him  to  be  on  the  watch  next  night;  to 
follow  the  girl  home  ;  to  set  on  foot  such  inquiries  relative  to 
the  name,  condition,  and  histor}^  of  her  mistress,  as  he  could, 
without  exciting  suspicion  ;  and  to  report  the  result  to  him 
with  the  least  possible  delay. 

Beyond  all  measure  proud  of  this  commission,  Newman 
Noggs  took  up  his  post,  in  the  square,  on  the  following 
evening,  a  full  hour  before  the  needful  time,  and  planting 
himself  behind  the  pump  and  pulling  his  hat  over  his  eyes, 
began  his  watch  with  an  elaborate  appearance  of  mystery, 
admirably  calculated  to  excite  the  suspicion  of  all  beholders. 
Indeed,  divers  servant-girls  who  came  to  draw  water,  and 
sundry  little  boys  who  stopped  to  drink  at  the  ladle,  were 
almost  scared  out  of  their  senses,  by  the  apparition  of  New- 
man Noggs  looking  stealthily  round  the  pump,  with  nothing 
of  him  visible  but  his  face,  and  that  wearing  the  expression 
of  a  meditative  Ogre. 

Punctual  to  her  time,  the  messenger  came  again,  and, 
after  an  interview  of   rather  longer  duration  than  usual,  de- 


2 1 8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

parted,  Newman  had  made  two  appointments  with  Nich- 
olas :  one  for  the  next  evening,  conditional  on  his  success  : 
one  the  next  night  following,  which  was  to  be  kept  under  all 
circumstances.  The  first  night  he  was  not  at  the  place  of 
meeting  (a  certain  tavern  about  half-way  between  the  City 
and  Golden  Square),  but  on  the  second  night  he  was  there 
before  Nicholas,  and  received  him  with  open  arms. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Newman.  "  Sit  down.  Sit  down, 
there's  a  dear  young  man,  and  let  me  tell  you  all  about  it." 

Nicholas  needed  no  second  invitation,  and  eagerly  inquired 
what  was  the  news. 

"  There's  a  great  deal  of  news,"  said  Newman,  in  a  flutter 
of  exultation.  "  It's  all  right.  Don't  be  anxious.  I  don't 
know  where  to  begin.  Never  mind  that.  Keep  up  your 
spirits.     It's  all  right." 

"  Well  1  "  said  Nicholas  eagerly.     "  Yes  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Newman.     "  That's  it." 

"  What's  it  ?  "  said  Nicholas.  "  The  name — the  name, 
my  dear  fellow  !  " 

"The  name's  Bobster,"  replied  Newman. 

"  Bobster  !  "  repeated  Nicholas,  indignantly. 

"  That's  the  name,"  said  Newman.  "  I  remember  it  by 
Lobster." 

"  Bobster  !  "  repeated  Nicholas,  more  emphatically  than 
before.     "  That  must  be  the  servant's  name." 

"  No,  it  ain't,"  said  Newman,  shaking  his  head  with  great 
positiveness.     "  Miss  Cecilia  Bobster." 

"  Cecilia,  eh  ?  "  returned  Nicholas,  muttering  the  two  names 
together  over  and  over  again  in  every  variety  of  tone,  to  try 
the  effect.     "  Well,  Cecilia  is  a  pretty  name." 

"Very.     And  a  pretty  creature  too,"  said  Newman. 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 
^"Miss  Bobster." 
,     ^•'Why,  where  have  you  seen  her?"  demanded  Nicholas. 
.     •  "Never  mind,  my  dear  boy,"  retorted   Noggs,  clapping 
him  on  the  shoulder.     "I  have  seen  her.     You  shall  see  her. 
I've  managed  it  all;" 

"  My  dear  Newman,"  cried  Nicholas,  grasping  his  hand  ; 
"  are  you  serious  ?  " 

"  I  am,"  replied  Newman.  "  I  mean  it  all.  Every  word. 
You  shall  see  her  to-morrow  night.  She  consents  to  hear 
you  speak  for  yourself.  I  persuaded  her.  She  is  all  affability, 
sweetness,  and  beauty." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  519 

"  I  know  she  is  :  I  know  she  must  be,  Newman  ! "  said 
Nicholas,  wringing  his  hand. 

"You  are  right,"  returned  Newman. 

"  Where  does  she  live  ?  "  cried  Nicholas.  "  What  have 
you  learnt  of  her  history  1  Has  she  a  father — mother — any 
brothers — sisters  .''  What  did  she  say  ?  How  came  you  to 
see  her  ?  Was  she  not  very  much  surprised  ?  Did  you  say 
how  passionately  I  have  longed  to  speak  to  her  1  Did  you 
tell  her  where  I  had  seen  her  t  Did  you  tell  her  how,  and 
when,  and  where,  and  how  long,  and  how  often,  I  have  thought 
of  that  sweet  face  which  came  upon  me  in  my  bitterest  dis- 
tress like  a  glimpse  of  some  better  world — did  you,  Newman 
—did  you  ?  " 

Poor  Noggs  literally  gasped  for  breath  as  this  flood  of 
questions  rushed  upon  him,  and  moved  spasmodically  in  his 
chair  at  every  fresh  inquiry,  staring  at  Nicholas  meanwhile 
with  a  most  ludicrous  expression  of  perplexity. 

"  No,"  said  Newman,  "  I  didn't  tell  her  that." 

"  Didn't  tell  her  which?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  About  the  glimpse  of  the  better  world,"  said  Newman. 
"  I  didn't  tell  her  who  you  were,"  either,  or  where  you'd  seen 
her.     I  said  you  loved  her  to  distraction." 

"  That's  true,  Newman,"  replied  Nicholas,  with  his  char- 
acteristic vehemence.     "  Heaven  knows  I  do  !  " 

"  I  said  too,  that  you  had  admired  her  for  a  long  time  in 
secret,"  said  Newman. 

"  Yes,  yes.     What  did  she  say  to  that  'i  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  Blushed,"  said  Newman. 

"  To  be  sure.  Of  course  she  would,"  said  Nicholas,  ap- 
provingly. 

Newman  then  went  on  to  say,  that  the  yjoung  lady  was  an 
only  child,  that  her  mother  was  dead,  that  she  resided  with 
her  father,  and  that  she  had  been  induced  to  allow  her  lover 
a  secret  interview,  at  the  intercession  of  her  servant  who  had 
great  influence  with  her.  He  further  related  how  it  required 
much  moving  and  great  eloquence  to  bring  the  young  lady  to 
this  pass  ;  how  it  was  expressly  understood  that  she  merely/ 
afforded  Nicholas  an  opportunity  of  declaring  his  passion  ; 
and  how  she  by  no  means  pledged  herself  to  be  favorably 
impressed  with  his  attentions.  The  mystery  of  her  visits  to 
the  Brothers  Cherryble,  remained  wholly  unexplained,  for 
Newman  had  not  alluded  to  them,  either  in  his  preliminary 
conversations  with  the  servant  or  his  subsequent  interview  with 


C20  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

the  mistress,  merely  remarking  that  he  had  been  instructed 
to  watch  the  girl  home  and  plead  his  young  friend's  cause, 
and  not  saying  how  far  he  had  followed  her,  or  from  what 
point.  But  Newman  hinted  that  from  what  had  fallen  from 
the  confidante,  he  had  been  led  to  suspect  that  the  young  lady 
led  a  very  miserable  and  unhappy  life,  under  the  strict  con- 
trol of  her  only  parent,  who  was  of  a  violent  and  brutal 
temper  ,■  a  circumstance  which  he  thought  might  in  some 
degree  account,  both  for  her  having  sought  the  protection 
and  friendship  of  the  brothers,  and  her  suffering  herself  to  be 
prevailed  upon  to  grant  the  promised  interview.  The  last  he 
held  to  be  a  very  logical  deduction  from  the  premises,  inas- 
much as  it  was  but  natural  to  suppose  that  a  young  lady, 
whose  present  condition  was  so  unenviable,  would  be  more 
than  commonly  desirous  to  change  it. 

It  appeared,  on  further  questioning — for  it  was  only  by  a 
very  long  and  arduous  process  that  all  this  could  be  got  out 
of  Newman  Noggs  —  that  Newman,  in  explanation  of  his 
shabby  appearance,  had  represented  himself  as  being,  for 
certain  wise  and  indispensable  purposes  connected  with  that 
intrigue,  in  disguise  ;  and,  being  questioned  how  he  had  come 
to  exceed  his  commission  so  far,  as  to  procure  an  interview,  he 
responded,  that  the  lady  appearing  willing  to  grant  it,  he  con- 
sidered himself  bound,  both  in  duty  and  gallantry,  to  avail 
himself  of  such  a  golden  means  of  enabling  Nicholas  to  pros- 
ecute his  addresses.  After  these  and  all  possible  questions 
had  been  asked  and  answered  twenty  times  over,  they  parted, 
undertaking  to  meet  on  the  following  night  at  half-past  ten, 
for  the  purpose  of  fulfilling  the  appointment :  which  was  for 
eleven  o'clock. 

"  Things  come  about  very  strangely  !  "  thought  Nicholas, 
as  he  walked  home.  "  I  never  contemplated  anything  of  this 
kind ;  never  dreamt  of  the  possibility  of  it.  To  know  some- 
thing of  the  I  ife  of  one  in  whom  I  felt  such  interest ;  to  see 
her  in  the  street,  to  pass  the  house  in  which  she  lived,  to  meet 
her  sometimes  in  her  walks,  to  hope  that  a  day  might  come 
when  I  might  be  in  a  condition  to  tell  her  of  my  love,  this 
was  the  utmost  extent  of  my  thoughts.  Now,  however — but 
I  should  be  a  fool,  indeed,  to  repine  at  my  own  good  for- 
tune ! " 

Still,  Nicholas  was  dissatisfied  ;  and  there  was  more  in 
the  dissatisfaction  than  mere  revulsion  of  feeling.  He  was 
angry  with  the  young  lady  for  being  so  easily  won,  ''  because," 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


521 


reasoned  Nicholas,  "  it  is  not  as  if  she  knew  it  was  I,  but  it 
nughT'tacve-been'-anybod}''/'— ^which  was  certainly  not  pleas- 
^^aJL  The  next  moment,  he  was  angry  with  himself  for  enter- 
taining such  thoughts,  arguing  that  nothing  but  goodness 
could  dwell  in  such  a  temple,  and  that  the  behavior  of  the 
brothers  sufficiently  showed  the  estimation  in  which  they  held 
her.  "  The  fact  is,  she's  a  mystery  altogether,"  said  Nicholas. 
This  was  not  more  satisfactory  than  his  previous  course  of 
reflection,  and  only  drove  him  out  upon  a  new  sea  of  specu- 
lation and  conjecture,  where  he  tossed  and  tumbled,  in  great 
discomfort  of  mind,  until  the  clock  struck  ten,  and  the  hour 
of  meetins:  drew  nigh. 

Nicholas  had  dressed  himself  with  great  care,  and  even 
Newman  Noggs  had  trimmed  himself  up  a  little  :  his  coat 
presenting  the  phenomenon  of  two  consecutive  buttons,  and 
the  supplementary  pins  being  inserted  at  tolerably  regular  in- 
tervals. He  wore  his  hat,  too,  in  the  newest  taste,  with  a 
pocket  handkerchief  in  the  crown,  and  a  twisted  end  of  it 
straggling  out  behind  after  the  fashion  of  a  pigtail,  though  he 
could  scarcely  lay  claim  to  the  ingenuity  of  inventing  this 
latter  decoration,  inasmuch  as  he  was  utterly  unconscious  of 
,it;  being  in  a  nervous  and  excited  condition  which  rendered 
him  quite  insensible  to  everything  but  the  great  object  of  the 
expedition. 

They  traversed  the  streets,  in  profound  silence  ;  and  after 
walking  at  a  round  pace  for  some  distance,  arrived  in  one,  of 
a  gloomy  appearance  and  very  little  frequented,  near  the 
Edgeware-road. 

"  Number  twelve,"  said  Newman. 

"  Oh  !  "  replied  Nicholas,  looking  about  him. 

"  Good  street .''  "  said  Newman. 

"Yes,"  returned  Nicholas.     "Rather  dull." 

Newman  made  no  answer  to  this  remark,  but,  halting 
abruptly,  planted  Nicholas  with  his  back  to  some  area  rail- 
ings, and  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  was  to  wait  there, 
without  moving  hand  or  foot,  until  it  was  satisfactorily  ascer- 
tained that  the  coast  was  clear.  This  done,  Noggs  limped 
away  with  great  alacrity ;  looking  over  his  shoulder  every  in- 
stant, to  make  quite  certain  that  Nicholas  was  obeying  his 
directions  ;  and,  ascending  the  steps  of  a  house  some  half- 
dozen  doors  off,  was  lost  to  view. 

After  a  short  delay,  he  re-appeared,  and  limping  back 
again,  halted  midway,  and  beckoned  Nicholas  to  follow  him. 


c  2  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Nicholas,  advancing  towards  him  on  tiptoe. 
"  All  right,"  replied  Newman,  in  high  glee.  "  All  ready  ; 
nobody  at  home.     Couldn't  be  better.     Ha  !  ha  !  " 

With  this  fortifying  assurance,  he  stole  past  a  street-door, 
on  which  Nicholas  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  brass  plate,  with 
"  BoBSTER,"  in  very  large  letters  ;  and,  stopping  at  the  area- 
gate,  which  was  open,  signed  to  his  young  friend  to  descend. 

"  What  the  devil  !  "  cried  Nicholas,  drawing  back.  "  Are 
we  to  sneak  into  the  kitchen,  as  if  we  came  after  the  forks  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  "  replied  Newman.  "  Old  Bobster — ferocious 
Turk.  He'd  kill  'em  all — box  the  young  lady's  ears — he  does 
—often." 

"  What !  "  cried  Nicholas,  in  high  wrath,  "  do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  any  man  would  dare  to  box  the  ears  of  such 

a " 

He  had  no  time  to  sing  the  praises  of  his  mistress,  just 
then,  for  Newman  gave  him  a  gentle  push  which  had  nearly 
precipitated  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  area-steps.  Thinking 
it  best  to  take  the  hint  in  good  part,  Nicholas  descended, 
without  further  remonstrance,  but  with  a  countenance  be- 
speaking anything  rather  than  the  hope  and  rapture  of  a 
passionate  lover.  Newman  followed — he  would  have  fol- 
lowed head  first,  but  for  the  timely  assistance  of  Nicholas — 
and,  taking  his  hand,  led  him  through  a  stone  passage,  pro- 
foundly dark,  into  a  back  kitchen  or  cellar,  of  the  blackest 
and  most  pitchy  obscurity,  where  they  stopped. 

"  Well  !  "  said  Nicholas,  in  a  discontented  whisper,  "  this 
is  not  all,  I  suppose,  is  it  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  rejoined  Noggs  ;  "  they'll  be  here  directly.  It's 
all  right." 

"  I  am  gbd  to  hear  it,"  said  Nicholas.  "  I  shouldn't 
have  thought  it,  I  confess." 

They  exchanged  no  further  words,  and  there  Nicholas 
stood,  listening  to  the  loud  breathing  of  Newman  Noggs,  and 
imagining  that  his  nose  seemed  to  glow  like  a  red-hot  coal, 
even  in  the  midst  of  the  darkness  which  enshrouded  them. 
Suddenly,  the  sound  of  cautious  footsteps  attracted  his  ear, 
and  directly  afterwards  a  female  voice  inquired  if  the  gentle- 
man was  there. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Nicholas,  turning  towards  the  corner  from 
which  the  voice  proceeded.     "  Who  is  that  ?  " 

"Only  me,  sir,"  replied  the  voice.     "Now  if  you  please, 


ma'am." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  ^33 

A  gleam  of  light  shone  into  the  place,  and  presently  the 
servant-girl  appeared,  bearing  a  light,  and  followed  by  her 
young  mistress,  who  seemed  to  be  overwhelmed  by  modesty 
and  confusion. 

At  sight  of  the  young  lady  Nicholas  started  and  changed 
color  ;  his  heart  beat  violently,  and  he  stood  rooted  to  the 
spot.  At  that  instant,  and  almost  simultaneously  with  her 
arrival  and  that  of  the  candle,  there  was  heard  a  loud  and 
furious  knocking  at  the  street-door,  which  caused  Newman 
Noggs  to  jump  up  with  great  agility  from  a  beer-barrel  on 
which  he  had  been  seated  astride,  and  to  exclaim  abruptly, 
and  with  a  face  of  ashy  paleness,  "  Bobster,  by  the  Lord  !  " 

The  young  lady  shrieked,  the  attendant  wrung  her  hands, 
Nicholas  gazed  from  one  to  the  other  in  apparent  stupefac- 
tion, and  Newman  hurried  to  and  fro,  thrusting  his  hands  into 
all  his  pockets  successively,  and  drawing  out  the  linings  of 
every  one  in  the  excess  of  his  irresolution.  It  was  but  a  mo- 
ment, but  the  confusion  crowded  into  that  one  moment  no 
imagination  can  exaggerate. 

"  Leave  the  house,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  We  have  done 
wrong,  we  deserve  it  all,"  cried  the  young  lady.  "  Leave  the 
house,  or  I  am  ruined  and  undone  for  ever." 

"  Will  you  hear  me  say  but  one  word  !  "  cried  Nicholas. 
"  Only  one.  I  will  not  detain  you.  Will  you  hear  me  say 
one  word  in  explanation  of  this  mischance  1  " 

But  Nicholas  might  as  well  have  spoken  to  the  wind,  for 
the  young  lady,  with  distracted  looks,  hurried  up  the  stairs. 
He  would  have  followed  her,  but  Newman,  twisting  his  hand 
in  his  coat  collar,  dragged  him  towards  the  passage  by  which 
they  had  entered. 

"  Let  me  go,  Newman,  in  the  Devil's  name  ! "  cried 
Nicholas.  "  I  must  speak  to  her.  I  will !  I  will  not  leave 
this  house  without." 

"  Reputation — character — violence — consider,"  said  New- 
man, clinging  round  him  with  both  arms,  and  hurrying  him 
away.  "Let  them  open  the  door.  We'll  go,  as  we  came, 
directly  it's  shut.     Come.     This  way.     Here." 

Overpowered  by  the  remonstrances  of  Newman,  and  the 
tears  and  prayers  of  the  girl,  and  the  tremendous  knocking 
above,  which  had  never  ceased,  Nicholas  allowed  himself  to 
be  hurried  off ;  and,  precisely  as  Mr.  Bobster  made  his  en 
trance  by  the  street-door,  he  and  Noggs  made  their  exit  by 
the  area-gate. 


22  4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

They  hurried  away,  through  several  streets,  without  stop- 
ping or  speaking.  At  last,  they  halted  and  confronted  each 
other  with  blank  and  rueful  faces, 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Newman,  gasping  for  breath. 
"  Don't  be  cast  down.  It's  all  right.  More  fortunate  next 
time.     It  couldn't  be  helped.      I  did  my  part." 

"Excellently,"  replied  Nicholas,  taking  his  hand.  "Ex- 
cellently, and  like  the  true  and  zealous  friend  you  are.  Only 
— mind,  I  am  not  disappointed,  Newman,  and  feel  just  as 
much  indebted  to  you — only  it  was  the  wrong  lady T 

"  Eh  t  "  cried  Newman  Noggs,  "  Taken  in  by  the  ser- 
vant .? " 

"  Newman,  Newman,"  said  Nicholas,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder  :   "  it  was  the  wrong  servant  too." 

Newman's  under-jaw  dropped,  and  he  gazed  at  Nicholas, 
with  his  sound  eye  fixed  fast  and  motionless  in  his  head. 

"  Don't  take  it  to  heart,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "it's  of  no  conse- 
quence ;  you  see  I  don't  care  about  it ;  you  followed  the 
wrong  person,  that's  all." 

That  was  all.  Whether  Newman  Noggs  had  looked 
round  the  pump,  in  a  slanting  direction,  so  long,  that  his  sight 
became  impaired  ;  or  whether,  finding  that  there  was  time  to 
spare  he  had  recruited  himself  with  a  few  drops  of  something 
stronger  than  the  pump  could  yield — by  whatsoever  means  it 
had  come  to  pass,  this  was  his  mistake.  And  Nicholas  went 
home  to  brood  upon  it,  and  to  meditate  upon  the  charms  of 
the  unknown  young  lady,  now  as  far  beyond  his  reach  as  ever. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

CONTAINING  SOME  ROMANTIC  PASSAGES  BETWEEN  MRS.  NICK- 
LEBY AND  THE  GENTLEMAN  IN  THE  SMALL-CLOTHES  NEXT 
DOOR. 

Ever  since  her  last  momentous  conversation  with  her  son, 
Mrs.  Nickleby  had  begun  to  display  unusual  care  in  the  adorn- 
ment of  her  person,  gradually  superadding  to  those  staid  and 
matronly  habiliments  which  had,  up  to  that  time,  formed  her 
ordinary  attire,  a  variety  of  embellishments  and  decorations, 
slight  perhaps  in  themselves,  but,  taken  together,  and  consi- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  525 

dered  with  reference  to  the  subject  of  her  disclosure,  of  no 
mean  importance.  Even  her  black  dress  assumed  something 
of  a  deadly  lively  air  from  the  jaunty  style  in  which  it  was 
worn  ;  and,  eked  out  as  its  lingering  attractions  were,  by  a  pru- 
dent disposal,  here  and  there,  of  certain  juvenile  ornaments  of 
little  or  no  value,  which  had,  for  that  reason  alone,  escaped 
the  general  wreck  and  been  permitted  to  slumber  peacefully  in 
odd  corners  of  old  drawers  and  boxes  where  daylight  seldom 
shone,  her  mourning  garments  assumed  quite  a  new  character. 
From  being  the  outward  tokens  of  respect  and  sorrow  for  the 
dead,  they  became  converted  into  signals  of  very  slaughterous 
and  killing  designs  upon  the  living. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  might  have  been  stimulated  to  this  proceed- 
ing by  a  lofty  sense  of  duty,  and  impulses  of  unquestionable 
excellence.  She  might,  by  this  time,  have  become  impressed 
with  the  sinfulness  of  long  indulgence  in  una\'ailing  woe,  or 
the  necessity  of  setting  a  proper  example  of  neatness  and 
decorum  to  her  blooming  daughter.  Considerations  of  duty 
and  responsibility  apart,  the  change  might  have  taken  its  rise 
in  feelings  of  the  purest  and  most  disinterested  charity. 
The  gentleman  next  door  had  been  vilified  by  Nicholas  ; 
rudely  stigmatized  as  a  dotard  and  an  idiot  ;  and  for  these  at- 
tacks upon  his  understanding,  Mrs.  Nickleby  was,  in  some 
sort,  accountable.  She  might  have  felt  that  it  was  the  act  of 
a  good  Christian  to  show,  by  all  means  in  her  power,  that  the 
abused  gentleman  was  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  And 
what  better  means  could  she  adopt,  towards  so  virtuous  and 
laudable  an  end,  than  proving  to  all  men,  in  her  own  person, 
that  his  passion  was  the  most  rational  and  reasonable  in  the 
world,  and  just  the  very  result,  of  all  others,  which  discreet 
and  thinking  persons  might  have  foreseen,  from  her  incau- 
tiously displaying  her  matured  charms,  without  reserve,  under 
the  very  eye,  as  it  were,  of  an  ardent  and  too-susceptible  man  ? 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  gravely  shaking  her  head  ; 
"  if  Nicholas  knew  what  his  poor  dear  papa  suffered  before 
we  were  engaged,  when  I  used  to  hate  him,  he  would  have 
a  little  more  feeling.  Shall  I  ever  forgot  the  morning  I 
looked  scornfully  at  him  when  he  offered  to  carr}'  my 
parasol  ?  Or  that  night  when  I  frowned  at  him  ?  It  was 
a  mercy  he  didn't  emigrate.     It  very  nearly  drove  him  to  it." 

Whether  the  deceased  might  not  have  been  better  off  if  he 
had  emigrated  in  his  bachelor  days,  was  a  question  which  his 
relict  did  not  stop  to  consider ;  for  Kate  entered  the  room,  with 


526 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


her  work-box,  m  this  stage  of  her  reflections  ;  and  a  much  slight- 
er interruption,  or  no  interruption  at  all,  would  have  diverted 
Mrs.  Nickleby's  thoughts  into  a  new  channel  at  any  time. 

"  Kate,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby ;  "  I  don't  know 
how  it  is,  but  a  fine  warm  summer  day  like  this,  with  the  birds 
singing  in  every  direction,  always  puts  me  in  mind  of  roast 
pig,  with  sage  and  onion  sauce,  and  made  gravy." 

"  That's  a  curious  association  of  ideas,  is  it  not,  mama  ? " 

"  Upon  my  word,  my  dear,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mrs. 
Nickleby.  "  Roast  pig  ;  let  me  see.  On  the  day  five  weeks 
after  you  were  christened,  we  had  a  roast — no  that  couldn't 
have  been  a  pig,  either,  because  I  recollect  there  were  a  pair 
of  them  to  carve,  and  your  poor  papa  and  I  could  never  have 
thought  of  sitting  down  to  two  pigs — they  must  have  been 
partridges.  Roast  pig  !  I  hardly  think  we  ever  could  have 
had  one,  now  I  come  to  remember,  for  your  papa  could  never 
bear  the  sight  of  them  in  the  shops,  and  used  to  say  that  they 
always  put  him  in  mind  of  very  little  babies,  only  the  pigs  had 
much  fairer  complexions  ;  and  he  had  a  horror  of  little  babies, 
too,  because  he  couldn't  very  well  afford  any  increase  to  his 
family,  and  had  a  natural  dislike  to  the  subject.  It's  very 
odd  now,  what  can  have  put  that  in  my  head !  I  recollect 
dining  once  at  Mrs.  Bevan's,  in  that  broad  street  round  the 
corner  by  the  coachmaker's,  where  the  tipsy  man  fell  through 
the  cellar-flap  of  an  empty  house  nearly  a  week  before  the 
quarter-day,  and  wasn't  found  till  the  new  tenant  went  in — 
and  we  had  roast  pig  there.  It  must  be  that,  I  think,  that 
reminds  me  of  it,  especially  as  there  was  a  little  bird  in  the 
room  that  would  keep  on  singing  all  the  time  of  dinner — at 
least,  not  a  little  bird,  for  it  was  a  parrot,  and  he  didn't  sing 
exactly,  for  he  talked  and  swore  dreadfully  ;  but  I  think  it  must 
be  that.  Indeed  I  am  sure  it  must.  Shouldn't  you  say  so, 
my  dear  ? " 

"  I  should  say  there  was  not  a  doubt  about  it,  mama,"  re- 
turned Kate,  with  a  cheerful  smile.  "  No  ;  but  do  you  think 
so,  Kate } "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  as  much  gravity  as  if  it 
were  a  question  of  the  most  imminent  and  thrilling  interest. 
"  If  you  don't,  say  so  at  once,  you  know  ;  because  it's  just  as 
well  to  be  correct,  particularly  on  a  point  of  this  kind,  which 
is  very  curious  and  worth  settling  while  one  thinks  about  it." 

Katf  laughingly  replied  that  she  was  quite  convinced  ; 
and  as  her  mama  still  appeared  undetermined  whether  it  was 
not  absolutely  essential  tliat  the  subject  should  be  renewed, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  e  2  7 

proposed  that  they  should  take  their  work  into  the  summer- 
house,  and  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  afternoon.  Mrs.  Nickleby 
readily  assented,  and  to  the  summer-house  they  repaired, 
without  further  discussion. 

"  Well,  I  say,"  observed  Mrs.  Nicklely,  as  she  took  her 
seat,  "  that  there  never  was  such  a  good  creature  as  Smike. 
Upon  my  word,  the  pains  he  has  taken  in  putting  this  little 
arbor  to  rights,  and   training   the  sweetest   flowers  about  it, 

are   beyond    anything   I  could   have 1  wish  he   wouldn't 

put  all  the  gravel  on  your  side,  Kate,  my  dear,  though,  and 
leave  nothing  but  mould  for  me." 

"  Dear  mama,"  returned  Kate,  hastily,  "  take  this  seat — • 
do — to  oblige  me,  mama." 

"  No,  indeed,  my  dear.  I  shall  keep  my  own  side,"  said 
Mrs.  Nickleby.     "  Well !  I  declare  !  " 

Kate  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"If  he  hasn't  been,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "and  got,  from 
somewhere  or  other,  a  couple  of  roots  of  those  flowers  that  I 
said  I  was  so  fond  of,  the  other  night,  and  asked  you  if  you 
were  not — no,  that  you  said  you  were  so  fond  of,  the  other 
night,  and  asked  me  if  I  wasn't — it's  the  same  thing.  Now, 
upon  my  word,  I  take  that  as  very  kind  and  attentive  indeed  ! 
I  don't  see,"  added  Mrs.  Nickleby,  looking  narrowly  about 
her,  "  any  of  them,  on  my  side,  but  I  suppose  they  grow  best 
near  the  gravel.  You  may  depend  upon  it  they  do,  Kate,  and 
that's  the  reason  they  are  all  near  you,  and  he  has  put  the 
gravel  there,  because  it's  the  sunny  side.  Upon  my  word, 
that's  very  clever  now  !  I  shouldn't  have  had  half  so  much 
thought  myself  I  " 

"  Mama,"  said  Kate,  bending  over  her  work  so  that  her 
face  was  almost  hidden,  "  before  you  were  married " 

"Dear  me,  Kate,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  what  in 
the  name  of  goodness  graciousness  makes  you  fly  off  to  the 
time  before  I  was  married,  when  I'm  talking  to  you  about  his 
thoughtfulness  and  attention  to  me  .''  You  don't  seem  to  take 
the  smallest  interest  in  the  garden." 

"Oh!  mama,"  said  Kate,  raising  her  face  again,  "you 
know  I  do." 

"  Well  then,  my  dear,  why  don't  you  praise  the  neatness 
and  prettiness  with  which  it's  kept.?"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 
"  How  very  odd  you  are,  Kate  !  " 

•"  I  do  praise  it,  mama,"  answered  Kate,  gently.  "  Poor 
fellow ! " 


g 28  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

"  I  scarcely  ever  hear  you,  my  dear,"  retorted  Mrs.  Nickle- 
by ;  "  that's  all  I've  got  to  say."  By  this  time  the  good  lady 
had  been  a  long  while  upon  one  topic,  so  she  fell  at  once  into 
her  daughter's  little  trap,  if  trap  it  were,  and  inquired  what 
she  had  been  going  to  say. 

"  About  what,  mama .'' "  said  Kate,  who  had  apparently 
quite  forgotten  her  diversion. 

"  Lor,  Kate,  my  dear,"  returned  her  mother,  "  why,  you're 
asleep  or  stupid  !     About  the  time  before  I  was  married." 

"Oh  yes!"  said  Kate,  "I  remember.  I  was  going  to 
ask,  mama,  before  you  were  married,  had  you  many  suitors .''  " 

"  Suitors,  my  dear  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  a  smile  of 
wonderful  complacency.  "  First  and  last,  Kate,  I  must  have 
had  a  dozen  at  least." 

"  Mama  !  "  returned  Kate,  in  a  tone  of  remonstrance. 

"  I  had  indeed,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  ;  "  not  in- 
cluding your  papa,  or  a  young  gentleman  who  used  to  go,  at 
that  time,  to  the  same  dancing  school,  and  who  would  send 
gold  watches  and  bracelets  to  our  house  in  gilt-edged  paper 
(which  were  always  returned),  and  who  afterwards  unfortu- 
nately went  out  to  Botany  Bay  in  a  cadet  ship — a  convict  ship 
I  mean — and  escaped  into  a  bush  and  killed  sheep  (I  don't 
know  how  they  got  there),  and  was  going  to  be  hung,  only  he 
accidently  choked  himself,  and  the  government  pardoned  him. 
Then  there  was  young  Lukin,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  beginning 
with  her  left  thumb  and  checking  off  the  names  on  her  fin- 
gers— "  Mogley — Tipslark — Cabbery — Smifser " 

Having  now  reached  her  little  finger,  Mrs.  Nickleby  was 
carrying  the  account  over  to  the  other  hand,  when  a  loud 
"  Hem  !  "  which  appeared  to  come  from  the  very  foundation 
of  the  garden-wall,  gave  both  herself  and  her  daughter  a  vio- 
lent start. 

"  Mama !  what  was  that  1 "  said  Kate,  in  a  low  tone  of 
voice. 

"  Upon  my  word,  my  dear,"  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby,  con- 
siderably startled,  '*  unless  it  was  the  gentleman  belonging  to 
the  next  house,  I  don't  know  what  it  could  possibly " 

"  A — hem  !  "  cried  the  same  voice  ;  and  that,  not  in  the 
tone  of  an  ordinary  clearing  of  the  throat,  but  in  a  kind  of 
bellow,  which  woke  up  all  the  echoes  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  was  prolonged  to  an  extent  which  must  have  made  the 
unseen  bellower  quite  black  in  the  face. 

"  I  understand  it  now,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  lay- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  r 29 

ing  her  hand  on  Kate's  ;  "  don't  be  alarmed,  my  love,  it's  not 
directed  to  you,  and  is  not  intended  to  frighten  anybody.  Let 
us  give  everybody  their  due,  Kate ;    I  am  bound  to  say  that." 

So  saying,  Mrs.  Nickleby  nodded  her  head,  and  patted 
the  back  of  her  daughter's  hand,  a  great  many  times,  ana 
looked  as  if  she  could  tell  something  vastly  important  if  she 
chose,  but  had  self-denial,  thank  Heaven ;  and  wouldn't  do  it. 
"What  do  you  mean,  mama }  "  demanded  Kate,  in  evident 
s  irprise. 

"  Doiv't  be  flurried,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  look- 
ing towards  the  garden-wall,  "  for  you  see  I'm  not,  and  if  it 
would  be  excusable  in  anybody  to  be  flurried,  it  certainly 
would — under  all  the  circumstances — be  excusable  in  me,  but 
I  am  not,  Kate,  not  at  all." 

"  It  seems  designed  to  attract  our  attention,  mama,"  said 
Kate. 

"  It  is  designed  to  attract  our  attention,  my  dear  ;  at  least," 
rejoined  Mrs.  Nickleby,  drawing  herself  up,  and  patting  her 
daughter's  hand  more  blandly  than  before,  "  to  attract  the 
attention  of  one  of  us.  Hem  !  you  needn't  be  at  all  uneasy, 
my  dear." 

Kate  looked  very  much  perplexed,  and  was  apparently 
about  to  ask  for  further  explanation,  when  a  shouting  and 
scufifling  noise,  as  of  an  elderly  gentleman  whooping,  and 
kicking  up  his  legs  on  loose  gravel,  with  great  violence,  was 
heard  to  proceed  from  the  same  direction  as  the  former 
sounds  ;  and,  before  they  had  subsided,  a  large  cucumber 
was  seen  to  shoot  up  in  the  air  with  the  velocity  of  a  sky- 
rocket, whence  it  descended,  tumbling  over  and  over,  until  it 
fell  at  Mrs.  Nickleby's  feet. 

This  remarkable  appearance  was  succeeded  by  another  of 
a  precisely  similiar  description  ;  then  a  fine  vegetable  marrow, 
of  unusually  large  dimensions,  was  seen  to  whirl  aloft,  and 
come  toppling  down  ;  then,  several  cucumbers  shot  up  to- 
gether ;  finally,  the  air  was  darkened  by  a  shower  of  onions, 
turnip-radishes,  and  other  small  vegetables,  which  fell  rolling 
and  scattering,  and  bumping  about,  in  all  directions. 

As  Kate  rose  from  her  seat,  in  some  alarm,  and  caught 
her  mother's  hand  to  run  with  her  into  the  house,  she  felt 
herself  rather  retarded  than  assisted  in  her  intention;  and 
following  the  direction  of  Mrs.  Nickleby's  eyes,  was  quite 
terrified  by  the  apparition  of  an  old  black  velvet  cap,  which, 
by  slow  degrees;,  as  if  its  wearer  were  ascending  a  ladder  or 

34 


r3o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

pair  of  steps,  rose  above  the  wall  dividing  their  garden  from 
that  of  the  next  cottage  (which,  like  their  own,  was  a  detached 
building),  and  was  gradually  followed  by  a  very  large  head, 
and  an  old  face  in  which  were  a  pair  of  most  extraordinary 
grey  eyes :  very  wild,  very  wide  open,  and  rolling  in  their 
sockets,  with  a  dull  languishing  leering  look,  most  ugly  to 
behold. 

"  Mama  !  "  cried  Kate,  really  terrified  for  the  moment, 
"  why  do  you  stop,  why  do  you  lose  an  instant  ?  Mama,  pray 
come  in  ! " 

"  Kate,  my  dear,"  returned  her  mother,  still  holding  back, 
"  how  can  you  be  so  foolish  ?  I'm  ashamed  of  you.  How  do 
you  suppose  you  are  ever  to  get  through  life,  if  you're  such  a 
coward  as  this  !  What  do  you  want,  sir  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
addressing  the  intruder  with  a  sort  of  simpering  displeasure. 
"  How  dare  you  look  into  this  garden  ?  " 

"Queen  of  my  soul,"  replied  the  stranger,  folding  his 
hands  together,  "  this  goblet  sip  !  " 

"Nonsense,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "Kate,  my  love, 
pray  be  quiet." 

"  Won't  you  sip  the  goblet  ?  "  urged  the  stranger,  with  his 
head  imploringly  on  one  side,  and  his  right  hand  on  his  breast. 
"  Oh,  do  sip  the  goblet !  " 

I  shall  not  consent  to  do  anything  of  the  kind,  sir,"  said 
Mrs.  Nickleby.     "  Pray,  begone." 

"Why  is  it,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  coming  up  a  step 
higher,  and  leaning  his  elbows  on  the  wall,  with  as  much  com- 
placency as  if  he  were  looking  out  of  window,  "  why  is  it  that 
beauty  is  always  obdurate,  even  when  admiration  is  as  honor- 
able and  respectful  as  mine.?"  Here  he  smiled,  kissed  his 
hand,  and  made  several  low  bows.  "  Is  it  owing  to  the  bees,  who, 
when  the  honey  season  is  over,  and  they  are  supposed  to  have 
been  killed  with  brimstone,  in  reality  fly  to  Barbar)-  and  lull 
the  captive  Moors  to  sleep  with  their  drowsy  songs  ?  Or, 
is  it,"  he  added,  dropping  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper,  "  in 
consequence  of  the  statue  at  Charing  Cross  having  been  lately 
seen,  on  the  Stock  Exchange  at  midnight,  walking  arm-in-arm 
with  the  Pump  from  Aldgate,  in  a  riding-habit  ?  " 

"  Mama,"  murmured  Kate,  "  do  you  hear  him.?  " 

"  Hush,  my  dear !  "  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  in  the  same 
tone  of  voice,  "he  is  very  polite,  and  I  think  that  was  a 
quotation  from  the  poets.  Pray,  don't  worry  me  so — you'll 
pinch  my  arm  black  and  blue.     Go  away,  sir  ! " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  ^31 

"  Quite  away  ?  "  said  the  gentleman,  with  a  languishing 
look,  "  Oh  !  quite  away  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  certainly.  You  have  no 
business  here.  This  is  private  property,  sir ;  you  ought  to 
know  that." 

"  I  do  know,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  laying  his  finger  on 
his  nose,  with  an  air  of  familiarity,  most  reprehensible,  "  that 
this  is  a  sacred  and  enchanted  spot,  where  the  most  divine 
charms" — here  he  kissed  his  hand  and  bowed  again — "waft 
mellifluousness  over  the  neighbors'  gardens,  and  force  the  fruit 
and  vegetables  into  premature  existence.  That  fact  I  am 
acquainted  with.  But  will  you  permit  me,  fairest  creature,  to 
ask  you  one  question,  in  the  absence  of  the  planet' Venus,  who 
has  gone  on  business  to  the  Horse  Guards,  and  would  other- 
wise— jealous  of  your  superior  charms — interpose  between 
us .? " 

"  Kate,"  observ-ed  Mrs.  Nickleby,  turning  to  her  daughter, 
"it's  ver)^  awkward,  positively.  "I  really  don't  know  what  to 
say  to  this  gentleman.     One  ought  to  be  civil,  you  know." 

"  Dear  mama,"  rejoined  Kate,  "  don't  say  a  word  to  him, 
but  let  us  run  away,  as  fast  as  we  can,  and  shut  ourselves  up 
till  Nicholas  comes  home." 

Mrs.  Nickleby  looked  very  grand,  not  to  say  contemptuous, 
at  this  humiliating  proposal ;  and,  turning  to  the  old  gentle- 
man, who  had  watched  them  during  these  whispers  with 
absorbing  eagerness,  said  : 

"  If  you  will  conduct  yourself,  sir,  like  the  gentleman  I 
should  imagine  you  to  be,  from  your  language  and — and 
appearance  (quite  the  counterpart  of  your  grand-papa,  Kate, 
my  dear,  in  his  best  days),  and  will  put  your  question  to  me  in 
plain  words,  I  will  answer  it." 

If  Mrs.  Nickleby's  excellent  papa  had  borne,  in  his  best 
days,  a  resemblance  to  the  neighbor  now  looking  over  the 
wall,  he  must  have  been,  to  say  the  least,  a  very  queer-looking 
old  gentleman  in  his  prime.  Perhaps  Kate  thought  so,  for  she 
ventured  to  glance  at  his  living  portrait  with  some  attention, 
as  he  took  off  his  black  velvet  cap,  and,  exhibiting  a  perfectly 
bald  head,  made  a  long  series  of  bows,  each  accompanied  with 
a  fresh  kiss  of  the  hand.  After  exhausting  himself,  to  all 
appearance,  with  this  fatiguing  performance,  he  covered  his 
head  once  more,  pulled  the  cap  very  carefully  over  the  tips  of 
his  ears,  and  resuming  his  former  attitude,  said  : 

"  The  question  is — " 


232  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Here  he  broke  off  to  look  round  in  every  direction,  and 
satisfy  himself  beyond  all  doubt  that  there  were  no  listeners 
near.  Assured  that  there  were  not,  he  tapped  his  nose  several 
times,  accompanying  the  action  with  a  cunning  look,  as  though 
congratulating  himself  on  his  caution  ;  and  stretching  out  his 
neck,  said  in  a  loud  whisper, 

"Are  you  a  princess  ?" 

"You  are  mocking  me,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
making  a  feint  of  retreating  towards  the  house. 

"  No,  but  are  you  ?  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"You  know  I  am  not,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  Then  are  you  any  relation  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury }  "  inquired  the  old  gentleman  with  great  anxiety.  "  Or 
to  the  Pope  of  Rome  ?  Or  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of 
Commons  ?  Forgive  me,  if  I  am  wrong,  but  I  was  told  you 
were  niece  to  the  Commissioners  of  Paving,  and  daughter-in- 
law  to  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Court  of  Common  Council,  which 
would  account  for  your  relationship  to  all  three." 

"  Whoever  has  spread  such  reports,  sir,"  returned  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  with  some  warmth,  "  has  taken  great  liberties  with 
my  name,  and  one  which  I  am  sure  my  son  Nicholas,  if  he 
was  aware  of  it,  would  not  allow  for  an  instant.  The  idea !  " 
said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  drawing  herself  up.  "  Niece  to  the  Com- 
missioners of  Paving  !  " 

"  Pray,  mama,  come  away  !  "  whispered  Kate. 

"'Pray,  mama!'  Nonsense,  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
angrily,  "  but  that's  just  the  way.  If  they  had  said  I  was  niece 
to  a  piping  bullfinch,  what  would  you  care  !  But  I  have  no 
sympathy,"  whimpered  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  I  don't  expect  it, 
that's  one  thing." 

"  Tears  !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman,  with  such  an  energetic 
jump,  that  he  fell  down  two  or  three  steps  and  grated  his  chin 
against  the  wall.  "  Catch  the  ciystal  globules — catch  'em — 
bottle  'em  up — cork  'em  tight — put  sealing-wax  on  the  top — 
seal  'em  with  a  cupid — label  'em  '  Best  quality  ' — and  stow 
'em  away  in  the  fourteen  binn,  with  a  bar  of  iron  on  the  top 
to  keep  the  thunder  off  !  " 

Issuing  these  commands,  as  if  there  were  a  dozen  attend- 
ants all  acti\ely  engaged  in  their  execution,  he  turned  his 
velvet  cap  inside  out,  put  it  on  with  great  dignity  so  as  to  ob- 
scure his  right  eye  and  three-fourths  of  his  nose,  and  sticking 
his  arms  a-kimbo,  looked  very  fiercely  at  a  sparrow  hard  by, 
till  the  bird  flew  away.     He  then  put  his  cap  in  his  pocket 


NICHOLAS  N/CKLEBY,  533 

with  an  air  of  great  satisfaction,  and  addressed  himself  with 
respectful  demeanor  to  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  Beautiful  madam,"  such  were  his  words,  "  if  I  have  made 
any  mistake  with  regard  to  your  family  or  connections,  I 
humbly  beseech  you  to  pardon  me.  If  I  supposed  you  to  be 
related  to  Foreign  Powers  or  Native  Boards,  it  is  because )'0u 
have  a  manner,  a  carriage,  a  dignity,  which  you  will  excuse 
my  saying  that  none  but  yourself  (with  the  single  exception 
perhaps  of  the  tragic  muse,  when  playing  extemporaneously 
on  the  barrel,  organ  before  the  East  India  Company)  can  par- 
allel. I  am  not  a  youth,  ma'am,  as  you  see  ;  and  although 
beings  like  you  can  never  grow  old,  I  venture  to  presume  that 
we  are  fitted  for  each  other." 

"  Really,  Kate,  my  love  !  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  faintty,  and 
looking  another  way. 

"  I  have  estates,  ma'am,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  flourish- 
ing his  right  hand  negligently,  as  if  he  made  very  light  of  such 
matters,  and  speaking  very  fast ;  "  jewels,  light-houses,  fish- 
ponds, a  whalery  of  my  own  in  the  North  Sea,  and  several 
oyster-beds  of  great  profit  in  the  Pacific  Ocean.  If  you  will 
have  the  kindness  to  step  down  to  the  Royal  Exchange  and  to 
take  the  cocked  hat  off  the  stoutest  beadle's  head,  you  will 
find  my  card  in  the  lining  of  the  crown,  wrapped  up  in  a  piece 
of  blue  paper.  Mywalking-stick  is  also  to  be  seen  on  appli- 
cation to  the  chaplain  of  the  House  of  Commons,  who  is 
strictly  forbidden  to  take  any  money  for  showing  it.  I  have 
enemies  about  me,  ma'am,"  he  looked  towards  his  house  and 
spoke  very  low,  "  who  attack  me  on  all  occasions,  and  wish  to 
secure  my  property.  If  you  bless  me  with  your  hand  and 
heart,  you  can  apply  to  the  Lord  Chancellor  or  call  out  the 
military  if  necessary — sending  my  tooth-pick  to  the  com- 
mander-in-chief will  be  sufficient — and  so  clear  the  house  of 
them  before  the  ceremony  is  performed.  After  that,  love  bliss 
and  rapture  ;  rapture  love  and  bliss.      Be  mine,  be  mine  !  " 

Repeating  these  last  words  with  great  rapture  and  enthu^ 
siasm  the  old  gentleman  put  on  his  black  velvet  cap  again, 
and  looking  up  into  the  sky  in  a  hasty  manner,  said  something 
that  was  not  quite  intelligible  concerning  a  balloon  he  ex- 
pected, and  which  was  rather  after  its  time. 

"  Be  mine,  be  mine  !  "  repeated  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Kate,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "I  have  hardly  the 
power  to  speak  ;  but  it  is  necessary  for  the  happiness  of  all 
parties  that  this  matter  should  be  set  at  rest  for  ever. 


^34  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Surely  there  is  no  necessity  for  you  to  say  one  word, 
mama  ?  "  reasoned  Kate. 

"  You  will  allow  me,  my  dear,  if  you  please,  to  judge  for 
myself,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  Be  mine,  be  mine  !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman. 

"  It  can  scarcely  be  expected,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
fixing  her  eyes  modestly  on  the  ground,  "  that  I  should  tell  a 
stranger  whether  I  feel  flattered  and  obliged  by  such  pro- 
posals, or  not.  They  certainly  are  made  under  very  singular 
circumstances ;  still  at  the  same  time,  as  far  as  it  goes,  and  to 
a  certain  extent  of  course  "  (Mrs.  Nickleby's  customary  qual- 
ification), "they  must  be  gratifying  and  agreeable  to  one's 
feelings." 

"  Be  mine,  be  mine,"  cried  the  old  gentleman.  "  Gog  and 
Magog,  Gog  and  Magog.     Be  mine,  be  mine  !  " 

"  It  will  be  sufficient  for  me  to  say,  sir,"  resumed  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  with  perfect  seriousness — "  and  I'm  sure  you'll  see 
the  propriety  of  taking  an  answer  and  going  away — that  I 
have  made  up  my  mind  to  remain  a  widow,  and  to  devote  my- 
self to  my  children.  You  may  not  suppose  I  am  the  mother 
of  two  children — indeed  many  people  have  doubted  it,  and 
said  that  nothing  on  earth  could  ever  make  'em  believe  it  pos- 
sible— but  it  is  the  case,  and  they  are  both  grown  up.  We 
shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you  for  a  neighbor — very  glad ; 
delighted,  I'm  sure — but  in  any  other  character  it's  quite  im- 
possible, quite.  As  to  my  being  young  enough  to  many  again, 
that  perhaps  may  be  so,  or  it  may  not  be  ;  but  I  couldn't  think 
of  it  for  an  instant,  not  on  any  account  whatever.  I  said  I 
never  would,  and  I  never  will.  It's  a  ver}'  pamful  thing  to 
have  to  reject  proposals,  and  I  would  much  rather  that  none 
were  made ;  at  the  same  time  this  is  the  answer  that  I  deter- 
mined long  ago  to  make,  and  this  is  the  answer  I  shall  always 
give." 

These  observations  were  partly  addressed  to  the  old  gen- 
tleman, partly  to  Kate,  and  partly  delivered  in  soliloquy. 
Towards  their  conclusion,  the  suitor  evinced  a  very  irreverent 
degree  of  inattention,  and  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  scarcely  finished 
speaking,  when,  to  the  great  terror  both  of  that  lady  and  her 
daughter,  he  suddenly  flung  off  his  coat,  and  springing  on  the 
top  of  the  wall,  threw  himself  into  an  attitude  which  displayed 
his  small  clothes  and  gray  worsteds  to  the  fullest  advantage, 
and  concluded  by  standing  on  one  leg,  .and  repeating  his 
favorite  bellow  with  increased  vehemence. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  535 

While  he  was  still  dwelling  on  the  last  note,  and  embellish- 
ing it  with  a  prolonged  flourish,  a  dirty  hand  was  observed  to 
glide  stealthily  and  swiftly  along  the  top  of  the  wall,  as  if  in 
pursuit  of  a  fly,  and  then  to  clasp  with  the  utmost  dexterity 
one  of  the  old  gentleman's  ankles.  This  done,  the  companion 
hand  appeared,  and  clasped  the  other  ankle. 

Thus  encumbered  the  old  gentleman  lifted  his  legs  awk- 
wardly once  or  twice,  as  if  they  were  clumsy  and  imperfect 
pieces  of  machinery,  and  then  looking  down  on  his  own  side 
of  the  wall,  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  It's  you,  is  it  ? "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Yes,  it's  me,"  replied  a  gruff  voice. 

"  How's  the  Emperor  of  Tartary  ?  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Oh  !  he's  much  the  same  as  usual,"  was  the  reply.  "  No 
better  and  no  worse." 

"  The  young  Prince  of  China,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
with  much  interest.  "  Is  he  reconciled  to  his  father-in-law, 
the  great  potato  salesman  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  gruff  voice  ;  "  and  he  says  he  never 
will  be,  that's  more." 

"  If  that's  the  case,"  observed  the  old  gentleman,  "  per- 
haps I'd  better  come  down." 

"  Well,"  said  the  man  on  the  other  side,  "  I  think  you  had, 
perhaps." 

One  of  the  hands  being  then  cautiously  unclasped,  the  old 
gentleman  dropped  into  a  sitting  posture,  and  was  looking 
round  to  smile  and  bow  to  Mrs.  Nickleby,  when  he  disap- 
peared with  some  precipitation,  as  if  his  legs  had  been  pulled 
from  below. 

Very  much  relieved  by  his  disappearance,  Kate  was  turn- 
ing to  speak  to  her  mama,  when  the  dirty  hands  again  became 
visible,  and  were  immediately  followed  by  the  figure  of  a 
coarse  squat  man,  who  ascended  by  the  steps  which  had  been 
recently  occupied  by  their  singular  neighbor. 

"  Beg  you  pardon,  ladies,"  said  this  new  comer,  grinning 
and  touching  his  hat.  "  Has  he  been  making  love  to  either 
of  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Kate. 

"  Ah  !  "  rejoined  the  man,  taking  his  handkerchief  out  of 
his  hat  and  wiping  his  face,  "  he  always  will,  you  know. 
Nothing  will  prevent  his  making  love." 

"  I  need  not  ask  you  if  he  is  out  of  his  mind,  poor  crea- 
ture," said  Kate. 


236  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"Why  no,"  replied  the  man,  looking  into  his  hat,  throwing 
his  handkerchief  in  at  one  dab,  and  putting  it  on  again. 
"That's  pretty  plain,  that  is." 

"  Has  he  been  long  so  ?  "  asked  Kate. 

"  A  long  while." 

"  And  is  there  no  hope  for  him  t "  said  Kate,  compas- 
sionately. 

"Not  a  bit,  and  don't  deserve  to  be,"  replied  the  keeper. 
"  He's  a  deal  pleasanter  without  his  senses  than  with  'em. 
He  was  the  cruellest,  wickedest,  out-and-outerest  old  flint  that 
ever  drawed  breath." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Kate. 

"  By  George  !  "  replied  the  keeper,  shaking  his  head  so 
emphatically  that  he  was  obliged  to  frown  to  keep  his  hat  on, 
"  I  never  came  across  such  a  vagabond,  and  my  mate  says 
the  same.  Broke  his  poor  wife's  heart,  turned  his  daughters 
out  of  doors,  drove  his  sons  into  the  streets  ;  it  was  a  blessing 
he  went  mad  at  last,  through  evil  tempers,  and  covetousness, 
and  selfishness,  and  guzzling,  and  drinking,  or  he'd  have 
drove  many  others  so.  Hope  for  Aim,  an  old  rip  !  There 
isn't  too  much  hope  going,  but  I'll  bet  a  crown  that  what  there 
is,  is  saved  for  more  deserving  chaps  than  him,  anyhow  " 

With  which  confession  of  his  faith,  the  keeper  shook  his 
head  again,  as  much  as  to  say  that  nothing  short  of  this  would 
do,  if  things  were  to  go  on  at  all ;  and  touching  his  hat 
sulkily — not  that  he  was  in  ill  humor,  but  that  his  subject 
ruffled  him — descended  the  ladder,  and  took  it  away. 

During  this  conversation,  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  regarded  the 
man  with  a  severe  and  steadfast  look.  She  now  heaved  a  pro- 
found sigh,  and  pursing  up  her  lips,  shook  her  head  in  a  slow 
and  doubtful  manner. 

"  Poor  creature  !  "  said  Kate. 

"Ah!  poor  indeed!"  rejoined  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "It's 
shameful  that  such  things  should  be  allowed.     Shameful  !  " 

"  How  can  they  be  helped,  mama  ?  "  said  Kate,  mournfully. 
"The  infirmities  of  nature — " 

"  Nature  !  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  What !  Do  you  sup- 
pose this  poor  gentleman  is  out  of  his  mind  ?  " 

"  Can  anybody  who  sees  him  entertain  any  other  opinion, 
mama?" 

"  Why  then,  I  just  tell  you  this,  Kate,"  returned  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  "  that  he  is  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  I  am  surprised 
you  can  be  so  imposed  upon.     It's  some  plot  of  these  people 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


537 


to  possess  themselves  of  his  property — didn't  he  say  so  him- 
self ?  He  may  be  a  little  odd  and  flighty,  perhaps,  many  of 
us  are  that ;  but  downright  mad !  and  express  himself  as  he 
does,  respectfully,  and  in  quite  poetical  language,  and  making 
offers  with  so  much  thought,  and  care,  and  prudence — not  as 
if  he  ran  into  the  streets,  and  went  down  upon  his  knees  to 
the  first  chit  of  a  girl  he  met,  as  a  madman  would  !  No,  no, 
Kate,  there's  a  great  deal  too  much  method  in  his  madness ; 
depend  upon  that,  my  dear." 


CHAPTER  XLH. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  OF    THE  CONVIVIAL    SENTIMENT,  THAT   THE  BEST 
OF    FRIENDS  MUST    SOMETIMES  PART. 

The  pavement  of  Snow  Hill  had  been  baking  and  frying 
all  day  in  the  heat,  and  the  twain  Saracens'  heads  guarding  the 
entrance  to  the  hostelry  of  whose  name  and  sign  they  are  the 
duplicate  presentiments,  looked — or  seemed  in  the  eyes  of  jaded 
and  foot-sore  passers-by,  to  look — more  vicious  than  usual,  after 
blistering  and  scorching  in  the  sun,  when,  in  one  of  the  inn's 
smallest  sitting-rooms,  through  whose  open  window  there  rose, 
in  a  palpable  steam,  wholesome  exhalations  from  reeking 
coach-horses,  the  usual  furniture  of  a  tea-table  was  displayed 
in  neat  and  inviting  order,  flanked  by  large  joints  of  roast  and 
boiled,  a  tongue,  a  pigeon-pie,  a  cold  fowl,  a  tankard  of  ale, 
and  other  little  matters  of  the  like  kind,  which,  in  degenerate 
towns  and  cities,  are  generally  understood  to  belong  more 
particularly  to  solid  lunches,  stage-coach  dinners,  or  unusually 
substantial  breakfasts. 

Mr.  John  Browdie,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  hovered 
restlessly  about  these  delicacies,  stopping  occasionally  to 
whisk  the  flies  out  of  the  sugar-basin  with  his  wife's  pocket- 
handkerchief,  or  to  dip  a  tea-spoon  in  the  milk-pot  and  carry 
it  to  his  mouth,  or  to  cut  off  a  little  knob  of  crust,  and  a  little 
corner  of  meat,  and  swallow  them  at  two  gulps  like  a  couple 
of  pills.  After  every  one  of  these  flirtations  with  tlie  eatables, 
he  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  declared  with  an  earnestness 
quite  pathetic  that  he  couldn't  undertake  to  hold  out  two 
minutes  longer. 


C38  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  'Tilly  !  "  said  John  to  his  lady,  who  was  reclining  half 
awake  and  half  asleep  upon  a  sofa. 

"  Well,  John  !  " 

"  Weel,  John  ! "  retorted  her  husband,  impatiently.  "  Dost 
thou  feel  hoongry,  lass  ?  " 

"  Not  very,"  said  Mrs.  Browdie. 

"  Not  vary  !  "  repeated  John,  raising  his  eyes  to  the  ceil- 
ing. "  Hear  her  say  not  var\%  and  us  dining  at  three,  and 
loonching  off  pasthry  thot  aggravates  a  mon  'stead  of  pacify- 
ing him  !     Not  vary  !  " 

"  Here's  a  gen'l'man  for  you,  sir,"  said  the  waiter,  looking 

in. 

"  A  wa'at,  for  me  ?  "  cried  John,  as  though  he  thought  it 
must  be  a  letter,  or  a  parcel. 

"  A  gen'l'man,  sir." 

"  Stars  and  garthers,  chap  !"  said  John,  "wa'at  dost  thou 
coom  and  say  thot  for  ?     In  wi'  'un." 

"  Are  you  at  home,  sir  .''  " 

"  At  whoam  !  "  cried  John,  "  I  wish  I  wur  ;  I'd  ha'  tea'd 
two  hour  ago.  Why,  I  told  t'oother  chap  to  look  sharp  oot- 
side  door,  and  tell  'un  d'rectly  he  coom,  thot  we  war  faint  wi' 
hoonger.  In  wi'  'un.  Aha  !  Thee  hond,  Misther  Nickleby. 
This  Is  nigh  to  be  the  proodest  day  o'  my  life,  sir.  Hoo  be 
all  wi'  ye  .?     Ding  !     But,  I'm  glod  o'  this  !  " 

Quite  forgetting  even  his  hunger  in  the  heartiness  of  his 
salutation,  John  Browdie  shook  Nicholas  by  the  hand  again 
and  again,  slapping  his  palm  with  great  violence  between  each 
shake,  to  add  warmth  to  the  reception. 

"  Ah  !  there  she  be,"  said  John,  observing  the  look  which 
Nicholas  directed  towards  his  wife.  "There  she  be — we 
shan't  quarrel  about  her  noo — Eh  ?  Ecod,  when  I  think  o' 
thot — but  thou  want'st  soom'at  to  eat.  Fall  to,  mun,  fall  to, 
and  for  wa'at  we're  aboot  to  receive — " 

No  doubt  the  grace  was  properly  finished,  but  nothing 
more  was  heard,  for  John  had  already  begun  to  play  such  a 
knife  and  fork,  that  his  speech  was,  for  the  time,  gone. 

"  I  shall  take  the  usual  license,  Mr.  Browdie,"  said  Nich- 
olas, as  he  placed  a  cliair  for  the  bride. 

"Tak'  whatever  thou  like'st,"  said  John,  "and  when  a's 
gane,  ca'  for  more." 

Without  stopping  to  explain,  Nicholas  kissed  the  blushing 
Mrs.  Browdie,  and  handed  her  to  her  seat. 

"I  say,"  said  John,  rather  astounded  for  the  moment, 
"  niak'  theeself  quite  at  whoam,  will  'ee .''  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


539 


"  You  may  depend  upon  that,"  replied  Nicholas  ;  "  on  one 
condition." 

"And  wa'at  may  thot  be  ?"  asked  John. 

"  That  you  make  me  a  godfather  the  very  first  time  you. 
have  occasion  for  one." 

"  Eh  !  d'ye  hear  thot  !  "  cried  John,  laying  down  his  knife 
and  fork.  "  A  godfeyther  !  Hal' ha!  ha!  Tilly— hear  till 
'un — a  godfeyther  !  Divn't  say  a  word  more,  ye'll  never  beat 
thot.     Occasion  for  'un — a  godfeyther  !     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

Never  was  man  so  tickled  with  a  respectable  old  joke,  as 
John  Browdie  was  with  this.  He  chuckled,  roared,  half- 
suffocated  himself  by  laughing  large  pieces  of  beef  into  his 
wind-pipe,  roared  again,  persisted  in  eating  at  the  same  time, 
got  red  in  the  face  and  black  in  the  forehead,  coughed,  cried, 
got  better,  went  off  again  laughing  inwardly,  got  worse, 
choked,  had  his  back  thumped,  stamped  about,  frightened  his 
wife,  and  at  last  recovered  in  a  state  of  the  last  exhaustion 
and  with  the  water  streaming  from  his  eyes,  but  still  faintly 
ejaculating  "  A  godfeyther — a  godfeyther,  Tilly  !  "  in  a  tone 
bespeaking  an  exquisite  relish  of  the  sally,  which  no  suffering 
could  diminish. 

"  You  remember  the  night  of  our  first  tea-drinking  ?  "  said 
Nicholas. 

"Shall  I  e'er  forget  it,  mun?"  replied  John  Browdie. 

"  He  was  a  desperate  fellow  that  night  though,  was  he 
not,  Mrs.  Browdie  ?  "  said  Nicholas.     "  Quite  a  monster  ?  " 

"  If  you  had  only  heard  him  as  we  were  going  home,  Mr. 
Nickleby,  you'd  have  said  so  indeed,"  returned  the  bride.  "  I 
never  was  so  frightened  in  all  my  life." 

"  Coom,  coom,"  said  John,  with  a  broad  grin;  "thou 
know'st  betther  than  thot,  Tilly." 

"So  I  was,"  replied  Mrs.  Browdie.  "I  almost  made  up 
my  mind  never  to  speak  to  you  again." 

"  A'most  !  "  said  John,  with  a  broader  grin  than  the  last. 
"  A'most  made  up  her  mind  !  And  she  wur  coaxin',  and  coax- 
in,'  and  wheedlin',  and  wheedlin'  a'  the  blessed  wa'.  'Wa'at 
didst  thou  let  yon  chap  mak'  oop  tiv'ee  for  ?  '  says  I.  '  I 
deedn't,  John,'  says  she,  a  squeedgin  my  arm.  '  You  deedn't,' 
says  I.     '  Noa,'  says  she,  a  squeedgin  of  me  agean." 

"  Lor,  John  !  "  interposed  his  pretty  wife,  coloring  very 
much.  "  How  can  you  talk  such  nonsense  ?  As  if  I  should 
have  dreamt  of  such  a  thing !  " 

"  I  dinnot  know  whether  thou'd  ever  dreamt  of  it,  though 


240  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

I  think  that's  loike  eneaf,  mind,"  retorted  John  ;  "  but  thou 
didst  it.  '  Ye're  a  feeckle,  changeable  weathercock,  lass,' 
says  I.  *  Not  feeckle,  John,'  says  she.  '  Yes,'  says  I, 
'feeckle,  dom'd  feeckle.  Dinnot  tell  me  thou  bean't,  efther 
yon  chap  at  schoolmeasther's,'  says  I.  '  Him  ! '  says  she, 
quite  screeching.  '  Ah  !  him  ! '  says  I.  '  Why,  John,'  says 
she — and  she  coom  a  deal  closer  and  squeedged  a  deal  harder 
than  she'd  deane  afore — '  dost  thou  think  it's  nat'ral  noo,  that 
having  such  a  proper  mun  as  thou  to  keep  company  wi',  I'd 
ever  tak'  oop  wi'  such  a  leetle  scanty  whipper-snapper  as 
yon  ?  '  she  says.  Ha !  ha  !  ha  !  She  said  whipper-snapper  ! 
'  Ecod  !  '  I  say,  '  efther  thot,  neame  the  day,  and  let's  have  it 
ower!'     Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

Nicholas  laughed  very  heartily  at  this  story,  both  on  ac- 
count of  its  telling  against  himself,  and  his  being  desirous  to 
spare  the  blushes  of  Mrs.  Browdie,  whose  protestations  were 
drowned  in  peals  of  laughter  from  her  husband.  His  good- 
nature soon  put  her  at  her  ease  ;  and  although  she  still  denied 
the  charge,  she  laughed  so  heartily  at  it,  that  Nicholas  had  the 
satisfaction  of  feeling  assured  that  in  all  essential  respects  it 
was  strictly  true. 

''  This  is  the  second  time,  that  we  have  ever  taken  a  meal 
together,  and  only  the  third  I  have  ever  seen  you  ;  and  yet 
it  really  seems  to  me  as  if  I  were  among  old  friends." 

"  Weel  !  "  observed  the  Yorkshireman,  "  so  I  say." 

"And  I  am  sure  I  do,"  added  his  young  wife. 

"  I  have  the  best  reason  to  be  impressed  with  the  feeling, 
mind,"  said  Nicholas,  "  for  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  kind- 
ness of  heart,  my  good  friend,  when  I  had  no  right  or  reason 
to  expect  it,  I  know  not  what  might  have  become  of  me  or 
what  plight  I  should  have  been  in  by  this  time." 

"Talk  aboot  soom'at  else,"  replied  John,  gruffly,  "and 
dinnot  bother." 

"  It  must  be  a  new  song  to  the  same  tune  then,"  said  Nich- 
olas, smiling.  "I  told  you  in  my  letter  that  I  deeply  felt  and 
admired  your  sympathy  with  that  poor  lad,  whom  you  released 
at  the  risk  of  involving  yourself  in  trouble  and  difficulty  ;  but 
I  can  never  tell  you  how  grateful  he  and  I,  and  others  whom 
you  don't  know,  are  to  you  for  taking  pity  on  him." 

"  Ecod  !  "  rejoined  John  Browdie,  drawing  up  his  chair  ; 
"  and  I  can  never  \.^\\  you  hoo  grateful  soom  folks  that  we  do 
know  would  be  loikewise,  if  thev  know'd  I  had  takken  pity  on 
him." 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEB  V.  ^  4 1 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Browdie,  "  what  a  state  I  was  in, 
that  night !  " 

"  Were  they  at  all  disposed  to  give  you  credit  for  assisting 
in  the  escape  ? "  inquired  Nicholas  of  John  Browdie. 

"Not  a  bit,"  replied  the  Yorkshireman,  extending  his 
mouth  from  ear  to  ear.  "There  I  la}^  snoog  in  schoolmeas- 
ther's  bed  long  efther  it  was  dark,  and  nobody  coom  nigh  the 
pleace.  '  Weel !  '  thinks  I,  '  he's  got  a  pretty  good  start,  and 
if  he  bean't  whoam  by  noo,  he  never  will  be  ;  so  you  may 
coom  as  quick  as  you  loike,  and  foind  us  reddy  ' — that  is,  you 
know,  schoolmeasther  might  coom." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Presently,"  resumed  John,  "  he  did  coom.  I  heerd  door 
shut  doon  stairs,  and  him  a  warking  oop  in  the  daark.  '  Slow 
and  steddy,'  I  says  to  myself,  '  tak  your  time,  sir — no  hurry.' 
He  cooms  to  the  door,  turns  the  key — turns  the  key  when 
there  warn't  nothing  to  hoold  the  lock  ! — and  ca's  oot  '  Hallo, 
there  ! ' — '  Yes,'  thinks  I,  '  you  may  do  thot  agean,  and  not 
wakken  anybody,  sir.'  '  Hallo,  there  ! '  he  says,  and  then  he 
stops.  '  Thou'd  betther  not  aggravate  me,'  says  schoolmeas- 
ther, efhter  a  little  time.  '  I'll  brak'  every  boan  in  your  boddy, 
Smike,'  he  says  efther  another  little  time.  Then  all  of  a 
soodden,  he  sings  oot  for  a  loight,  and  when  it  cooms — ecod, 
such  a  hoorly-boorly  !  '  Wa'at's  the  matter? '  says  I.  '  He's 
gane,'  says  he, — stark  mad  wi'  vengeance.  '  Ha\-e  you  heerd 
nought .''  '  '  Ees,'  says  I,  '  I  heerd  street  door  shut,  no  time 
at  a'  ago.  I  heerd  a  person  run  doon  there  '  (pointing  t'other 
wa' — eh  ?)  '  Help  ! '  he  cries.  '  I'll  help  you,'  says  I  ;  and 
off  we  set — the  wrong  wa' !     Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  " 

"  Did  you  go  far  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  Far  !  "  replied  John  ;  "  I  run  him  clean  off  his  legs  in 
quarther  of  an  hoor.  To  see  old  schoolmeasther  wi'out  his 
hat,  skimming  along  oop  to  his  knees  in  mud  and  wather, 
tumbling  over  fences,  and  rowling  into  ditches,  and  bawling 
oot  like  mad,  wi'  his  one  eye  looking  sharp  out  for  the  lad, 
and  his  coat-tails  flying  out  behind,  and  him  spattered  wi'  mud 
all  ower,  face  and  all !  I  thot  I  should  ha'  dropped  doon,  and 
killed  myself  wi'  laughing." 

John  laughed  so  heartily  at  the  mere  recollection,  that  he 
communicated  the  contagion  to  both  his  hearers,  and  all  three 
burst  into  peals  of  laughter,  which  were  renewed  agam  and 
again,  until  they  could  laugh  no  longer. 

"  He's  a  bad  'un,  a  very  bad  'un,  is  schoolmeasther," 


242  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  him,  John,"  said  his  wife, 

"  Coom,"  retorted  John,  "  thot's  tidy  in  you,  thot  is.  If 
it  wa'nt  along  o'  you,  we  shouldn't  know  nought  aboot  'un. 
Thou  know'd  'un  first,  Tilly,  didn't  thou  ?" 

"I  couldn't  help  knowing  Fanny  Squeers,  John,"  returned 
his  wife  ;  "  she  was  an  old  playmate  of  mine,  you  know." 

"  Weel,"  replied  John,  "  didn't  I  say  so,  lass  ?  It's  best 
to  be  neighborly,  and  keep  up  old  acquaintance  loike  ;  and 
what  I  say  is,  dean't  quarrel  if  'ee  can  help  it.  Dinnot  think 
so,  Mr.  Nickleby  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  returned  Nicholas  ;  "  and  you  acted  upon 
that  principle  when  I  met  you  on  horseback  on  the  road,  after 
our  memorable  evening." 

"  Sure-ly,"  said  John.     "  Wa'at  I  say,  I  stick  by." 

"  And   that's   a  fine   thing  to   do,   and  manly   too,"   said 

Nicholas,    "  though   it's  not   exactly  what  we  understand   by 

'  coming  Yorkshire   over  us '   in    London.     Miss   Squeers  is 

stopping  with  you,  you  said  in  your  note." 

^----^     "Yes,"  replied  John,   "Tilly's  bridesmaid;  and  a  queer 

/     bridesmaid  she  be,  too.     She  wean't  be  a  bride  in  a  hurry,  I 

(__^^eckon." 

"For  shame,  John,"  said  Mrs.  Browdie  ;  with  an  acute 
perception  of  the  joke  though,  being  a  bride  herself. 

"  The  groom  will  be  a  blessed  mun,"  said  John,  his  eyes 
twinkling  at  the  idea.     "  He'll  be  in  luck,  he  will." 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  his  wife,  "  that  it  was  in 
consequence  of  her  being  here,  that  John  wrote  to  you  and 
fixed  to-night,  because  we  thought  that  it  wouldn't  be  pleas- 
ant for  you  to  meet,  after  what  has  passed." 

"  Unquestionably.  You  were  quite  right  in  that,"  said 
Nicholas,  interrupting. 

"  Especially,"  observed  Mrs.  Browdie,  looking  very  sly, 
"  after  what  we  know  about  past  and  gone  love  matters." 

"  We  know,  indeed !  "  said  Nicholas,  shaking  his  head. 
"You  behaved  rather  wickedly  there,  I  suspect." 

"  O'  course  she  did,"  said  John  Browdie,  passing  his  huge 
fore-finger  through  one  of  his  wife's  pretty  ringlets,  and  look- 
ing very  proud  of  her.  "  She  wur  always  as  skittish  and  full 
o'  tricks  as  a " 

"  Well,  as  a  what  ?  "  said  his  wife. 

"As  a  woman,"  returned  John.  "Ding!  But  I  dinnot 
know  ought  else  tliat  cooms  nigh  it." 

"You  were  speaking  about  Miss  Squeers,"  said  Nicholas, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


543 


with  the  view  of  stopping  some  sUght  connubialities  which 
had  begun  to  pass  between  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browdie,  and  which 
rendered  the  position  of  a  third  party  in  some  degree  embar- 
rassing, as  occasioning  him  to  feel  rather  in  the  way  than 
otherwise. 

"  Oh  yes,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Browdie.  "  John  ha'  done.  John 
fixed  to-night,  because  she  had  settled  that  she  would  go  and 
drink  tea  with  her  father.  And  to  make  quite  sure  of  there 
being  nothing  amiss,  and  of  your  being  quite  alone  with  us, 
he  settled  to  go  out  there  and  fetch  her  home." 

"  That  was  a  very  good  arrangement,"  said  Nicholas, 
"  though  I  am  sorry  to  be  the  occasion  of  so  much  trouble." 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world,"  returned  Mrs.  Browdie  ;  "  for 
we  have  looked  forward  to  seeing  you — John  and  I  have,  with 
the  greatest  possible  pleasure.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Nickleby," 
said  Mrs.  Browdie,  with  the  archest  smile,  "  that  I  really  think 
Fanny  Squeers  was  very  fond  of  you  ?  " 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  her,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "but 
upon  my  word,  I  never  aspired  to  making  any  impression  upon 
her  virgin  heart." 

"  How  you  talk  !  "  tittered  Mrs.  Browdie.  "  No,  but  do 
you  know  that  really — seriously  now  and  without  any  joking 
— I  was  given  to  understand  by  Fanny  herself,  that  you  had 
made  an  offer  to  her,  and  that  you  two  were  going  to  be  en- 
gaged quite  solemn  and  regular." 

"  Was  you,  ma'am — was  you  ?  "  cried  a  shrill  female  voice, 
"  was  you  given  to  understand  that  I — I — was  going  to  be  en- 
gaged to  an  assassinating  thief  that  shed  the  gore  of  my  pa  ? 
Do  you — do  you  think,  ma'am — that  I  was  very  fond  of  such 
dirt  beneath  my  feet,  as  I  couldn't  condescend  to  touch  with 
kitchen  tongs,  without  blackening  and  crocking  myself  by  the 
contract  ?  Do  you,  ma'am  ?  Do  you  ?  Oh,  base  and  degrad- 
ing 'Tilda !  " 

With  these  reproaches  Miss  Squeers  flung  the  door  wide 
open,  and  disclosed  to  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  Browdies 
and  Nicholas,  not  only  her  own  symmetrical  form,  arrayed  in 
the  chaste  white  garments  before  described,  (a  little  dirtier) 
but  the  form  of  her  brother  and  father,  the  pair  of  Wackfords. 

"  This  is  the  hend,  is  it  ?  "  continued  Miss  Squeers,  who, 
being  excited,  aspirated  her  h's  strongly  ;  "  this  is  the  hend, 
is  it,  of  all  my  forbearance  and  friendship  for  that  double- 
faced  thing  —  that  viper,  that  —  that^ — mermaid?"  (Miss 
Squeers  hesitated  a  long  time  for  this  last  epithet,  and  brought 


544 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


it  out  triumphantly  at  last,  as  if  it  quite  clinched  the  business.) 
"  This  is  the  hend,  is  it,  of  all  my  bearing  with  her  deceitful- 
ness,  her  lowness,  her  falseness,  her  laying  herself  out  to  catch 
the  admiration  of  vulgar  minds,  in  a  way  which  made  me 

blush  for  my — for  my " 

"  Gender,"  suggested  Mr.  Squeers,  regarding  the  spectators 
with  a  malevolent  eye  ;  literally  a  malevolent  eye. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Squeers  ;  "but  I  thank  my  stars  that  my 
ma'  is  of  the  same." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  remarked  Mr.  Squeers  \  "  and  I  wish  she 
was  here  to  have  a  scratch  at  this  company." 

"  This  is  the  hend,  is  it,"  said  Miss  Squeers,  tossing  her 
head,  and  looking  contemptuously  at  the  floor,  "  of  my  taking 
notice  of  that  rubbishing  creature,  and  demeaning  myself  to 
patronize  her  ? " 

"  Oh,  come,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Browdie,  disregarding  all  the 
endeavors  of  her  spouse  to  restrain  her,  and  forcing  herself 
into  a  front  row,  "don't  talk  such  nonsense  as  that." 

"  Have  I  not  patronized  you,  ma'am  ?  "  demanded  Miss 
Squeers. 

"  No,"  returned  Mrs.  Browdie. 

"  I  will  not  look  for  blushes  in  such  a  quarter,"  said  Miss 
Squeers,  haughtily,  "for  that  countenance  is  a  stranger  to 
everything  but  hignominiousness  and  red-faced  boldness." 

"  I  say,"  interposed  John  Browdie,  nettled  by  these  ac- 
cumulated attacks  on  his  wife,  "  dra'  it  mild,  dra'  it  mild." 

"You,  Mr.  Browdie,"  said  Miss  Squeers,   taking  him  up 
very  quickly,  "  I  pity.     I  have  no  feeling  for  you,  sir,  but  one 
of  unliquidated  pity." 
"  Oh  !  "  said  John. 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Squeers,  looking  sideways  at  her  parent, 
"  although  I  am  a  queer  bridesmaid,  and  shati't  be  a  bride  in 
a  huny,  and  although  my  husband  will  be  in  luck,  I  enter- 
tain, no  sentiments  towards  you,  sir,  but  sentiments  of  pity." 
Here  Miss  Squeers  looked  sideways  at  her  father  again, 
who  looked  sideways  at  her,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  There  you 
had  him.' 

"  /  know  what  you've  got  to  go  through,"  said  Miss 
Squeers,  shaking  her  curls  violently,  "  /  know  what  life  is 
before  you,  and  if  you  was  my  bitterest  and  deadliest  enemy, 
I  could  wish  you  nothing  worse." 

"  Couldn't  you  wish  to  be  married  to  him  yourself,  if  that 
was  the  case  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Browdie,  with  great  suavity  of 
manner. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  ^4^ 

"Oh,  ma'am,  how  witty  you  are,"  retorted  Miss  Squeers 
with  a  low  curtsey,  "  ahnost  as  witty,  ma'am,  as  you  are  clever. 
How  very  clever  it  was  in  3'ou,  ma'am,  to  choose  a  time  when 
I  had  gone  to  tea  with  my  pa',  and  was  sure  not  to  come  back, 
without  being  fetched  !  What  a  pity  you  never  thought  that 
other  people  might  be  as  clever  as  yourself  and  spoil  your 
plans  ! " 

"  You  won't  vex  me,  child,  with  such  airs  as  these,"  said 
the  late  Miss  Price,  assuming  the  matron. 

"  Don't  Missis  me,  ma'am,  if  you  please,"  returned  Miss 
Squeers,  sharply.     "  I'll  not  bear  it.     Is  this  the  hend — " 

"  Dang  it  a',"  cried  John  Browdie,  impatiently.  "  Say 
thee  say  out,  Fanny,  and  mak  sure  it's  the  end,  and  dinnot 
ask  nobody  whether  it  is  or  not." 

"  Thanking  you  for  your  advice  which  was  not  required, 
Mr.  Browdie,"  returned  Miss  Squeers,  with  laborious  polite- 
ness, "  have  the  goodness  not  to  presume  to  meddle  with  my 
christian  name.  Even  my  pity  shall  never  make  me  forget 
what's  due  to  myself,  Mr.  Browdie.  'Tilda,"  said  Miss 
Squeers,  with  such  a  sudden  accession  of  violence  that  John 
started  in  his  boots,  "  I  throw  you  off  forever,  Miss.  I  aban- 
don you.  I  renounce  you.  I  wouldn't,"  cried  Miss  Squeers 
in  a  solemn  voice,  "  have  a  child  named  'Tilda,  not  to  save 
it  from  its  grave." 

"  As  for  the  matther  o'  that,"  observed  John,  "  it'll  be 
time  eneaf  to  think  aboot  neaming  of  it  when  it  cooms." 

"  John  !  "  interposed  his  wife,  "  don't  tease  her." 

"  Oh  1  Tease,  indeed  !  "  cried  Miss  Squeers,  bridling  up. 
"  Tease,  indeed  !  He,  he  !  Tease,  too  !  No,  don't  tease 
her.     Consider  her  feelings,  pray  !  " 

"  If  it's  fated  that  listeners  are  never  to  hear  any  good  of 
themselves,"  said  Mrs.  Browdie,  "  I  can't  help  it,  and  I  am 
very  sorry  for  it.  But  I  will  say,  Fanny,  that  times  out  of 
number  I  have  spoken  so  kindly  of  3'ou  behind  your  back,  that 
even  you  could  have  found  no  fault  with  what  I  said." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  not,  ma'am  !  "  cried  Miss  Squeers,  with 
another  curtsey.  "  Best  thanks  to  you  for  37our  goodness, 
and  begging  and  praying  you  not  to  be  hard  upon  me  an- 
other time  !  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  resumed  Mrs.  Browdie,  "  that  I  have 
said  anything  very  bad  of  you  even  now.  At  all  events,  what 
I  did  say  was  quite  true  ;  but  if  I  have,  I  am  very  sorry  for 
it,  and  I  beg  your  pardon.      You   have   said   much  worse   of 

35 


546 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


me,  scores  of  times,  Fanny,  but  I  have  never  borne  any 
malice  to  you,  and  I  hope  you'll  not  bear  any  to  me." 

Miss  Squeers  made  no  more  direct  reply  than  surveying 
her  former  friend  from  top  to  toe,  and  elevating  her  nose  in 
the  air  with  ineffable  disdain.  But  some  indistinct  allusions 
to  a  '  puss,'  and  a  '  minx,'  and  a  'contemptible  creature,'  es- 
caped her ;  and  this,  together  with  a  severe  biting  of  the  lips, 
great  difficulty  in  swallowing,  and  very  frequent  comings  and 
goings  of  breath,  seemed  to  imply  that  feelings  were  swelling 
in  Miss  Squeers's  bosom  too  great  for  utterance. 

While  the  foregoing  conversation  was  proceeding.  Master 
Wackford,  finding  himself  unnoticed,  and  feeling  his  prepon- 
derating  inclinations  strong  upon  him,  had  by  little  and  little 
sidled  up  to  the  table  and  attacked  the  food  with  such  slight 
skirmishing  as  drawing  his  fingers  round  and  round  the  inside 
of  the  plates,  and  afterwards  sucking  them  with  infinite  relish  ; 
picking  the  bread,  and  dragging  the  pieces  over  the  surface  of 
the  butter  ;  pocketing  lumps  of  sugar,  pretending  all  the  time 
to  be  absorbed  in  thought  ;  and  so  forth.  Finding  that  no 
interference  was  attempted  with  these  small  liberties,  he  grad- 
ually mounted  to  greater,  and,  after  helping  himself  to  a  mod- 
erately good  cold  collation,  was,  by  this  time,  deep  in  the  pie. 

Nothing  of  this  had  been  unobserved  by  Mr.  Squeers,  who, 
so  long  as  the  attention  of  the  company  was  fixed  upon  other 
objects,  hugged  himself  to  think  that  his  son  and  heir  should 
be  fattening  at  the  enemy's  expense.  But  there  being  now 
an  appearance  of  a  temporary  calm,  in  which  the  proceedings 
of  little  Wackford  could  scarcely  fail  to  be  observ^ed,  he 
feigned  to  be  aware  of  the  circumstance  for  the  first  time,  and 
infiicted  upon  the  face  of  that  young  gentleman  a  slap  that 
made  the  very  teacups  ring. 

"  Eating,"  cried  Mr.  Squeers,  "  of  what  his  father's  enemies 
has  left  !     It's  fit  to  go  and  poison  you,  you  unnat'ral  boy." 

"Itwean't  hurt  him,"  said  John,  apparently  very  much 
relieved  by  the  prospect  of  having  a  man  in  the  quarrel  ;  "  let 
'un  eat.  I  wish  the  whole  school  was  here.  I'd  give  'em 
soom"ut  to  stay  their  unfort'nate  stomachs  wi',  if  I  spent  the 
last  penny  I  had  !  " 

Squeers  scowled  at  him  with  the  worst  and  most  malicious 
expression  of  which  his  face  was  capable — it  was  a  face  of  re- 
markable capability,  too,  in  llial  way — and  shook  his  fist 
stealthily. 

"  Coom,  coom,  schoolmeasther,"  said  John,  "dinnot  make 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


547 


a  fool   o'  thyself  ;  for  if  I  was   to   sheake  mine — only  once — ■ 
thou'cl  fa'  doon  \vi'  the  wind  o'  it." 

"  It  was  you,  was  it,"  returned  Squeers,  "that  helped  off 
my  runaway  boy  ?     It  was  you,  was  it  ?  " 

"  Me  !  "  returned  John,  in  a  loud  tone.  "  Yes,  it  wa'  me, 
coom  ;  wa'at  o'  that  !     It  wa'  me.     Noo  then  !  " 

"  You  hear  him  say  he  did  it,  my  child  !  "  said  Squeers, 
appealing  to  his  daughter.     "  You  hear  him  say  he  did  it !  " 

"  Did  it !  "  cried  John.  "  I'll  tell  'ee  more  ;  hear  this,  too. 
If  thou'd  get  another  roonaway  boy,  I'd  do  it  agean.  If 
thou'd  got  twonty  roonaway  boys,  I'd  do  it  twenty  times  ower, 
and  twonty  more  to  thot ;  and  I'll  tell  thee  more,"  said  John, 
"noo  my  blood  is  oop,  that  thou't  an  old  ra'ascal ;  and  that 
it's  weel  for  thou,  thou  be'st'an  old  'un,  or  I'd  ha  poonded 
thee  to  flour  when  thou  told  an  honest  mun  hoo'  thou'd  licked 
that  poor  chap  in  t'  cooach." 

"  An  honest  man  !  "  cried  Squeers,  with  a  sneer. 

"Ah!  An  honest  man,"  replied  John  ;  "honest  in  ought 
but  ever  putting  legs  under  seame  table  wi'  such  as  thou." 

"  Scandal !  "  said  Squeers,  exultingly.  "  Two  witnesses  to 
it  ;  Wackford  knows  the  nature  of  an  oath,  he  does  ;  we  shall 
have  you  there,  sir.  Rascal,  eh?"  Mr.  Squeers  took  out  his 
pocket-book,  and  made  a  note  of  it.  "  Very  good.  I  should 
say  that  was  worth  full  twenty  pound  at  the  next  assizes,  with- 
out the  honesty,  sir." 

"  'Seizes,"  cried  John,  "  thou'd  betther  not  talk  to  me  o' 
'Soizes.  Yorkshire  schools  have  been  shown  up  at  'Soizes 
afore  noo,  mun,  and  it's  a  ticklish  soobjact  to  revive,  I  can 
tell  ye." 

Mr.  Squeers  shook  his  head  in  a  threatening  manner,  look- 
ing very  white  with  passion  ;  and  taking  his  daughter's  arm, 
and  dragging  little  Wackford  by  the  hand,  retreated  towards 
the  door. 

"As  for  you,"  said  Squeers,  turning  round  and  addressing 
Nicholas,  who,  as  he  had  caused  him  to  smart  pretty  soundly 
on  a  former  occasion,  purposely  abstained  from  taking  any 
part  in  the  discussion,  "  see  if  I  ain't  down  upon  you  before 
long.  You'll  go  a  kidnapping  of  boys,  will  you  ?  Take  care 
their  fathers  don't  turn  up — mark  that — take  care  their 
fathers  don't  turn  up,  and  send  'em  back  to  me  to  do  as  I  like 
with,  in  spite  of  you." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  that,"  replied  Nicholas,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  contemptuously,  and  turning  away. 


548 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


"  Ain't  you  !  "  retorted  Squeers,  with  a  diabolical  look. 
"  Now  then,  come  along." 

"  I  leave  such  society,  with  my  pa',  for  //ever,"  said  Miss 
Squeers,  looking  contemptuously  and  loftily  round.  "  I  am 
defiled  by  breathing  the  air  with  such  creatures.  Poor  Mr. 
Browdie  !  He  !  he  !  he  !  I  do  pity  him,  that  I  do  ;  he's  so 
deluded  !     He  !  he  !  he  ! Artful  and  designing  'Tilda  !  " 

With  this  sudden  relapse  into  the  sternest  and  most  majes- 
tic wrath.  Miss  Squeers  swept  from  the  room  ;  and  having 
sustained  her  dignity  until  the  last  possible  moment,  was  heard 
to  sob  and  scream  and  struggle  in  the  passage. 

John  Browdie  remained  standing  behmd  the  table,  looking 
from  his  wife  to  Nicholas,  and  back  again,  with  his  mouth 
wide  open,  until  his  hand  accidentally  fell  upon  the  tankard 
of  ale.  He  took  it  up,  and  having  obscured  his  features  there- 
with for  some  time,  drew  a  long  breath,  handed  it  over  to 
Nicholas,  and  rang  the  bell. 

"Here,  waither,"  said  John  briskly.  "Look  alive  here, 
Tak'  these  thing  awa',  and  let's  have  soomat  broiled  for  sooper 
— vary  coomfortable  and  plenty  o'  it — at  ten  o'clock.  Bring 
soom  brandy  and  soom  wather,  and  a  pair  o'  slippers — the 
largest  pair  in  the  house — and  be  quick  aboot  it.  Dash  ma' 
wig  !  "  said  John,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  there's  no  ganging  oot 
to  neeght,  noo,  to  fetch  anybody  whoam.  and  ecod  we'll  begin 
to  spend  the  evening  in  airnest ! " 


CHAPTER  XLHI. 


OFFICIATES    AS    A    KIND     OF     GENTLEMAN    USHER,    IN    BRINGING 
VARIOUS    PEOPLE    TOGETHER. 

The  storm  had  long  given  place  to  a  calm  the  most  profound, 
and  the  evening  was  pretty  far  advanced — indeed  supper  was 
over,  and  the  process  of  digestion  proceeding  as  favorably  as, 
under  the  influence  of  complete  tranquillity,  cheerful  conversa- 
tion, and  a  moderate  allowance  of  brandy  and  water,  most 
wise  men  conversant  with  the  anatomy  and  functions  of  the 
human  frame  will  consider  that  it  ought  to  have  proceeded, 
when  the  three  friends,  or  as  one  might  say,  both   in   a  civil 


lYICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  c,  49 

and  religious  sense,  and  witli  proper  deference  and  regard  to 
the  holy  state  of  matrimony,  tlie  two  friends  (Mr.  and  ;\Irs. 
Browdie  counting  as  no  more  than  one),  were  startled  by  the 
noise  of  loud  and  angry  threatenings  below  stairs,  which  pres- 
ently attained  so  high  a  pitch,  and  were  conveyed  besides  in 
language  so  towering,  sanguinary  and  ferocious,  that  it  could 
hardly  have  been  surpassed,  if  there  had  actually  been  a  Sara- 
cen's head  then  present  in  the  establishment,  supported  on  the 
shoulders  and  surmounting  the  trunk  of  a  real  live,  furious, 
and  most  unappeasable  Saracen. 

This  turmoil,  instead  of  quickly  subsiding  after  the  first 
outburst  (as  turmoils  not  unfrequently  do,  whether  in  taverns, 
legislative  assemblies,  or  elsewhere),  into  a  mere  grumbling 
and  growling  squabble,  increased  every  moment ;  and  although 
the  whole  din  appeared  to  be  raised  by  but  one  pair  of  lungs, 
yet  that  one  pair  was  of  so  powerful  a  quality,  and  repeated 
such  words  as  "scoundrel,"  "rascal,"  "insolent  puppy,"  and 
a  \-ariety  of  expletives  no  less  flattering  to  the  party  addressed, 
with  such  great  relish  and  strength  of  tone,  that  a  dozen  voices 
raised  in  concert  under  ordinary  circumstances  would  have 
made  far  less  uproar  and  created  much  smaller  consternation. 

"  Wh}',  what's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Nicholas,  moving  towards 
the  door. 

John  Browdie  was  striding  in  the  same  direction  when 
Mrs.  Browdie  turned  pale,  and  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  re- 
quested him  with  a  faint  voice  to  take  notice,  that  if  he  ran 
into  any  danger  it  was  her  intention  to  fall  into  hysterics  im- 
mediately, and  that  the  consequences  might  be  more  serious 
than  he  thought  for,  John  looked  rather  disconcerted  by  this 
intelligence,  though  there  was  a  lurking  grin  on  his  face  at  the 
same  time  ;  but,  being  quite  unable  to  keep  out  of  the  fray, 
he  compromised  the  matter  by  tucking  his  wife's  arm  under 
his  own,  and,  thus  accompanied,  following  Nicholas  down  stairs 
with  all  speed. 

The  passage  outside  the  coffee-room  door  was  the  scene 
of  disturbance,  and  here  were  congregated  the  coffee-room 
customers  and  waiters,  together  with  two  or  three  coachmen 
and  helpers  from  the  yard.  These  had  hastily  assembled 
round  a  }-oung  man  man  who  from  his  appearance  might  ha\e 
been  a  year  or  two  older  than  Nicholas,  and  Vv-ho,  besides  hav- 
ing given  utterance  to  the  defiances  just  now  described, 
seemed  to  have  proceeded  to  even  greater  lengths  in  his  in- 
dignation, inasmuch  as  his  feet  had  no  other  covering  than  a 


c;  5  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

pair  of  stockings,  while  a  couple  of  slippers  lay  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  head  of  a  prostrate  figure  in  an  opposite 
corner,  who  bore  the  appearance  of  having  been  shot  into  his 
present  retreat  by  means  of  a  kick,  and  complimented  by 
having  the  slippers  flung  about  his  ears  afterwards. 

The  coffee-room  customers,  and  the  waiters,  and  the  coach- 
men, and  the  helpers — not  to  mention  a  bar-maid  who  was 
looking  on  from  behind  an  open  sash  window — seemed  at  that 
moment,  if  a  spectator  might  judge  from  their  winks,  nods, 
and  muttered  exclamations,  strongly  disposed  to  take  part 
against  the  young  gentleman  in  the  stockings.  Observing  this, 
and  that  the  young  gentleman  was  nearly  of  his  own  age  and 
had  in  nothing  the  appearance  of  an  habitual  brawler,  Nicholas, 
impelled  by  such  feelings  as  will  inliuence  young  men  some- 
times, felt  a  very  strong  disposition  to  side  with  the  weaker 
party,  and  so  thrust  himself  at  once  into  the  centre  of  the 
group,  and  in  a  more  emphatic  tone,  perhaps,  than  circum- 
stances might  .seem  to  warrant,  demanded  what  all  that 
noise  was  about. 

"  Hallo  !  "  said  one  of  the  men  from  the  yard,  "  This  is 
somebody  in  disguise,  this  is." 

"  Room  for  the  eldest  son  of  the  Emperor  of  Roosher, 
gen'l'men  !  "  cried  another  fellow. 

Disregarding  these  sallies,  which  were  uncommonly  well 
received,  as  sallies  at  the  expense  of  the  best-dressed  persons 
in  a  crowd  usually  are,  Nicholas  glanced  carelessly  round, 
and  addressing  the  young  gentleman,  who  had  by  this  time 
picked  up  his  slippers,  and  thrust  his  feet  into  them,  repeated 
his  inquiries  with  a  courteous  air. 

"  A  mere  nothing  !  "  he  replied. 

At  this,  a  murmur  was  raised  by  the  lookers-on,  and  some 
of  the  boldest  cried,  "  Oh,  indeed  !  — Wasn't  it,  though  ! — ■ 
Nothing,  eh  ? — He  called  that  nothing,  did  he  ? — Lucky  for 
liim  if  he  found  it  nothing."  These  and  many  other  expres- 
sions of  ironical  disapprobation  having  been  exhausted,  two 
or  three  of  the  out-of  door  fellows  began  to  hustle  Nicholas 
and  the  young  gentleman  who  had  made  the  noise  ;  stumbling 
against  them  by  accident,  and  treading  on  their  toes,  and  so 
forth.  l)Ut  this  being  a  round  game,  and  one  not  necessarily 
limited  to  three  or  four  players,  was  open  to  John  Browdie 
too,  who,  bursting  into  the  little  crowd — to  the  great  terror  of 
his  wife — and  falling  about  in  all  directions,  now  to  the  right, 
now  to  the  left,  now  forwards,  now  backwards  and  accidentally 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


55  T 


driving  his  elbow  through  the  hat  of  the  tallest  helper  who 
had  been  particularly  active,  speedily  caused  the  odds  to  wear 
a  very  different  appearance  ;  while  more  than  one  stout  fellow, 
limped  away  to  a  respectful  distance,  anathematizing  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  the  heavy  tread  and  ponderous  feet  of  the 
burly  Yorkshireman. 

"Let  me  see  him  do  it  again,"  said  he  who  had  been  kick- 
ed into  the  corner,  rising  as  he  spoke,  apparently  more  from 
the  fear  of  John  Browdie's  inadvertently  treading  upon  him, 
than  from  any  desire  to  place  himself  on  equal  terms  with  his 
late  adversary.       "  Let  me  see  him  do  it  again.     That's  all." 

"  Let  me  hear  you  make  those  remarks  again,"  said  the 
young  man,  "  and  I'll  knock  that  head  of  yours  in  among  the 
wine-glasses  behind  you  there." 

Here  a  waiter  who  had  been  rubbing  his  hands  in  exces- 
sive enjoyment  of  the  scene,  so  long  as  only  the  breaking  of 
heads  was  in  question,  adjured  the  spectators  with  great  ear- 
nestness to  fetch  the  police,  declaring  that  otherwise  murder 
would  be  surely  done,  and  that  he  was  responsible  for  all  the 
glass  and  china  on  the  premises. 

"  No  one  need  trouble  himself  to  stir,"  said  the  young 
gentleman,  "  I  am  going  to  remain  in  the  house  all  night,  and 
shall  be  found  here  in  the  morning  if  there  is  any  assault  to 
answer  for." 

"  What  did  you  strike  him  for  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  by- 
standers. 

"  Ah  !  What  did  you  strike  him  for  ?  "  demanded  the 
others. 

The  unpopular  gentleman  looked  coolly  round,  and  ad- 
dressing himself  to  Nicholas,  said : 

"  You  inquired  just  now  what  was  the  matter  here.  The 
matter  is  simply  this.  Yonder  person,  who  was  drinking  with  a 
friend  in  the  coffee-room  when  1  took  my  seat  there  for  half  an 
hour  before  going  to  bed  (for  I  have  just  come  off  a  journey, 
and  preferred  stopping  here  to-night,  to  going  home  at  this 
hour,  where  I  was  not  expected  until  to-morrow),  chose  to 
express  himself  in  very  disrespectful,  and  insolently  familiar 
terms,  of  a  young  lady,  whom  I  recognized  from  his  descrip- 
tion and  other  circumstances,  and  whom  I  have  the  honor  to 
know.  As  he  spoke  loud  enough  to  be  overheard  by  the 
other  guests  who  were  present,  I  informed  him  most  civilly 
that  he  was  mistaken  in  his  conjectures,  which  were  of  an  of- 
fensive nature,  and  requested  him  to  forbear.     He  did  so  for 


^  5  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

a  little  time,  but  as  he  chose  to  renew  his  conversation  when 
leaving  the  room,  in  a  more  offensive  strain  than  before,  I 
could  not  refrain  from  making  after  him,  facilitating  his  de- 
parture by  a  kick,  which  reduced  him  to  the  posture  in  which 
you  saw  him  just  now.  I  am  the  best  judge  of  my  own  affairs, 
I  take  it,"  said  the  young  man,  who  had  certainly  not  quite 
recovered  from  his  recent  heat,  "  if  anybody  here  thinks 
proper  to  make  this  quarrel  his  own,  I  have  not  the  smallest 
earthly  objection,  I  do  assure  him." 

Of  all  possible  courses  of  jDroceeding  under  the  circumstances 
detailed,  there  was  certainly  not  one  which,  in  his  then  state  of 
mind,  could  have  appeared  more  laudable  to  Nicholas  than 
this.  There  were  not  many  subjects  of  dispute  which  at  that 
moment  could  have  come  home  to  his  own  breast  more  pow- 
erfully, for  having  the  unknown  uppermost  in  his  thoughts,  it 
naturally  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  have  done  just  the 
same  if  any  audacious  gossiper  durst  have  presumed  in  his 
hearing  to  speak  lightly  of  her.  Influenced  by  these  consider- 
ations, he  espoused  the  young  gentleman's  quarrel  with  great 
warmth,  protesting  that  he  had  done  quite  right,  and  that  he 
respected  him  for  it ;  which  John  Browdie  (albeit  not  quite 
clear  as  to  the  merits)  immediately  protested  too,  with  not  in- 
ferior vehemence. 

"  Let  him  take  care,  that's  all,"  said  the  defeated  party, 
who  was  being  rubbed  down  by  a  waiter,  after  his  recent  fall 
on  the  dusty  boards.  "  He  don't  knock  me  about  for  noth- 
ing, I  can  tell  him  that.  A  pretty  state  of  things,  if  a  man 
isn't  to  admire  a  handsome  girl  without  being  beat  to  pieces 
for  it  ! " 

This  reflection  appeared  to  have  great  weight  with  the 
young  lady  in  the  bar,  who  (adjusting  her  cap  as  she  spoke, 
and  glancing  at  a  mirror)  declared  that  it  would  be  a  very 
pretty  state  of  things  indeed ;  and  that  if  people  were  to  be 
punished  for  actions  so  innocent  and  natural  as  that,  there 
would  be  more  people  to  be  knocked  down  than  there  would  be 
people  to  knock  them  down,  and  that  she  wondered  what  the 
gentleman  meant  by  it,  that  she  did. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  the  young  gentleman  in  a  low  voice, 
advancing  towards  the  sash  window. 

"  Nonsense,  sir  !  "  replied  the  young  lady  sharply,  smil- 
ing though  as  she  turned  aside,  and  biting  her  lip  (whereat 
Mrs.  Browdie,  who  was  still  standing  on  the  stairs,  glanced  at 
her  with  disdain,  and  called  to  her  husband  to  come  away). 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  553 

"No,  but  listen  to  me,"  said  the  young  man.  "  If  admira- 
tion of  a  pretty  face  were  criminal,  1  should  be  the  most 
hopeless  person  alive,  for  1  cannot  resist  one.  It  has  the  most 
extraordinary  effect  upon  me,  checks  and  controls  me  in  the 
most  furious  and  obstinate  mood.  You  see  what  an  effect 
yours  has  had  upon  me  already." 

"Oh,  that's  very  pretty,"  replied  the  young  lady,  tossing 
her  head,  "  but " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it's  very  pretty,"  said  the  young  man,  look- 
ing with  an  air  of  admiration  in  the  bar-maid's  face,  "  1  said 
so,  you  know,  just  this  moment.  But  beauty  should  be  spoken 
of  respectfully — respectfully,  and  in  proper  terms,  and  with  a 
becoming  sense  of  its  worth  and  excellence,  whereas  this 
fellow  has  no  more  notion — — " 

The  young  lady  interrupted  the  conversation  at  this 
point,  by  thrusting  her  head  out  of  the  bar-window,  and  in- 
quiring of  the  waiter  in  a  shrill  voice  whether  that  young 
man  who  had  been  knocked  down  was  going  to  stand  in  the 
passage  all  night,  or  whether  the  entrance  was  to  be  left  clear 
for  other  people  .-'  The  waiters  taking  the  hint,  and  communi- 
cating it  to  the  hostlers,  were  not  slow  to  change  their  tone 
too,  and  the  result  was,  that  the  unfortunate  victim  was  bun- 
dled out  in  a  twinkling. 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  seen  that  fellow  before,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  Indeed  !  "  replied  his  new  acquaintance. 

"  I  am  certain  of  it,"  said  Nicholas,  pausing  to  reflect. 
"  Where  can  I  have — stop  ! — yes,  to  be  sure — he  belongs  to  a 
register-office  up  at  the  west  end  of  the  town.  I  knew  I  rec- 
ollected the  face." 

It  was  indeed,  Tom,  the  ugly  clerk. 

"That's  odd  enough!"  said  Nicholas,  ruminating  upon 
the  strange  manner  in  which  that  register  office  seemed  to 
start  up  and  stare  him,  in  the  face  every  now  and  then,  and 
when  he  least  expected  it. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  advocacy  of  my 
cause  when  it  most  needed  an  advocate,"  said  the  young  man, 
laughing,  and  drawing  a  card  from  his  pocket.  "  Perhaps 
you'll  do  me  the  favor  to  let  me  know  where  I  can  thank 
you." 

Nicholas  took  the  card,  and  glancing  at  it  involuntarily  as 
he  returned  the  compliment,  evinced  very  great  surprise. 

"  Mr.  Frank  Cheeryble  !  "  said  Nicholas.  "  Surely  not  the 
nephew  of  Cheeryble  Brothers,  who  is  expected  to-morrow  !  " 


^^^  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  I  don't  usually  call  myself  the  nephew  of  the  firm," 
returned  Mr.  Frank,  good-humoredly  ;  "  but  of  the  two  ex- 
cellent individuals  who  compose  it,  I  am  proud  to  say  I  am 
the  nephew.  And  you,  1  see,  are  Mr.  Nickleby,  of  whom  1 
have  heard  so  much  !  This  is  a  most  unexpected  meeting, 
but  not  the  less  welcome,  I  assure  you." 

Nicholas  responded  to  these  compliments  with  others  of 
the  same  kind,  and  they  shook  hands  warmly.  '  Then  he 
introduced  John  Browdie,  who  had  remained  in  a  state  of  great 
admiration  ever  since  the  young  lady  in  the  bar  had  been  so 
skilfully  won  over  to  the  right  side.  Then  Mrs.  John  Browdie 
was  introduced,  and  finally  they  all  went  up  stairs  together  and 
spent  the  next  half  hour  with  great  satisfaction  and  nmtual 
entertainment  ;  Mrs.  John  Browdie  beginning  the  conversation 
by  declaring  that  of  all  the  made-up  things  she  ever  saw,  that 
young  woman  below  stairs  was  the  vainest  and  the  plainest. 

This  Mr.  Frank  Cheeryble,  although,  to  judge  from  what 
had  recently  taken  place,  a  hot-headed  young  man  (which  is 
not  an  absolute  miracle  and  phenomenon  in  nature),  was  a 
sprightly,  good-humored,  pleasant  fellow,  with  much  both  in 
his  countenance  and  disposition  that  reminded  Nicholas  very 
strongly,  of  the  kind-hearted  brothers.  ^  His  manner  was,  as 
unaffected  as  theirs,  and  his  demeanor  fuiroT'tliaT  heartiness 
whiQli,_tQ...most  people. who  have  anything  generous  in  their 
composition,  is  peculiarly  prepossessiiig.  Add  to  this,  that 
he  was  good-looking  and  intelligent,  had  a  plentiful  share  of 
vivacity,  was  extremely  cheerful,  and  accommodated  himself 
in  five  minutes'  time  to  all  John  p]rowdie's  oddities  with  as 
much  ease  as  if  he  had  known  him  from  a  boy  ;  and  it  will  be 
a  source  of  no  great  wonder  that  when  they  parted  for  the 
night  he  had  produced  a  most  favorable  impression,  not  only 
upon  the  worthy  Yorkshireman  and  his  wife,  but  upon  Nicho- 
las also,  who,  revolving  all  these  things  in  his  mind  as  he 
made  the  best  of  his  way  home,  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
he  had  laid  the  foundation  of  a  most  agreeable  and  desirable 
acquaintance. 

"  But  it's  a  most  extraordinary  thing  about  that  register- 
oflfice  fellow ! "  thought  Nicholas.  "  Is  it  likely  that  this 
nephew  can  know  anything  about  that  beautiful  girl  ?  When 
Tim  Linkinwater  gave  me  to  understand  the  other  day  that 
he  was  coming  to  take  a  share  in  the  business  here,  he  said 
he  had  been  superintending  it  in  Germany  for  four  years,  and 
that  during  the  last  six  months  he  had  been  engaged  in  estab- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


5SS 


lishing  an  agency  in  tlie  north  of  England.  That's  four  years 
and  a  half — four  years  and  a  half.  She  can't  be  more  than 
seventeen — say  eighteen  at  the  outside.  She  was  quite  a 
child  when  he  went  away  then.  I  should  say  he  knew  nothing 
about  her  and  had  never  seen  her,  so  //t'can  give  me  no  infor- 
mation. At  all  events,"  thought  Nicholas,  coming  to  the  real 
point  in  his  mind,  "  there  can  be  no  danger  of  any  prior 
occupation  of  her  affections  in  that  quarter  ;  that's  quite  clear." 

Is  selfishness  a  necessar)'  ingredient  in  the  composition  of 
that  passion  called  love,  or  does  it  deserve  all  the  fine  things 
which  poets,  in  the  exercise  of  their  undoubted  vocation,  have 
said  of  it  ?  There  are,  no  doubt,  authenticated  instances  of 
gentlemen  having  given  up  ladies  and  ladies  having  given  up 
gentlemen  to  meritorious  rivals,  under  circumstances  of  great 
high-mindedness  ;  but  is  it  quite  established  that  the  majority 
of  such  ladies  and  gentlemen  have  not  made  a  virtue  of  neces- 
sity, and  nobly  resigned  what  was  beyond  their  reach  ;  as  a  pri- 
vate soldier  might  register  a  vow  never  to  accept  the  order  of 
the  Garter,  or  a  poor  curate  of  great  piety  and  learning,  but  of 
no  family — save  a  very  large  family  of  children — might  re- 
nomice  a  bishopric  .-' 

Here  was  Nicholas  Nickleby,  who  would  have  scorned  the 
thought  of  counting  how  the  chances  stood  of  his  rising  in 
favor  or  fortune  with  the  Brothers  Cheeryble,  now  that  their 
nephew  had  returned,  already  deep  in  calculations  whether 
that  same  nephew  was  likely  to  rival  him  in  the  affections  of 
the  fair  unknown — discussing  the  matter  with  himself  too,  as 
gravely  as  if,  with  that  one  exception,  it  were  all  settled  ;  and 
recurring  to  the  subject  again  and  again,  and  feeling  quite 
indignant  and  ill-used  at  the  notion  of  anybody  else  making 
love  to  one  with  whom  he  had  never  exchanged  a  word  in  all 
his  life.  To  be  sure,  he  exaggerated  rather  than  depreciated 
the  merits  of  his  new  acquaintance  ;  but  still  he  took  it  as  a 
kind  of  personal  offence  that  he  should  have  any  merits  at  all 
— in  the  eyes  of  this  particular  j-oung  lady,  that  is  ;  for  else- 
where he  was  quite  welcome  to  have  as  many  as  he  pleased. 
There  was  undoubted  selfishness  'in  all  this,  and  yet  Nicholas 
was  of  a  most  free  and  generous  nature,  with  as  few  mean  or 
sordid  thoughts,  perhaps,  as  e\er  fell  to  the  lot  of  any  man  ; 
and  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that,  being  in  love,  he  felt 
and  thought  differently  from  other  people  in  the  like  sublime 
condition. 

He  did  not  stop  to  set  on  foot  an  inquiry  into  his  train  of 


r^e  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

thought  or  state  of  feeling,  however ;  but  went  thinking  on 
all  the  way  home,  and  continued  to  dream  on  in  the  same 
strain  all  night.  For,  having  satisfied  himself  that  Frank 
Cheeryble  could  have  no  knowledge  of,  or  acquaintance  with 
the  mysterious  young  lady,  it  began  to  occur  to  him  that  even 
he  himself  might  never  see  her  again  ;  upon  which  hypothesis 
he  built  up  a  very  ingenious  succession  of  tormenting  ideas 
which  answered  his  purpose  even  better  than  the  vision  of 
Mr.  Frank  Cheeryble,  and  tantalized  and  worried  him,  waking 
and  sleeping. 

.  Notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  said  and  sung  to  the 
contrary,  there  is  no  well-established  case  of  morning  having 
either  deferred  or  hastened  its  approach  by  the  term  of  an 
hour  or  so  for  the  mere  gratification  of  a  splenetic  feeling 
against  some  unoffending  lover  ;  the  sun  having,  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  public  duty,  as  the  books  of  precedent  report, 
invariably  risen  according  to  the  almanacs,  and  without 
suffering  himself  to  be  swayed  by  any  private  considerations. 
So,  morning  came  as  usual,  and  with  it  business-hours,  and 
with  them  Mr.  Frank  Cheeryble,  and  with  him  a  long  train  of 
smiles  and  welcomes  from  the  worthy  brothers,  and  a  more 
grave  and  clerk-like,  but  scarcely  less  hearty  reception  from 
Mr.  Timothy  Linkinwater. 

"  That  Mr.  Frank  and  Mr.  Nickleby  should  have  met  last 
night,"  said  Tim  Linkinwater,  getting  slowly  off  his  stool,  and 
looking  round  the  counting-house  with  his  back  planted  against 
the  desk,  as  was  his  custom  when  he  had  anything  very  par- 
ticular to  say:  "that  those  two  young  men  should  have  met 
last  night  in  that  manner  is,  I  say,  a  coincidence,  a  remark- 
able coincidence.  Why  I  don't  believe  now,"  added  Tim, 
taking  off  his  spectacles,  and  smiling  as  with  gentle  pride, 
"  that  there's  such  a  place  in  all  the  world  for  coincidences  as 
London  is !  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Frank  ;  "but " 

"  Don't  know  about  it,  Mr.  Francis  I  "  interrupted  Tirn, 
with  an  obstinate  air.  "  Well,  but  let  us  know.  If  there  is 
any  better  place  for  such  things,  where  is  it  ?  Is  it  in  Europe  ? 
No,  that  it  isn't.  Is  it  in  Asia  ?  Why,  of  course  it's  not.  Is 
it  in  Africa  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Is  it  in  America  ?  You  know 
better  than  that,  at  all  events.  Well,  then,"  said  Tim,  folding 
his  arms  resolutely,  "  where  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  about  to  dispute  the  point,  Tim,"  said  young 
Cheeryble,  laughing.     "  I  am  not  such  a  heretic  as  that.     All 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  557 

I  was  going  to  say  was,  that  I  hold  myself  under  an  obliga- 
tion to  the  coincidence,  that's  all." 

"  Oh!  if  you  don't  dispute  it,"  said  Tim,  quite  satisfied, 
"  that's  another  thing.  I'll  tell  you  what  though.  I  wish  you 
had.  I  wish  you  or  anybody  would.  I  would  so  put  that 
man  down,"  sa'id  Tim,  tapping  the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand 
i;mphatically  with  his  spectacles,  "  so  put  that  man  down  by 
argument " 

It  was  quite  impossible  to  find  language  to  express  the 
degree  of  mental  prostration  to  which  such  an  adventurous 
wight  would  be  reduced  in  the  keen  encounter  with  Tim 
Linkinwater,  so  Tim  gave  up  the  rest  of  his  declaration  in 
pure  lack  of  words,  and  mounted  his  stool  again. 

"  We  may  consider  ourselves,  brother  Ned,"  said  Charles, 
after  he  had  patted  Tim  Linkinwater  approvingly  on  the  back, 
"  very  fortunate  in  having  two  such  young  men  about  us  as 
our  nephew  Frank  and  Mr.  Nickleby.  It  should  be  a  source 
of  great  satisfaction  and  pleasure  to  us." 

"Certainly,  Charles,  certainly,"  returned  the  other. 

"Of  Tim,'"'  added  brother  Ned,  "  I  say  nothing  whatever, 
because  Tim  is  a  mere  child — an  infant — a  nobody  that  we 
never  think  of  or  take  into  account  at  all.  Tim,  you  villain, 
what  do  you  say  to  that,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am  jealous  of  both  of  'em,"  said  Tim,  "  and  mean  to 
look  out  for  another  situation  •  so  provide  yourselves,  gentle- 
men, if  you  please." 

Tim  thought  this  such  an  exquisite,  unparalleled,  and  most 
extraordinary  joke,  that  he  laid  his  pen  upon  the  inkstand, 
and  rather  tumbling  off  his  stool  than  getting  down  with  his 
usual  deliberation,  laughed  till  he  was  quite  faint,  shaking  his 
head  all  the  time  so  that  little  particles  of  powder  flew  palpa- 
bly about  the  office.  Nor  were  the  brothers  at  all  behind- 
hand, for  they  laughed  almost  as  heartily  at  the  ludicrous  idea 
of  any  voluntary'  separation  between  themselves  and  old  Tim. 
Nicholas  and  Mr.  Frank  laughed  quite  boisterously,  perhaps 
to  conceal  some  other  emotion  awakened  by  this  little  inci- 
dent, (and,  so  mdeed,  did  the  three  old  fellows  after  the  first 
burst,)  so  perhaps  there  was  as  much  keen  enjoyment  and 
relish  in  that  laugh  altogether,  as  the  politest  assembly  ever 
derived  from  the  most  poignant  witticism  uttered  at  any  one 
person's  expense. 

"  Mr.  Nicklebv,"  said  brother  Charles,  calling  him  aside, 
and  taking  him  kindly  by  the   hand,  "  I— I    am  anxious,   my 


2^8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

dear  sir,  to  see  that  you  are  properly  and  comfortably  settled 
in  the  cottage.  We  cannot  allow  those  who  sen-e  us  well,  to 
labor  under  any  privation  or  discomfort  that  it  is  in  our  power 
to  remove.  I  wish,  too,  to  see  your  mother  and  sister  :  to 
know  them,  Mr.  Nickleby,  and  have  an  opportunity  of  reliev- 
ing their  minds  by  assuring  them  that  any  trifling  service  we 
have  been  able  to  do  them  is  a  great  deal  more  than  repaid 
by  the  zeal  and  ardor  you  display. — Not  a  word,  my  dear  sir, 
I  beg.  To-morrow  is  Sunday.  I  shall  make  bold  to  come 
out  at  tea-time,  and  take  the  chance  of  finding  you  at  home  ; 
if  you  are  not,  you  know,  or  the  ladies  should  feel  a  delicacy 
in  being  intruded  on,  and  would  rather  not  be  known  to  me 
just  now,  why  I  can  come  again  another  time,  any  other  time 
would  do  for  me.  Let  it  remain  upon  that  understanding. 
Brother  Ned,  my  dear  fellow,  let  me  have  a  word  with  you 
this  way." 

The  twins  went  out  of  the  office  arm  in  arm,  and  Nicholas, 
who  saw  in  this  act  of  kindness,  and  many  others  of  which  he 
had  been  the  subject  that  morning,  only  so  many  delicate  re- 
newals on  the  arrival  of  their  nephew  of  the  kind  assurances 
which  the  brothers  had  given  him  in  his  absence,  could 
scarcely  feel  sufficient  admiration  and  gratitude  for  such  ex- 
traordinary consideration. 

The  intelligence  that  they  were  to  have  a  visitor — and  such 
a  visitor— next  day,  awakened  in  the  breast  of  Mrs.  Nickleby 
mingled  feelings  of  exultation  and  regret  ;  for  whereas  on  the 
one  hand  she  liailed  it  as  an  omen  of  her  speedy  restoration 
to  good  society  and  the  almost-forgotten  pleasures  of  morning 
calls  and  e\ening  tea-drinkings,  she  could  not,  on  the  other, 
but  reflect  with  Jntterness  of  spirit  on  the  absence  of  a  silver 
teapot  with  an  ivory  knob  on  the  lid,  and  a  milk-jug  to  match, 
wliich  had  been  the  pride  of  her  heart  in  days  of  yore,  and 
had  been  kept  from  year's  end  to  year's  end  wrapped  up  in 
wash-leather  on  a  certain  top  shelf  which  now  presented  itself 
in  lively  colors  to  her  sorrowing  imagination. 

"  I  wonder  who's  got  that  spice-box,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
shaking  her  head.  "  It  used  to  stand  in  the  left-hand  corner, 
next  but  two  to  the  pickled  onions.  You  remember  that 
spice-box,  Kate  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  well,  mama." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  you  did,  Kate,"  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
in  a  severe  manner,  "talking  about  it  in  that  cold  and  unfeel- 
ing way !     If  there  is   any  one   thing  that  vexes  me  in   these 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  ^^g 

losses  more  than  the  losses  themselves,  I  do  protest  and  de- 
clare," said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  rubbing  her  nose  with  an  impas- 
sioned air,  "  that  it  is  to  have  people  about  me  who  take 
things  with  such  provoking  calmness !  " 

"  My  dear  mama,"  said  Kate,  stealing  her  arm  round  her 
mother's  neck,  "  why  do  you  say  what  I  know  you  cannot 
seriously  mean  or  think,  or  why  be  angry  with  me  for  being 
happy  and  content?  You  and  Nicholas  are  left  to  me,  we  are 
together  once  again,  and  what  regard  can  I  have  for  a  few 
trifling  things  of  which  we  never  feel  the  want  ?  When  I  have 
seen  all  the  misery  and  desolation  that  death  can  bring,  and 
known  the  lonesome  feeling  of  being  solitary  and  alone  in 
crowds,  and  all  the  agony  of  separation  in  grief  and  poverty 
when  we  most  needed  comfort  and  support  from  each  other, 
can  you  wonder  that  I  look  upon  this  as  a  place  of  such  deli- 
cious quiet  and  rest,  that  with  you  beside  me  I  have  nothing 
to  wish  for  or  regret  ?  There  was  a  time,  and  not  long  since, 
when  all  the  comforts  of  our  old  home  did  come  back  upon 
me,  I  own,  ver)'-  often — oftener  than  you  would  think  perhaps 
— but  I  affected  to  care  nothing  for  them,  in  the  hope  that  you 
would  so  be  brought  to  regret  them  less.  I  was  not  insensible, 
indeed.  I  might  have  felt  happier  if  I  liad  been.  .  Dear  ma- 
ma." said  Kate,  in  great  agitation,  "  I  know  no  difference 
between  this  home  and  that  in  which  we  were  all  so  happy 
for  so  many  years,  except  that  the  kindest  and  gentlest  heart 
that  ever  ached  on  earth  has  passed  in  peace  to  heaven." 

"  Kate,  my  dear  Kate  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  folding  her 
in  her  arms. 

"  I  have  so  often  thought,"  sobbed  Kate,  "  of  all  his  kind 
words — of  the  last  time  he  looked  into  my  little  room,  as  he 
passed  up  stairs  to  bed,  and  said  '  God  bless  you,  darling.' 
There  was  a  paleness  in  his  face,  mama — tlie  broken  heart — • 
I  know  it  was — I  little  thought  so — then — " 

A  gush  of  tears  came  to  her  relief,  and  Kate  laid  her  head 
upon  her  mother's  breast,  and  wept  like  a  little  child. 

It  is  an  exquisite  and  beautiful  thing  in  our  nature,  that 
when  the  heart  is  touched  and  softened  by  some  tranquil  hap- 
piness or  affectionate  feeling,  the  memory  of  the  dead  comes 
over  it  most  powerfully  and  irresistibly.  It  would  almost 
seem  as  though  our  better  thoughts  and  sympathies  were 
charms,  in  virtue  of  which  the  soul  is  enabled  to  hold  some 
vague  and  mvsterious  intercourse  with  the  spirits  of  those 
whom  we  dearly  loved  in  life.     Alas  !  how  often  and  how  long 


560  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

may  those  patient  angels  hover  above  us,  watching  for  the 
sjDcll  which  is  so  seldom  uttered,  and  so  soon  forgotten ! 

Poor  Mrs.  Nickleby,  accustomed  to  give  ready  utterance 
to  whatever  came  uppermost  in  her  mind,  liad  never  conceived 
the  possibility  of  her  daughter's  dwelling  upon  these  thoughts 
in  secret,  the  more  especially  as  no  hard  trial  or  querulous 
reproach  had  ever  drawn  them  from  her.  But  now,  when  the 
happiness  of  all  that  Nicholas  had  just  told  them,  and  of  their 
new  and  peaceful  life,  brought  these  recollections  so  strongly 
upon  Kate  that  she  could  not  suppress  them,  Mrs.  Nickleby 
began  to  have  a  glimmering  that  she  had  been  rather  thought- 
less  now  and  then,  and  was  conscious  of  something  like  self- 
reproach  as  she  embraced  her  daughter,  and  yielded  to  the 
emotions  which  such  a  conversation  naturally  awakened. 

There  was  a  mighty  bustle  that  night,  and  a  vast  quantity 
of  preparation  for  the  expected  visitor,  and  a  very  large  nose- 
gay was  brought  from  a  gardener's  hard  by  and  cut  up  into  a 
number  of  very  small  ones  with  which  .Mrs.  Nickleby  would 
have  garnished  the  little  sitting-room,  in  a  style  that  certainly 
could  not  have  failed  to  attract  anybody's  attention,  if  Kate 
had  not  offered  to  spare  her  the  trouble,  and  arranged  them 
in  the  prettiest  and  neatest  manner  possible.  If  the  cottage 
ever  looked  pretty,  it  must  have  been  on  such  a  bright  and 
sunshiny  day  as  the  next  day  was.  But  Smike's  pride  in  the 
srarden,  or  Mrs.  Nicklebv's  in  the  condition  of  the  furniture, 
or  Ivate's  in  ever\'thing,  was  nothing  to  the  pride  with  which 
Nicholas  looked  at  Kate  herself ;  and  surely  the  costliest 
mansion  in  all  Elngland  might  have  found  in  her  beautiful  face 
and  graceful  form  its  most  exquisite  and  peerless  ornament. 

About  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Mrs.  Nickleby  was 
thrown  into  a  great  flutter  of  spirits  by  the  long  expected  knock 
at  the  door,  nor  was  this  flutter  at  all  composed  by  the  audible 
tread  of  two  pairs  of  boots  in  the  passage,  which  Mrs.  Nickleby 
augured  in  a  breathless  state  must  be  "the  two  Mr.  Cheer)-- 
bles  ;"  as  it  certainly  was,  though  not  the  two  Mrs.  Nickleby 
expected,  because  it  was  Charles  Cheeryble,  and  his  nephew, 
Mr.  Frank,  who  made  a  thousand  apologies  for  his  intrusion, 
which  Mrs.  Nickleby  (having  teaspoons  enough  and  to  spare 
for  all)  most  graciously  received.  Nor  did  the  appearance  of 
this  unexpected  visitor  occasion  the  least  embarrassment 
(save  in  Kate,  and  that  only  to  the  extent  of  a  blush  or  two  at 
first),  for  the  old  gentleman  was  so  kind  and  cordial,  and  the 
young  gentleman  imitated  him  in  this  respect  so  well,  that  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


S6l 


usual  stiffness  and  formality  of  a  first  meeting  showed  no  signs 
of  appearing,  and  Kate  really  more  than  once  detected  herself 
in  the  very  act  of  wondering  when  it  was  going  to  begin. 

At  the  tea-table  there  was  plenty  of  conversation  on  a 
great  variety  of  subjects,  nor  were  there  wanting  jocose 
matters  of  discussion,  such  as  they  were  ;  for  young  Mr. 
Cheeryble's  recent  stay  in  Germany  happening  to  be  alluded 
to,  old  Mr.  Cheeryble  informed  the  company  that  the  aforesaid 
young  Mr.  Cheeryble  was  suspected  to  have  fallen  deeply  in  love 
with  the  daughter  of  a  certain  German  burgomaster.  This  ac- 
cusation young  Mr.  Cheeryble  most  indignantly  repelled,  upon 
which  Mrs.  Nickleby  slyly  remarked  that  she  suspected  from 
the  very  warmth  of  the  denial,  there  must  be  something  in  it. 
Young  Mr.  Cheeryble  then  earnestly  entreated  old  Mr.  Cheery- 
ble to  confess  that  it  was  all  a  jest,  which  old  Mr.  Cheeryble 
at  last  did,  young  Mr.  Cheeryble  being  so  much  in  earnest 
about  it,  that — as  Mrs.  Nickleby  said  many  thousand  times 
afterwards  in  recalling  the  scene — he  "quite  colored,"  which 
she  rightly  considered  a  memorable  circumstance,  and  one 
worthy  of  remark,  young  men  not  being  as  a  class  remarkable 
for  modesty  or  self-denial,  especially  when  there  is  a  lady  in 
the  case,  when,  if  they  color  at  all,  it  is  rather  their  practice 
to  color  the  story,  and  not  themselves. 

After  tea  there  was  a  walk  in  the  garden,  and  the  evening 
being  very  fine  they  strolled  out  at  the  garden  gate  into  some 
lanes  and  by-roads,  and  sauntered  up  and  down  until  it  grew 
quite  dark.  The  time  seemed  to  pass  very  quickly  with  all 
the  party.  Kate  went  first,  leaning  upon  her  brother's  arm, 
and  talking  with  him  and  Mr.  Frank  Cheeryble  ;  and  Mrs. 
Nickleby  and  the  elder  gentleman  followed  at  a  short  distance, 
the  kindness  of  the  good  merchant,  his  interest  in  the  welfare 
of  Nicholas,  and  his  admiration  of  Kate,  so  operating  upon 
the  good  lady's  feelings,  that  the  usual  current  of  her  speech 
was  confined  within  very  narrow  and  circumscribed  limits. 
Smike  (who,  if  he  had  ever  been  an  object  of  interest  in  his 
life,  had  been  one  that  day)  accompanied  them,  joining  some- 
times one  group  and  sometimes  the  other,  as  brother  Charles, 
laying  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  bade  him  walk  with  him,  or 
Nicholas,  looking  smilingly  round,  beckoned  him  to  come  and 
talk  with  the  old  friend  who  understood  him  best,  and  who 
could  win  a  smile  into  his  care-worn  face  when  none  else 
could. 

Pride  is  one  of  the  seven  deadly  sins  ;  but  it  cannot  be  the 

3^ 


562  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

pride  of  a  mother  in  her  children,  for  that  is  a  compound  of  two 
cardinal  virtues — faith  and  hope.  This  was  the  pride  which 
swelled  Mrs.  Nickleby's  heart  that  night,  and  this  it  was  which 
left  upon  her  face,  glistening  in  the  light  when  they  returned 
home,  traces  of  the  most  grateful  tears  she  had  ever  shed. 

There  was  a  quiet  mirth  about  the  little  supper,  which 
harmonized  exactly  with  this  tone  of  feeling,  and  at  length  the 
two  gentlemen  took  their  leave.  There  was  one  circumstance 
in  the  leave-taking  which  occasioned  a  vast  deal  of  smiling 
and  pleasantry,  and  that  was,  that  Mr.  Frank  Cheeryble 
offered  his  hand  to  Kate  twice  over,  quite  forgetting  that  he 
had  bade  her  adieu  already.  This  was  held  by  the  elder  Mr. 
Cheeryble  to  be  a  convincing  proof  that  he  was  thinking  of 
his  German  flame,  and  the  jest  occasioned  immense  laughter. 
So  easy  is  it  to  move  light  hearts. 

In  short,  it  was  a  day  of  serene  and  tranquil  happiness  \ 
and  as  we  all  have  some  bright  day — many  of  us,  let  us  hope, 
among  a  crowd  of  others — to  which  we  revert  with  particular 
delight,  so  this  one  was  often  looked  back  to  afterwards,  as 
holding  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  calendar  of  those  who 
shared  it. 

Was  there  one  exception,  and  that  one  he  who  needed  to 
have  been  most  happy  ? 

Who  was  that  who,  in  the  silence  of  his  own  chamber,  sunk 
upon  his  knees  to  pray  as  his  first  friend  had  taught  him,  and 
folding  his  hands  and  stretching  them  wildly,  in  the  air,  fell 
upon  his  face  in  a  passion  of  bitter  grief  t 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

MR.  RALPH  NICKLEBY  CUTS  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE.  IT  WOULD 
ALSO  APPEAR  FROM  THE  CONTENTS  HEREOF,  THAT  A  JOKE 
EVEN  BETWEEN  HUSBAND  AND  WIFE,  MAY  BE  SOMETIMES 
CARRIED  TOO  FAR. 

\  There  are  some  men  who,  living  with  the  one  objci  t  of  en- 
riching themselves,  no  matter  by  what  means,  and  being  per- 
fectly conscious  of  the  baseness  and  rascality  of  the  means 
which  they  will  use  every  day  towards   this  end,  affect  never- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  563 

theless — even  to  themselves — a  high  tone  of  moral  rectitude 
and  sl.ake  their  heads  and  sigh  over  the  depravity  of  the 
world.  Some  of  the  craftiest  scoundrels  that  ever  walked  this 
earth,  or  rather — for  walking  implies,  at  least,  an  erect  position 
and  the  bearing  of  a  man — that  ever  crawled  and  crept 
through  life  by  its  dirtiest  and  narrowest  ways,  will  gravely 
jot  down  in  diaries  the  events  of  every  day,  and  keep  a  regular 
debtor  and  creditor  account  with  Heaven,  which  shall  always 
show  a  floating  balance  in  their  own  favor.  Whether  this  is  a 
gratuitous  (the  only  gratuitous)  part  of  the  falsehood  and 
trickery  of  such  men's  lives,  or  whether  they  really  hope  to 
cheat  Heaven  itself,  and  lay  up  treasure  in  the  next  world  by 
the  same  process  which  has  enabled  them  to  lay  up  treasure 
in  this — not  to  question  how  it  is,  so  it  is.  And,  doubtless, 
such  book-keeping  (like  certain  autobiographies  which  have 
enlightened  the  world)  cannot  fail  to  prove  serviceable,  in  the 
one  respect  of  sparing  the  recording  Angel  some  time  and 
labor. 

Ralph  Nickleby  was  not  a  man  of  this  stamp.  Stern,  un- 
yielding, dogged,  and  impenetrable,  Ralph  cared  for  nothing 
in  life,  or  beyond  it,  save  the  gratification  of  two  passions  : 
avarice,  the  first  and  predominant  appetite  of  his  nature,  and 
hatrecT,  the  second.  Affecting  to  consider  himself  but  a  type 
of  "airhumanity,  he  was  at  little  pains  to  conceal  his  true 
character  from  the  world  in  general,  and  in  his  own  heart  he| 
exulted  over  and  cherished  every  bad  design  as  it  had  birth. 
The  only  scriptural  admonition  that  Ralph  Nickleby  heeded, 
in  the  letter,  was  "Know  thyself."  '  He  knew  himself  well, 
and  choosing  to  imagine  that  all  mankind  were  cast  in  the 
same  mould,  hated  Uiem  ;  for,  though  no  man  hates  himself, 
the"c6Idest  among  us  having  too  much  self-love  for  that,  yet 
most  men  unconsciously  judge  the  world  from  themselves,  and 
it  will  be  very  generally  found  that  those  who  sneer  habitually 
at  human  nature,  and  affect  to  despise  it,  are  among  its  worst 
and  least  pleasant  samples. 

~ — Buftlie  present  business  of  these  adventures  is  with  Ralph 
himself,  who  stood  regarding  Newman  Noggs  with  a  hea\-y 
frown,  while  that  worthy  took  off  his  fingerless  gloves,  and, 
spreading  them  carefully  on  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  and 
iiattening  them  with  his  right  to  take  the  creases  out,  pro- 
ceeded to  roll  them  up  with  an  absent  air,  as  if  he  were  utterly 
regardless  of  all  things  else,  in  the  deep  interest  of  the  cere- 
monial. 


564  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  Gone  out  of  town  !  "  said  Ralph,  slowly,  '  A  mistake 
of  yours.     Go  back  again." 

"No  mistake,"  returned  Newman.  "Not  even  going; 
gone." 

"  Has  he  turned  girl  or  baby  ?  "  muttered  Ralph,  with  a 
fretful  gesture. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Newman,  "  but  he's  gone." 

The  repetition  of  the  word,  "gone,"  seemed  to  afford 
Newman  Noggs  inexpi-essible  delight,  in  proportion  as  it  an- 
noyed Ralph  Nickleby.  He  uttered  the  word  with  a  full 
round  emphasis,  dwelling  upon  it  as  long  as  he  decently  could, 
and  when  he  could  hold  out  no  longer  without  attracting 
observation,  stood  gasping  it  to  himself,  as  if  even  that  were 
a  satisfaction. 

"  And  where  has  he  gone  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  P'rance,"  replied  Newman.  "  Danger  of  another  attack 
of  erysipelas— a  worse  attack — in  the  head.  So  the  doctors 
ordered  him  off.     And  he's  gone." 

"  And  Lord  Frederick ?  "  began  Ralph. 

"  He's  gone  too,"  replied  Newman. 

"  And  he  carries  his  drubbing  with  him,  does  he  !  "  said 
Ralph,  turning  away  ;  "  pockets  his  bruises,  and  sneaks  off 
without  the  retaliation  of  a  word,  or  seeking  the  smallest 
reparation  !  " 

"  He's  too  ill,"  said  Newman. 

"  Too  ill !  "  repeated  Ralph.  "  Why  /would  have  it  if  I 
were  dying  ;  in  that  case  I  would  only  be  the  more  determined 
to  have  it,  and  that  without  delay — I  mean  if  I  were  he.  But 
he's  too  ill !     Poor  Sir  Mulberry  !     Too  ill !  " 

Uttering  these  words  with  supreme  contempt  and  great 
irritation  of  manner,  Ralph  signed  hastily  to  Newman  to  leave 
the  room  ;  and  throwing  himself  into  his  chair,  beat  his  foot 
impatiently  upon  the  ground. 

"  There  is  some  spell  about  that  boy,"  said  Ralph,  grind- 
ing his  teeth.  "  Circumstances  conspire  to  help  him.  Talk 
of  fortune's  favors  !  What  is  even  money  to  such  Devil's 
luck  as  this  !  " 

He  thrust  his  hands  impatiently  into  his  pockets,  but  not- 
withstanding his  previous  reflection  there  was  some  consola- 
tion there,  for  his  face  rela.xed  a  little  ;  and  although  there 
was  still  a  deep  frown  upon  the  contracted  brow,  it  was  one 
of  calculation,  and  not  of  disappointment. 

"This  Hawk  will  come  back,  however,"  muttered  Ralph  3 


NICHOLAS  KICKLEB  Y.  565 

"  and  if  I  know  the  man  (and  I  should  by  tliis  time)  his 
wrath  will  have  lost  nothing  of  its  violence  in  the  meanwhile. 
Obliged  to  live  in  retirement — the  monotony  of  a  sick-room  to 
a  man  of  his  habits — no  life — no  drink — no  play — nothing  that 
he  likes  and  lives  by.  He  is  not  likely  to  forget  his  obliga- 
tions to  the  cause  of  all  this.  Few  men  would  ;  but  he  of  all 
others  ?     No,  no  !  " 

He  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  and  resting  his  chin  upon 
his  hand,  fell  a  musing,  and  smiled  again.  After  a  time  he 
rose  and  rang  the  bell. 

"  That  Mr.  Squeers  ;  has  he  been  here  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  He  was  here  last  night.  I  left  him  here  when  I  went 
home,"  returned  Newman. 

"  I  know  that,  fool,  do  I  not  ?  "  said  Ralph,  irascibly. 
"  Has  he  been  here  since  ?     Was  he  here  this  morning  ?  " 

"  No,"  bawled  Newman,  in  a  very  loud  key. 

"  If  he  comes  while  I  am  out — he  is  pretty  sure  to  be  here 
by  nine  to-night — let  him  wait.  And  if  there's  another  man 
with  him,  as  there  will  be — perhaps,"  said  Ralph,  checking 
himself,  "  let  him  wait  too." 

"  Let  'em  both  wait  ?  "  said  Newman. 

"Ay,"  replied  Ralph,  turning  upon  him  with  an  angry 
look.  "  Help  me  on  with  this  spencer,  and  don't  repeat  after 
me,  like  a  croaking  parrot." 

"  I  wish  I  was  a  parrot,"  said  Newman,  sulkily. 

"  I  wish  you  were,"  rejoined  Ralph,  drawing  his  spencer 
on  ;  "  I'd  have  wrung  your  neck  long  ago," 

Newman  returned  no  answer  to  this  compliment,  but 
looked  over  Ralph's  shoulder  for  an  instant,  (he  was  adjust 
ing  the  collar  of  the  spencer  behind,  just  then,)  as  if  he  were 
strongly  disposed  to  tweak  him  by  the  nose.  Meeting  Ralph's 
eye,  however,  he  suddenly  recalled  his  wandering  fingers,  and 
rubbed  his  "own  red  nose  with  a  vehemence  quite  astonishing. 

Bestowing  no  further  notice  upon  his  eccentric  follower 
than  a  threatening  look,  and  an  admonition  to  be  careful  and 
make  no  mistake,  Ralph  took  his  hat  and  gloves,  and  walked 
out. 

He  appeared  to  have  a  very  extraordinary  and  miscel- 
laneous connection,  and  very  odd  calls  he  made,  some  at 
great  rich  houses,  and  some  at  small  poor  houses,  but  all  upon 
one  subject :  money.  His  face  was  a  talisman  to  the  porters 
and  servants  of  his  more  dashing  clients,  and  procured  him 
ready  admission,  though  he  trudged  on  foot,  and  others,  who 


5G6 


NICHOLAS  XICKLEBY. 


were  denied,  rattled  to  the  door  in  carriages.  Here,  he  was 
all  softness  and  cringing  civility;  his  step  so  light,  that  it 
scarcely  produced  a  sound  upon  the  thick  carpets ;  his  voice 
so  soft  that  it  was  not  audible  beyond  the  person  to  whom  it 
was  addressed.  But  in  the  poorer  habitations  Ralph  was 
another  man  ;  his  boots  creaked  on  the  passage  floor  as  he 
walked  boldly  in ;  his  voice  was  harsh  and  loud  as  he  de- 
manded the  money  that  was  overdue  ;  his  threats  were  coarse 
and  angry.  With  another  class  of  customers,  Ralph  was  again 
another  man.  These  were  attorneys  of  more  than  doubtful 
reputation,  who  helped  him  to  new  business,  or  raised  fresh 
profits  upon  old.  With  them  Ralph  was  familiar  and  jocose, 
humorous  upon  the  topics  of  the  day,  and  especially  pleasant 
upon  bankruptcies  and  pecuniary  difficulties  that  made  good 
for  trade.  In  short,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  have 
recognized  the  same  man  under  these  various  aspects,  but 
for  the  bulky  leather  case  full  of  bills  and  notes  which  he 
drew  from  his  pocket  at  every  house,  and  the  constant  repeti- 
tion of  the  same  complaint,  (varied  only  in  tone  and  style  of 
delivery),  that  the  world  thought  him  rich,  and  that  perhaps 
he  might  be  if  he  had  his  own  ;  but  that  there  was  no  getting 
money  in  when  it  was  once  out,  either  principal  or  interest, 
and  it  was  a  hard  matter  to  live  ;  even  to  live  from  day  to 
day. 

It  was  evening  before  a  long  round  of  such  visits  (inter- 
rupted only  by  a  scanty  dinner  at  an  eating-house)  terminated 
at  Pimlico,  and  Ralph  walked  along  St.  James's  Park,  on  his 
way  home. 

There  were  some  deep  schemes  in  his  head,  as  the  puck- 
ered brow  and  firmly-set  mouth  would  have  abundantly 
testified,  even  if  they  had  been  unaccompanied  by  a  complete 
indifference  to,  or  unconsciousness  of,  the  objects  about  him. 
So  complete  was  his  abstraction,  however,  that  Ralph,  usually 
as  quick-sighted  as  any  man,  did  not  observe  that  he  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  shambling  figure,  which  at  one  time  stole  behind 
him  with  noiseless  footsteps,  at  another  crept  a  few  paces 
bcforo  him,  and  at  another  glided  along  by  his  side  ;  at  all 
times  regarding  him  with  an  eye  so  keen,  and  a  look  so  eager 
and  attentive,  that  it  was  more  like  the  expression  of  an  in- 
trusive face  in  some  powerful  picture  or  strongly  marked 
dream,  than  the  scrutiny  even  of  a  most  interested  and 
an.xious  observer. 

The  sky  had  been  lowering  and  dark  for  some  time,  and 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  567 

the  commencement  of  a  violent  storm  of  rain  drove  Ralph  for 
shelter  to  a  tree.  He  was  leaning  against  it  with  folded  arms, 
still  buried  in  thought,  when,  happening  to  raise  his  eyes,  he 
suddenly  met  those  of  a  man  who,  creeping  round  the  trunk, 
peered  into  his  face  with  a  searching  look.  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  usurer's  expression  at  the  moment,  which  the 
man  appeared  to  remember  well,  for  it  decided  him  ;  and 
stepping  close  up  to  Ralph,  he  pronounced  his  name. 

Astonished  for  the  moment,  Ralph  fell  back  a  couple  of 
paces  and  surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot.  A  spare,  dark, 
withered  man,  of  about  his  own  age,  with  a  stooping  body, 
and  a  very  sinister  face  rendered  more  ill-favored  by  hollow 
and  hungr}'  cheeks  deeply  sunburnt,  and  thick  black  eye- 
brows, blacker  in  contrast  with  the  perfect  whiteness  of  his 
hair  ;  roughly  clothed  in  shabby  garments,  of  a  strange  and 
uncouth  make  ;  and  having  about  him  an  indefinable  manner 
of  depression  and  degradation — this,  for  a  moment,  was  all  he 
saw.  But  he  looked  again,  and  the  face  and  person  seemed 
gradually  to  grow  less  strange,  to  change  as  he  looked,  to 
subside  and  soften  into  lineaments  that  were  familiar,  until  at 
last  they  resolved  themselves,  as  if  by  some  strange  optical  illu- 
sion, into  those  of  one  whom  he  had  known  for  many  years, 
and  forgotten  and  lost  sight  of  for  nearly  as  many  more. 

The  man  saw  that  the  recognition  was  mutual,  and 
beckoning  to  Ralph  to  take  his  former  place  under  the  tree, 
and  not  to  stand  in  the  falling  rain — of  w'hich,  in  his  first 
surprise,  he  had  been  quite  regardless — addressed  him  in  a 
hoarse  faint  tone. 

"  You  would  hardly  have  known  me  from  my  voice,  I  sup- 
pose, Mr.  Nickleby  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,"  returned  Ralph,  bending  a  severe  look  upon  him. 
"  Though  there  is  something  in  that,  that  I  remember  now." 

"  There  is  little  in  me  that  you  can  call  to  mind  as  having 
been  there  eight  years  ago,  I  dare  say  ?  "  observed  the  other. 

"Quite  enough,"  said  Ralph,  carelessly,  and  averting  his 
face.     "  More  than  enough." 

"  If  I  had  remained  in  doubt  about  you,  Mr.  Nickleby," 
said  the  other,  "this  reception,  and jF^/^r  manner,  would  have 
decided  me  very  soon." 

"  Did  you  expect  any  other?"  asked  Ralph,  sharply. 

"  No  !  "  said  the  man. 

"You  were  right,"  retorted  Ralph  ;  "and  as  you  feel  no 
surprise,  need  express  none." 


568  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  the  man,  bluntly,  after  a  brief  pause, 
durina:  which  he  had  seemed  to  stru^firle  with  an  inclination 
to  answer  him  by  some  reproach,  "  will  you  hear  a  few  words 
that  I  have  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  am  obliged  to  wait  here  till  the  rain  holds  a  little,^' 
said  Ralph,  looking  abroad.  "  If  you  talk,  sir,  I  shall  not 
put- my  fingers  in  my  ears,  though  your  talking  may  have  as 
much  effect  as  if  I  did." 

"  I  was  once  in  your  confidence — ,"  thus  his  companion 
began.      Ralph  looked  round,  and  smiled  involuntarily. 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  "  as  much  in  your  confidence  as 
you  ever  chose  to  let  anybody  be." 

"  Ah  !  "  rejoined  Ralph,  folding  his  arms  ;  "  that's  another 
thing,  quite  another  thing." 

"  Don't  let  us  play  upon  words,  Mr.  Nickleby,  in  the  name 
of  humanity." 

"  Of  what  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"Of  humanity,"  replied  the  other,  sternly.  "  I  am  hungry 
and  in  want.  If  the  change  that  you  must  see  in  me  after  so 
long  an  absence — must  see,  for  I,  upon  whom  it  has  come  by 
slow  and  hard  degrees,  see  it  and  know  it  well — will  not  move 
you  to  pity,  let  the  knowledge  that  bread — not  the  daily  bread 
of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  which,  as  it  is  offered  up  in  cities  like 
this,  is  understood  to  include  half  the  luxuries  of  the  w'orld 
for  the  rich,  and  just  as  much  coarse  food  as  will  support  life 
for  the  poor — not  that,  but  bread,  a  crust  of  dry  hard  bread, 
is  beyond  my  reach  to-day — let  that  have  some  weight  with 
you,  if  nothing  else  has." 

"  If  this  is  the  usual  form  in  which  you  beg,  sir,"  said 
Ralph,  "  you  have  studied  your  part  well  ;  but  if  you  will  take 
advice  from  one  who  knows  something  of  the  world  and  its 
ways,  I  should  recommend  a  lower  tone ;  a  little  lower  tone, 
or  you  stand  a  fair  chance  of  being  starved  in  good  earnest." 

As  he  said  this,  Ralph  clenched  his  left  wrist  tightly  with 
his  right  hand,  and  inclining  his  head  a  little  on  one  side  and 
dropping  his  chin  upon  his  breast,  looked  at  him  whom  he 
addressed  with  a  frowning,  sullen  face.  The  very  picture  of 
a  man  whom  nothing  could  move  or  soften. 

"  Yesterday  was  my  first  day  in  London,"  said  the  old 
man,  glancing  at  his  travel-stained  dress  and  worn  shoes. 

"  It  would  have  been  better  for  you,  I  think,  if  it  had  been 
your  last  also,"  replied  Ralph. 

"  I  have  been  seeking  you  these  two  days,  where  I  thought 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  ^(5g 

you  were  most  likely  to  be  found,"  resumed  the  other  more 
humbly,  "and  I  met  you  here  at  last,  when  I  had  almost 
given  up  the  hope  of  encountering  you,  Mr.  Nickleby." 

He  seemed  to  wait  for  some  reply,  but  Ralph  giving  him 
none,  he  continued  : 

"  I  am  a  most  miserable  and  wretched  outcast,  nearly 
sixty  years  old,  and  as  destitute  and  helpless  as  a  child  of  six." 

"  I  am  sixty  years  old,  too,"  replied  Ralph,  "  and  am  neither 
destitute  nor  helpless.  Work.  Don't  make  fine  play-acting- 
speeches  about  bread,  but  earn  it." 

"  How  ?  "  cried  the  other.  "Where  ?  Show  me  the  means. 
Will  you  give  them  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  did  once,"  replied  Ralph,  composedly,  "  you  scarcely 
need  ask  me  whether  I  will  again." 

"  It's  twenty  years  ago,  or  more,"  said  the  man,  in  a  sup- 
pressed voice,  "  since  you  and  I  fell  out.  You  remember 
that.?  I  claimed  a  share  in  the  profits  of  some  business  I 
brought  to  you,  and,  as  I  persisted,  you  arrested  me  for  an 
old  advance  of  ten  pounds,  odd  shillings,  including  interest  at 
fifty  percerit.^qr  so."  -"««»«-, 

"  I  fememSer  something  of  it,"  replied  Ralph,  carelessly. 
"  What  then  .?  " 

"  That  didn't  part  us,"  said  the  man.  "  I  made  submission, 
being  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  bolts  and  bars ;  and  as  you 
were  not  the  made  man  then  that  you  are  now,  you  were  glad 
enough  to  take  back  a  clerk  who  wasn't  over  nice,  and  who 
knew  something  of  the  trade  you  drove." 

'"You  begged  and  prayed,  and  I  consented,"  returned 
Ralph.  "  That  was  kind  of  me.  Perhaps  I  did  want  you.  I 
forget.  I  should  think  I  did,  or  you  would  have  begged  in 
vain.  You  were  useful ;  not  too  honest,  not  too  delicate^  not 
too  nice  of  hand  or  heart  ;  but  useful." 

^"  Useful,  indeed!"  said  the  man.  "Come.  You  had 
pinchedand  ground  nie  down  for  some  years  before  that,  but 
Iliad  served  you  faithfully  up  to  that  time,  in  spite  of  all 
your  dog's  usage.     Had  I  ?  " 

Ralph  made  no  reply. 

"  Had  11  "  said  the  man  again. 

"  You  had  had  your  wages,"  rejoined  Ralph,  "  and  had 
done  your  work.  We  stood  on  equal  ground  so  far,  and  could 
both  cry  quits." 

"  Then,  but  not  afterwards,"  said  the  other. 

"  Not  afterwards,   certainly,  nor  even  then,  for  (as  you 


S70 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


have  just  said)  you  owed   me  money^   and  do  still,"  replied 
Ralph. 

"  That's  not  all,"  said  the  man,  eagerly.  *'  That's  not  all. 
Mark  that.  I  didn't  forget  that  old  sore,  trust  me.  Partly  in 
remembrance  of  that,  and  partly  in  the  hope  of  making  money 
some  day  by  the  scheme,  I  took  advantage  of  my  position 
about  you,  and  possessed  myself  of  a  hold  uponyou,  which 
you  would  give  h aTf'oT^alt'^fSu.Th a^ye^ToH^^  never  can 

kiTO\v'bVit'throuoJi'^mer  t  left  you — long  after  that  time,  re- 
TTiember^and,  for  some  poor  trickery  that  came  within  the 
law,  but  was  nothing  to  what  you  money-makers  daily  practise 
just  outside  its  bounds,  was  sent  away  a  convict  for  seven 
years.  I  ha\'e  returned  what  you  see  me.  Now,  Mr.  Nickle- 
by,"  said  the  man,  with  a  strange  mixture  of  humility  and 
sense  of  power,  "  what  help  and  assistance  will  you  give  me  ; 
what  bribe,  to  speak  out  plainly  ?  My  expectations  are  not 
monstrous,  but  I  must  live,  and  to  live  I  must  eat  and  drink. 
Money  is  on  your  side,  and  hunger  and  thirst  are  on  mine. 
You  may  drive  an  easy  bargain." 

"  Is  that  all  1 "  said  Ralph,  still  eyeing  his  companion 
with  the  same  steady  look,  and  moving  nothing  but  his  lips. 

"  It  depends  on  you,  Mr.  Nickleby,  whether  that's  all  or 
not,"  was  the  rejoinder. 

"  Why  then,  harkye,  Mr. ,  I  don't  know  by  what  name 

I  am  to  call  you,"  said  Ralph. 

"  By  my  old  one,  if  you  like." 

"  Why,  then,  harkye,  Mr.  Brooker,"  said  Ralph,  in  his 
harshest  accents,  "  and  don't  expect  to  draw  another  speech 
from  me.  Harkye,  sir.  I  know  you  of  old  for  a  ready 
scoundrel  ;  but  you  never  had  a  stout  heart ;  and  hard  work, 
with  (maybe)  chains  upon  those  legs  of  yours,  and  shorter  food 
than  when  I  '  pinched  '  and  '  ground  '  you,  has  blunted  your 
wits,  or  you  would  not  come  with  such  a  tale  as  this  to  me. 
You  a  hold  upon  me  !  Keep  it,  or  publish  it  to  the  world,  if 
you  like."  '  — — 

■"'"I  can't  do  that,"  interposed   Brooker.     "That  wouldn't 
serve  me." 

"  Wouldn't  it  ?  "  said  Ralph.  "  It  will  serve  you  as  much 
as  bringing  it  to  me,  I  promise  you.  To  be  plain  with  you,  1 
am  a  careful  man,  and  know  my  affairs  thoroughly.  I  know 
the  world,  and  the  world  knows  me.     Whatever  you  gleaned, 

or  heard,  or  saw,  when  you  ser\'ed  me,  the  world   knows and 

magnifies  already.     You  could  tell  it  nothing  that  would  sur- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


571 


prise  it,  unless,  indeed,  it  redounded  to  my  credit  or  honor, 
and  then  it  would  scout  you  for  a  liar.  And  yet  1  don't  hnd 
business  slack,  or  clients  scrupulous.  Quite  the  contrary.  I 
am  rp\n1pd  or  tl"'^^g^tened^everx.,4ay>.by...QPe  man  or  another," 
said  Ralph  ;  "  but 'tilings  roll  on  just  the  same,  and  I  don't 
growj^oon^r  either." 

neither  revile  nor  threaten,"    rejoined  the  man.     "  I 
can, tell _YOU  of  what  you  have  lost  by  my  act,  what  I  only  can_ 
TPffSre'  and  what,  if  I  die  without  .restoring,  dies  with  me,  and 
neveFcan  be  regained." 

"  I  tell  my  money  pretty  accurately,  and  generally  keep  it 
in  my  own  custody,"  said  Ralph.  "  I  look  sharply  after  most 
men  that  I  deal  with,  and  most  of  all  1  looked  sharply  after 
you.     You  are  welcome  to  all  what  you  have  kept  from  me." 

"  Arc  lliose  of  your  own  name  dear  to  you  ?  "  said  the  man 
emphaiiciill)-.     "  if  they  are " 

"They  are  not,"  returned  Ralph,  exasperated  at  this  per- 
severance, and  the  thought  of  Nicholas,  which  the  last  ques- 
tion awakened.  "  They  are  not.  If  you  had  come  as  a 
common  beggar,  I  might  have  thrown  a  sixpence  to  you  in 
remembrance  of  the  clever  knave  you  used  to  be ;  but  since 
you  try  to  palm  these  stale  tricks  upon  one  you  might  have 
known  better,  I'll  not  part  with  a  halfpenny — nor  would  I  to 
save  you  from  rotting.  And  remember  this,  'scape-gallows," 
said  Ralph,  menacing  him  with  his  hand,  "that  if  we  meet 
again,  and  you  so  much  as  notice  me  by  one  begging  gesture, 
you  shall  see  the  inside  of  a  jail  once  more,  and  tighten  this 
hold  upon  me  in  intervals  of  the  hard  labor  that  vagabonds 
are  put  to.     There's  my  answer  to  your  trash.     Take  it." 

With  a  disdainful  scowl  at  the  object  of  his  anger,  who  met 
his  eye  but  uttered  not  a  word,  Ralph  walked  away  at  his 
usual  pace,  without  manifesting  the  slightest  curiosity  to  see 
what  became  of  his  late  companion,  or  indeed  once  looking 
behind  him.  The  man  remained  on  the  same  spot  with  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  his  retreating  figure  until  it  was  lost  to  view, 
and  then  drawing  his  arms  about  his  chest,  as  if  the  damp  and 
lack  of  food  struck  coldly  to  him,  lingered  with  slouching  steps 
by  the  wayside,  and  begged  of  those  who  passed  along. 

Ralph,  in  no-wise  moved  by  what  had  lately  passed, 
further  than  as  he  had  already  expressed  himself,  walked  de- 
liberately on,  and  turning  out  of  the  Park  and  leaving  Golden 
Square  on  his  right,  took  his  way  through  some  streets  at  the 
west  end  of  the  town  until  he  arrived  in  that  particular  one  in 


2  y  2  ^^J  C HO  LAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

which  stood  the  residence  of  Madame  MantaUni.  The  name 
of  that  lady  no  longer  appeared  on  the  tlaming  door-plate,  that 
of  Miss  Knag  being  substituted  in  its  stead  ;  but  the  bonnets 
and  dresses  were  still  dimly  visible  in  the  first-floor  windows 
by  the  decaying  light  of  a  summer's  evening,  and  excepting 
this  ostensible  alteration  in  the  proprietorship,  the  establish- 
ment wore  its  old  appearance. 

"  Humph  !  "  muttered  Ralph,  drawing  his  hand  across  his 
mouth  with  a  connoisseur-like  air,  and  surveying  the  house 
from  top  to  bottom  ;  "  these  people  look  pretty  well.  They 
can't  last  long  ;  but  if  I  know  of  their  going,  in  good  time,  I 
am  safe,  and  a  fair  profit  too.  I  must  keep  them  closely  in 
view  ;  that's  all." 

So,  nodding  his  head  very  complacently,  Ralph  was 
leaving  the  spot,  when  his  quick  ear  caught  the  sound  of  a 
confused  noise  and  hubbub  of  voices,  mingled  with  a  great 
running  up  and  down  stairs,  in  the  very  house  which  had  been 
the  subject  of  his  scrutiny  ■  and  while  he  was  hesitating 
whether  to  knock  at  the  door  or  listen  at  the  key-hole  a  little 
longer,  a  female  servant  of  Madame  Mantalini's  (whom  he 
had  often  seen)  opened  it  abruptly  and  bounced  out,  with  her 
blue  cap-ribands  streaming  in  the  air. 

"  Hallo  here.  Stop !  'f  cried  Ralph.  "  What's  the  matter  ? 
Here  am  I.     Didn't  you  hear  me  knock  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Nickleby,  sir,"  said  the  girl.  "  Go  up,  for  the 
love  of  Gracious.     Master's  been  and  done  it  again." 

"  Done  what  ?  "  said  Ralph,  tartly,   "  what  d'ye  mean  ?  " 

"  I  knew  he  would  if  he  was  drove  to  it,"  cried  the  girl. 
"  I  said  so  all  along." 

"  Come  here,  you  silly  wench,"  said  Ralph,  catching  her 
by  the  wrist  ;  "  and  don't  carr}'  family  matters  to  the  neigh- 
bors, destroving  the  credit  of  the  establishment.  Come  here  ; 
do  you  hear  me,  girl  ?  " 

Without  any  further  expostulation,  he  led  or  rather  pulled 
the  frightened  handmaid  into  the  house,  and  shut  the  door  ; 
then  bidding  her  walk  up  stairs  before  him,  followed  without 
more  ceremony. 

Guided  by'the  noise  of  a  great  many  voices  all  talking  to- 
gether, and  passing  the  girl  in  his  impatience,  before  they  had 
ascended  many  steps,  Ralph  quickly  reached  the  private  sitting 
room,  when  he  was  rather  amazed  by  the  confused  and  inex- 
plicable scene  in  which  he  suddenly  found  himself. 

There  were  all  the  young-lady  workers,  some  with  bonnets 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  c  7  ^ 

and  some  without,  in  various  attitudes  expressive  of  alarm  and 
consternation ;  some  gathered  round  Madame  Mantahni,  wlio 
was  in  tears  upon  one  chair  ;  and  others  round  Miss  Knag, 
who  was  in  opposition  tears  upon  another  ;  and  others  round 
Mr.  Mantahni,  who  was  perhaps  t'le  most  striking  figure  in 
the  whole  group,  for  Mr.  Mantalini's  legs  were  extended  at 
full  length  upon  the  floor,  and  his  head  and  shoulders  were 
supported  by  a  very  tall  footman,  who  didn't  seem  to  know 
what  to  do  with  them,  and  Mr.  Mantalini's  eyes  were  closed, 
and  his  face  was  pale,  and  his  hair  was  comparatively  straight, 
and  his  whiskers  and  moustache  were  limp,  and  his  teeth  were 
clenched,  and  he  had  a  little  bottle  in  his  right-hand,  and  a  little 
tea-spoon  in  his  left,  and  his  hands,  arms,  legs,  and  shoulders, 
were  all  stiff  and  powerless.  And  yet  Madame  Mantahni  was 
not  weeping  upon  the  body,  but  was  scolding  violently  upon 
her  chair  •  and  all  this  amidst  a  clamor  of  tongues,  perfectly 
deafening,  and  which  really  appeared  to  have  driven  the  un- 
fortunate footm.an  to  the  utmost  verge  of  distraction. 

"  What  is  the  matter  here .''  "  said  Ralph,  pressing  for- 
ward. 

At  this  inquiry,  the  clamor  was  increased  twenty-fold,  and 
an  astounding  string  of  such  shrill  contradictions  as  "  He's 
poisoned  himself  " — "  He  hasn't  " — "Send  for  a  doctor" — 
"  Don't  "— "  He's  dying  "•-"  He  isn't,  he's  only  pretending  " 
— with  various  other  cries,  poured  forth  with  bewildering 
volubiUty,  until  Madame  Mantahni  was  seen  to  address  her- 
self to  Ralph,  when  female  curiosity  to  know  what  she  would 
say,  prevailed,  and,  as  if  by  general  consent,  a  dead  silence, 
unbroken  by  a  single  whisper,  instantaneously  succeeded. 

"  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  Madame  Mantahni  ;  "  by  what 
chance  you  came  here,  I  don't  know." 

Here  a  gurgling  voice  was  heard  to  ejaculate,  as  part  of 
the  wanderings  of  a  sick  man,  the  words  "  Demnition  sweet- 
ness !  "  But  nobody  heeded  them  except  the  footman,  who, 
being  startled  to  hear  such  awful  tones  proceeding,  as  it  were, 
from  between  his  very  fingers,  dropped  his  master's  head 
upon  the  floor  with  a  prett}'  loud  crash,  and  then,  without  an 
effort  to  lift  it  up,  gazed  upon  the  bystanders,  as  if  he  had 
done  something  rather  clever  than  otherwise. 

''I  will,  howe\er,"  continued  Madame  Mantahni,  drying 
her  eyes,  and  speaking  with  great  indignation,  "  say  before 
you,  and  everybody  here,  for  the  first  time,  and  once  for  all, 
that  I  never  will  supply  that  man's  extravagances  and  vicious- 


574  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

ness  again.  I  have  been  a  dupe  and  a  fool  to  him  long 
enough.  In  future,  he  shall  support  himself  if  he  can,  and 
then  he  may  spend  what  money  lie  pleases,  upon  whom  and 
how  he  pleases  ;  but  it  shall  not  be  mine,  and  therefore  you 
had  better  pause  before  you  trust  him  further." 

Thereupon  Madame  Mantalini,  quite  unmoved  by  some 
most  pathetic  lamentations  on  the  part  of  her  husband,  that 
the  apothecary  had  not  mixed  the  prussic  acid  strong  enough, 
and  that  he  must  take  another  bottle  or  two  to  finish  the  work 
he  had  in  hand,  entered  into  a  catalogue  of  that  amiable  gen- 
tleman's gallantries,  deceptions,  extravagances,  and  infidelities 
(especially  the  last),  winding  up  with  a  protest  against  being 
supposed  to  entertain  the  smallest  remnant  of  regard  for  him  ; 
and  adducing,  in  proof  of  the  altered  state  of  her  affections, 
the  circumstance  of  his  having  poisoned  himself  in  private  no 
less  than  six  times  within  the  last  fortnight,  and  her  not  hav- 
ing once  interfered  by  word  or  deed  to  save  his  life. 

"  And  I  insist  on  being  separated  and  left  to  myself,"  said 
Madame  Mantalini,  sobbing.  "  If  he  dares  to  refuse  me  a 
separation,  I'll  have  one  in  law — I  can — and  I  hope  this  will 
be  a  warning  to  all  girls  who  have  seen  this  disgraceful  ex- 
hibition." 

Miss  Knag,  who  was  unquestionably  the  oldest  girl  in 
company,  said  with  great  solemnity,  that  it  would  be  a  warn- 
ing to  he)\  and  so  did  the  young  ladies  generally,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  one  or  two  who  appeared  to  entertain  doubts 
whether  such  whiskers  could  do  wrong. 

"  Why  do  you  say  all  this  before  so  many  listeners  ?  "  said 
Ralph,  in  a  low  voice.     "  You  know  you  are  not  in  earnest." 

"  I  am  in  earnest,"  replied  Madame  Mantalini,  aloud,  and 
retreating  toward  Miss  Knag. 

"Well,  but  consider,"  reasoned  Ralph,  who  had  a  great 
interest  in  the  matter.  "  It  would  be  well  to  reflect.  A  mar- 
ried woman  has  no  property." 

"  Not  a  solitary  single  individual  dem,  my  soul,"  said  Mr. 
Mantalini,  raising  himself  upon  his  elbow. 

"  I  am  quite  aware  of  that,"  retorted  Madame  Mantalini, 
tossing  her  head,  "  and  /  have  none.  The  business,  the 
stock,  this  house,  and  everything  in  it,  all  belong  to  Miss 
Knag." 

"That's  quite  true,  Madame  Mantalini,"  said  Miss  Knag, 
with  whom  Iht  late  employer  Jiad  secretl}'  come  to  an  nmica- 
ble  underslantling  on   this  point.     "  Very   true,  indeed,  Mad- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  575 

ame  Mantalini — hem — very  true.  And  I  never  was  more  glad 
in  all  my  life,  that  I  had  strength  of  mind  to  resist  matrimo- 
nial offers,  no  matter  how  advantageous,  than  I  am  when  I 
think  of  my  present  position  as  compared  with  your  most  un- 
fortunate and  most  undeserved  one,  Madame  Mantalini." 

"  Demmit  !  "  cried  Mr.  Mantalini,  turning  his  head 
towards  his  wife.  "  Will  it  not  slap  and  pinch  the  envious 
dowager,  that  dares  to  reflect  upon  its  own  delicious  ? " 

But  the  day  of  Mr.  Mantalini's  blandishments  had  de- 
parted. "  Miss  Knag,  sir,"  said  his  wife,  "  is  my  particular 
friend  ; "  and  although  Mr.  Mantalini  leered  till  his  eyes 
seemed  in  danger  of  never  coming  back  to  their  right  places 
again,  Madame  Mantalini  showed  no  signs  of  softening. 

To  do  the  excellent  Miss  Knag  justice,  she  had  been 
mainly  instrumental  in  bringing  about  this  altered  state  of 
things,  for,  linding  by  daily  experience,  that  there  was  no 
chance  of  the  business  thriving,  or  even  continuing  to  exist, 
while  Mr.  Mantalini  had  any  hand  in  the  expenditure,  and 
having  now  a  considerable  interest  in  its  well-doing,  she  had 
sedulously  applied  herself  to  the  investigation  of  some  little 
matters  connected  with  that  gentleman's  private  character, 
which  she  had  so  well  elucidated,  and  artfully  imparted  to 
Madame  Mantalini,  as  to  open  her  eyes  more  effectually  than 
the  closest  and  most  philosophical  reasoning  could  have  done 
in  a  series  of  years.  To  which  end,  the  accidental  discovery 
by  Miss  Knag  of  some  tender  correspondence,  in  which  Mad- 
ame Mantalini  was  described  as  "  old  "  and  "  ordinary',"  had 
most  providentially  contributed. 

However,  notwithstanding  her  firmness,  Madame  Man- 
talini wept  very  piteously ;  and  as  she  leant  upon  Miss  Knag, 
and  signed  towards  the  door,  that  young  lady  and  all  the  other 
young  ladies  with  sympathizing  faces,  proceeded  to  bear  her 
out. 

"  Nickleby,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini  in  tears,  "  you  have  been 
made  a  witness  to  this  demnhion  cruelty,  on  the  part  of  the 
demdest  enslaver  and  captivater  that  never  was,  oh  dem  !  1 
forgive  that  woman." 

"  Forgive  !  "  repeated  Madame  Mantalini,  angrily. 

"  I  do  forgive  her,  Nickleby,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini.  "  You 
will  blame  me,  the  world  will  blame  me,  the  women  will 
blame  me  ;  everybody  will  laugh,  and  scoff,  and  smile,  and 
grin  most  demnebly.  They  will  say,  '  She  had  a  blessing. 
She  did  not  know  it.    He  was  too  weak  ;  he  was  too  good  \  he 


e  ^5  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

was  a  dem'd  fine  fellow,  but  he  loved  too  strong  ;  he  could 
not  bear  her  to  be  cross,  and  call  him  wicked  names.  It  was 
a  dem'd  case,  there  never  was  a  demder.'  But  I  forgive  her." 
With  this  affecting  speech  Mr.  Mantalini  fell  down  again 
very  flat,  and  lay  to  all  appearance  without  sense  or  motion, 
until  all  the  females  had  left  the  room,  when  he  came  cau- 
tiously into  a  sitting  posture,  and  confronted  Ralph  with  a 
very  blank  face,  and  the  little  bottle  still  in  one  hand  and  the 
tea-spoon  in  the  other. 

"  You  may  put  away  those  fooleries  now,  and  live  by  your 
wits  again,"  said  Ralph,  coolly  putting  on  his  hat. 
"  Demmit,  Nickleby,  you're  not  serious  ?  " 
"  I  seldom  joke,"  said  Ralph.     "Good-night." 
"  No,  but  Nickleby,"  said  Mantalini. 

"  I  am  wrong,  perhaps,"  rejoined  Ralph.  "  I  hope  so. 
You  should  know  best.     Good-night." 

Affecting  not  to  hear  his  entreaties  that  he  would  stay  and 
advise  with  him,  Ralph  left  the  crest-fallen  Mr.  Mantalini  to 
his  meditations,  and  left  the  house  quietly. 

"Oho!"  he  said.  "Sets  the  wind  that  way  so  soon? 
Half  knave  and  half  fool,  and  detected  in  both  characters  ? 
I  think  your  day  is  over,  sir." 

As  he  said  this,  he  made  some  memorandum  in  his  pocket- 
book  in  which  Mr.  Mantalini's  name  figured  conspicuously, 
and  finding  by  his  watch  that  it  was  between  nine  and  ten 
o'clock,  made  all  speed  home. 

"  Are  they  here  ?  "  was  the  first  question  he  asked  of 
Newman. 

Newman  nodded.     "  Been  here  half-an-hour." 
"  Two  of  them  .?     One  a  fat  sleek  man  ?  " 
"  Ay,"  said  Newman.     "  In  your  room  now." 
"  Good,"  rejoined  Ralph.     "  Get  me  a  coach." 
"A    coach!     What    you— going    to— Eh  ? "     stammered 
Newman. 

Ralph  angrily  repeated  his  orders,  and  Noggs,  who  might 
well  have  been  excused  for  wondering  at  such  an  unusual  and 
extraordinary  circumstance  (for  he  had  never  seen  Ralph  in  a 
coach  in  his  life),  departed  on  his  errand,  and  presently  re- 
turned with  the  conveyance. 

Into  it  went  Mr.  Squeers,  and  Ralph,  and  the  third 
man,  whom  Newman  Noggs  had  never  seen.  Newman  stood 
upon  the  door-step  to  see  them  off,  not  troubhng  himself  to 
wonder  wlierc  or  upon  what  business  they  were  going,  until 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


577 


he  chanced  by  mere  accident  to  hear  Ralph  name  the  address 
whither  the  coaciiman  was  to  drive. 

Quick  as  lightning  and  in  a  state  of  the  most  extreme 
wonder,  Newman  darted  into  his  little  office  for  his  hat,  and 
limped  after  the  coach  as  if  with  the  intention  of  getting  up 
behind  ;  but  in  this  design  he  was  balked,  for  it  had  too  much 
the  start  of  him  and  was  soon  hopelessly  ahead,  leaving  him 
gaping  in  the  empty  street.  "-*- 

"I  don't  know  though,"  said  Noggs,  stopping  for  breath, 
"  any  good  that  I  could  have  done  by  going  too.  He  would 
have  seen  me  if  I  had.  Drive  there!  What  can  come  of 
this  !  If  I  had  only  known  it  yesterday  I  could  have  told — 
drive  there  !    There's  mischief  in  it.     There  must  be." 

His  reflections  were  interrupted  by  a  gray-haired  man  of 
a  very  remarkable,  though  far  from  prepossessing  appearance, 
who,  coming  stealthily  toward  him,  solicited  relief. 

Newman,  still  cogitating  deeply,  turned  away ;  but  the 
man  followed  him,  and  pressed  him  with  such  a  tale  of  misery 
that  Newman  (who  might  have  been  considered  a  hopeless 
person  to  beg  from,  and  who  had  little  enough  to  give)  looked 
into  his  hat  for  some  halfpence  which  he  usually  kept  screwed 
up,  when  he  had  any,  in  a  corner  of  his  pocket  handkerchief. 

While  he  was  busily  unt\visting  the  knot  with  his  teeth, 
the  man  said  something  which  attracted  his  attention  ;  what- 
ever that  something  was,  it  led  to  something  else  ;  in  the  end 
he  and  Newman  walked  away  side  by  side — the  strange  man 
talking  earnestly,  and  Newman  listening. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

CONTAINING   MATTER   OF    A   SURPRISING   KIND. 

"  As  we  gang  awa'  fra'  Lunnun  to-morrow  neeght,  and  as 
I  dinnot  know  that  I  was  e'er  so  happy  in  a'  my  days,  Misther 
Nickleby,  Ding !  but  I  will  tak'  anoother  glass  to  our  next 
merry  meeting !  " 

So  said  John  Browdie,  rubbing  his  hands  with  great  joy- 
ousness,  and  looking  round  him  with  a  ruddy  shining  face, 
quite  in  keeping  with  the  declaration, 

37 


578  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

The  time  at  which  Jolm  found  liimself  in  this  enviable 
condition,  was  the  same  evening  to  which  the  last  chapter 
bore  reference  ;  the  place  was  the  cottage  ;  and  the  assembled 
company  were  Nicholas,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  Mrs.  Browdie,  Kate 
Nickleby,  and  Smike. 

A  very  merry  party  they  had  been.  Mrs.  Nickleby,  know- 
ing of  her  son's  obligations  to  the  honest  Yorkshireman,  had, 
after  some  dinner,  yielded  her  consent  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Browdie  being  invited  out  to  tea  ;  in  the  way  of  which  ar- 
rangement, there  were  at  first  sundry  difficulties  and  obstacles, 
arising  out  of  her  not  having  had  an  opportunity  of  "  calling  " 
upon  Mrs.  Browdie  first  :  for  although  Mrs.  Nickleby  very 
often  observed  with  much  complacency  (as  most  punctilious 
people  do),  that  she  had  not  an  atom  of  pride  or  formality 
about  her,  still  she  was  a  great  stickler  for  dignity  and  cere- 
monies ;  and  as  it  was  manifest  that,  until  a  call  had  been  made, 
she  could  not  be  (politely  speaking,  and  according  to  the 
laws  of  society)  even  cognizant  of  the  fact  of  Mrs.  Browdie's 
existence,  she  felt  her  situation  to  be  one  of  peculiar  delicacy 
and  difficulty. 

"  The  call  must  originate  with  me,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  "  that's  indispensable.  The  fact  is,  my  dear,  that 
it's  necessary  there  should  be  a  sort  of  condescension  on  my 
part,  and  that  I  should  show  this  young  person  that  I  am 
willing  to  take  notice  of  her.  There's  a  very  respectable- 
looking  young  man,"  added  Mrs.  Nickleby,  after  a  short 
consideration,  "who  is  conductor  to  one  of  the  omnibuses 
that  go  by  here,  and  who  wears  a  glazed  hat — your  sister  and 
I  have  noticed  him  very  often — he  has  a  wart  upon  his  nose, 
Kate,  you  know,  exactly  like  a  gentleman's  servant." 

"  Have  all  gentlemen's  servants  warts  upon  their  noses, 
mother  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  Nicholas,  my  dear,  how  very  absurd  you  are,"  returned 
his  mother  •  "  of  course  I  mean  that  his  glazed  hat  looks  like 
a  gentleman's  servant,  and  not  the  wart  upon  his  nose ; 
though  even  that  is  not  so  ridiculous  as  it  may  seem  to  you, 
for  we  had  a  footboy  once,  who  had  not  only  a  wart,  but  a 
wen  also,  and  a  very  large  wen  too,  and  he  demanded  to 
have  his  wages  raised  in  consequence,  because  he  found  it 
came  very  expensive.  Let  me  see,  what  was  I — oh  yes,  I 
know.  The  best  way  that  I  can  think  of,  would  be  to  send  a 
card,  and  my  compliments  (I've  no  doubt  he'd  take  'em  for 
a  pot  of  porter,)  by  this  young  man,  to  the  Saracen  with  Two 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


579 


Necks,  If  the  waiter  took  him  for  a  gentleman's  servant,  so 
much  the  better.  Then  all  Mrs.  Browclie  would  have  to  do, 
would  be  to  send  her  card  back  by  the  earner  (he  could 
easily  come  with  a  double  knock),  and  ther;  s  an  end  of  it." 

"  My  dear  mother,"  said  Nicholas,  "  I  don't  suppose  such 
unsophisticated  people  as  these  ever  had  a  card  of  their  own, 
or  ever  will  have." 

"  Oh  that,  indeed,  Nicholas,  my  dear,"  returned  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  "that's  another  thing.  If  you  put  it  upon  that 
ground,  why  of  course,  I  have  no  more  to  say,  than  that  I 
have  no  doubt  they  are  very  good  sort  of  persons,  and  that  I 
have  no  kind  of  objection  to  their  coming  here  to  tea  if  they 
like,  and  shall  make  a  point  of  being  very  civil  to  them  if  they 
do." 

The  point  being  thus  effectually  set  at  rest,  and  Mrs. 
Nickleby  duly  placed  in  the  patronizing  and  mildly-condescend- 
ing position  which  became  her  rank  and  matrimonial  years, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browdie  were  invited  and  came  ;  and  as  they 
were  very  deferential  to  Mrs.  Nickleby,  and  seemed  to  have  a 
becoming  appreciation  of  her  greatness,  and  were  very  much 
pleased  with  everything,  the  good  lady  had  more  than  once 
given  Kate  to  understand,  in  a  whisper,  that  she  thought  they 
were  the  very  best-meaning  people  she  had  ever  seen,  and 
perfectly  well  behaved. 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass,  that  John  Browdie  declared,  in 
the  parlor  after  supper,  to  wit,  at  twenty  minutes  before  eleven 
o'clock,  p.  m.,  that  he  had  never  been  so  happy  in  all  his 
days. 

Nor  was  Mrs.  Browdie  much  behind  her  husband  in  this 
respect,  for  that  young  matron,  whose  rustic  beauty  contrasted 
very  prettily  with  the  more  delicate  loveliness  of  Kate,  and 
without  suffering  by  the  contrast  either,  for  each  served  as  it 
were  to  set  off  and  decorate  the  other,  could  not  sufficiently 
admire  the  gentle  and  winning  manners  of  the  young  lady,  or 
the  engaging  affability  of  the  elder.  Then  Kate  had  the  art 
of  turning  the  conversation  to  subjects  upon  which  the  country 
girl,  bashful  at  first  in  strange  company,  could  feel  herself  at 
home  ;  and  if  Mrs.  Nickleby  was  not  quite  so  felicitous  at 
times  in  the  selection  of  topics  of  discourse,  or  if  she  did  seem, 
as  Mrs.  Browdie  expressed  it,  "  rather  high  in  her  notions," 
still  nothing  could  be  kinder,  and  that  she  took  considerable 
interest  in  the  young  couple  was  manifest  from  the  very  long 
lectures  on  housewifery  with  which  she  was  so  obliging  as  to 


58o 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


entertain  Mrs.  Browdie's  private  ear,  which  were  illustrated 
by  various  references  to  the  domestic  econom}-  of  the  cottage, 
in  which  (those  duties  falling  exclusively  upon  Kate)  the  good 
lady  had  about  as  much  share,  either  in  theory  or  practice,  as 
any  one  of  the  statues  of  the  Twelve  Apostles  which  embellish 
the  exterior  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 

"  Mr.  Browdie,"  said  Kate,  addressing  his  young  wife,  "  is 
the  best-humored,  the  kindest  and  heartiest  creature  1  ever 
saw.  If  I  were  oppressed  with  I  don't  know  how  many  cares, 
it  would  make  me  happy  only  to  look  at  him." 

"  He  does  seem  indeed,  upon  my  word,  a  most  excellent 
creature,  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  ;  "most  excellent.  And 
I  am  sure  that  at  all  times  it  will  give  me  pleasure — really 
pleasure  now — to  have  you,  Mrs.  Browdie,  to  see  me  in  this 
plain  and  homely  manner.  We  make  no  display,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  with  an  air  which  seemed  to  insinuate  that  they 
could  make  a  vast  deal  if  they  were  so  disposed  ;  "  no  fuss, 
no  preparation  ;  I  wouldn't  allow  it.  I  said  '  Kate,  my  dear, 
you  will  only  make  Mrs.  Browdie  feel  uncomfortable,  and  how 
very  foolish  and  inconsiderate  that  would  be  !  " 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  I  am  sure,  ma'am,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Browdie,  gratefully.  "  It's  nearly  eleven  o'clock, 
John.     I  am  afraid  we  are  keeping  you  up  very  late,  ma'am." 

"  Late ! "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  a  sharp  thin  laugh, 
and  one  little  cough  at  the  end,  like  a  note  of  admiration  ex- 
pressed. "This  is  quite  early  for  us.  We  used  to  keep  such 
hours  1  Twelve,  one,  two,  three  o'clock  was  nothing  to  us. 
Balls,  dinners,  card-parties  !  Never  were  such  rakes  as  the 
people  about  where  we  used  to  live.  I  often  think  now,  I  am 
sure,  that  how  we  ever  could  go  through  with  it  is  quite  as- 
tonishing, and  that  is  just  the  evil  of  having  a  large  connec- 
tion and  being  a  great  deal  sought  after,  which  I  would  recom- 
mend all  young  married  people  steadily  to  resist ;  though  of 
course,  and  it's  perfectly  clear,  and  a  ver}''  happy  thing  too,  / 
think,  that  very  few  young  married  people  can  be  exposed  to 
such  temptations.  There  was  one  family  in  particular,  that 
used  to  live  about  a  mile  from  us — not  straight  down  the  road, 
but  turning  sharp  off  to  the  left  by  the  turnpike  where  the 
Plymouth  mail  ran  over  the  donkey — that  were  quite  extraordi- 
nary people  for  giving  the  most  extravagant  parties,  with  arti- 
ficial flowers  and  champagne,  and  variegated  lamps,  and,  in 
short,  every  delicacy  of  eating  and  drinking  that  the  most  singu- 
lar epicure  could  possibly  require.     I   don't   think  there  ever 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


S8i 


were  such  people  as  those  Peltiroguses.  You  remember  the 
Peltiroguses,  Kate  ? " 

Kate  saw  that  for  the  ease  and  comfort  of  the  visitors  it 
was  high  time  to  stay  this  flood  of  recollection,  so  answered 
that  she  entertained  of  the  Peltiroguses  a  most  vivid  and  dis- 
tinct remembrance  ;  and  then  said  that  Mr.  Browdie  had  half 
promised,  early  in  the  evening,  that  he  would  sing  a  York- 
shire song,  and  that  she  was  most  impatient  that  he  should 
redeem  his  promise,  because  she  was  sure  it  would  afford  her 
mama  more  amusement  and  pleasure  than  it  was  possible  to 
express. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  confirming  her  daughter  with  the  best  possi- 
ble grace — for  there  was  patronage  in  that  too,  and  a  kind  of 
implication  that  she  had  a  discerning  taste  in  such  matters,  and 
was  something  of  a  critic — John  Browdie  proceeded  to  con- 
sider the  words  of  some  north-country  ditty,  and  to  take  his 
wife's  recollection  respecting  the  same.  This  done,  he  made 
divers  ungainly  movements  in  his  chair,  and  singling  out  one 
particular  fly  on  the  ceiling  from  the  other  flies  there  asleep, 
fixed  his  eyes  on  him,  and  began  to  roar  a  meek  sentiment 
(supposed  to  be  uttered  by  a  gentle  swain  fast  pining  away 
with  love  and  despair)  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  verse,  as  though -some  person  with- 
out had  waited  until  then  to  make  himself  audible,  was  heard 
a  loud  and  violent  knocking  at  the  street-door  ;  so  loud  and 
so  violent,  indeed,  that  the  ladies  started  as  by  one  accord, 
and  John  Browdie  stopped. 

"  It  must  be  some  mistake,"  said  Nicholas,  carelessly, 
"We  know  nobody  who  would  come  here  at  this  hour," 

Mrs.  Nickleby  surmised,  however,  that  perhaps  the  count-, 
ing-house  was  burnt  down,  or  perhaps  '  Mr.  Cheer)bles  '  had 
sent  to  take  Nicholas  into  partnership  (which  certainly  ap- 
peared highly  probable  at  that  time  of  night),  or  perhaps  Mr. 
Linkinwater  had  run  away  with  the  property,  or  perhaps  Miss 
La  Creevy  was  taken  ill,  or  perhaps- 

But  a  hasty  exclamation  from  Kate  stopped  her  abruptly 
in  her  conjectures,  and  Ralph  Nickleby  walked  into  the  room. 

"  Stay,"  said  Ralph,  as  Nicholas  rose,  and  Kate,  making 
her  way  towards  him,  threw  herself  upon  his  arm,  "  Before 
that  boy  says  a  word,  hear  me." 

Nicholas  bit  his  lip  and  shook  his  head  in  a  threatening 
manner,  but  appeared  for  the  moment  unable  to  articulate  a 
syllable.     Kate  clung  closer  to  his  arm,  Smike  retreated,  be- 


582 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


hinc]  them,  and  John  Browdie,  who  had  heard  of  Ralph,  and  ap- 
peared to  have  no  great  difficuUy  in  recognizing  him,  stepped 
between  the  old  man  and  his  young  friend,  as  if  with  the  inten- 
tion of  preventing  either  of  them  from  advancing  a  step  further. 

"  Hear  me,  I  say,"  said  Ralph,   "  and  not  him." 

"  Say  what  thou'st  gotten  to  say  then,  sir,"  retorted  John  ; 
"  and  tak'  care  thou  dinnot  put  up  angry  bluid  which  thou'dst 
betther  try  to  quiet." 

"I  should  know  yoii,^''  said  Ralph,  "by  your  tongue;  and 
huti  "  (pointing  to  Smike)  "  by  his  looks." 

"  Don't  speak  to  him,"  said  Nicholas,  recovering  his  voice. 
"  I  will  not  have  it.  I  will  not  hear  him.  I  do  not  know  that 
man.  I  cannot  breathe  the  air  that  he  ^corrupts.  His  pres- 
ence is  an  insult  to  my  sister.  It  is  shame  to'see  him.  I  will 
not  bear  it." 

"  Stand ! "  cried  John,  laying  his  heavy  hand  upon  his 
chest. 

"Then  let  him  instantly  retire,"  said  Nicholas,  struggling. 
"  I  am  not  going  to  lay  hands  upon  him,  but  he  shall  with- 
draw. I  will  not  have  him  here.  John,  John  Browdie,  is  this 
my  house,  am  I  a  child  ?  If  he  stands  there,"  cried  Nicholas, 
burning  with  fury,  "  looking  so  calmly  upon  those  who  know 
his  black  and  dastardly  heart,  he'll  drive  me  mad." 

To  all  these  exclamations  John  Browdie  answered  not  a 
word,  but  he  retained  his  hold  upon  Nicholas  ;  and  when  he 
was  silent  again,  spoke.  i 

"There's  more  to  say  and  hear  than  thou  think'st  for," 
said  John.  "  I  tell'ee  I  ha'  gotten  scent  o'  thot  already. 
Wa'at  be  that  shadow  ootside  door  there  ?  Noo  school- 
measther,  show  thyself,  mun  ;  dinnot  be  sheame-feaced.  Noo, 
auld  gen'l'man,  let's  have  schoolmeasther,  coom." 

Hearing  this  adjuration,  Mr.  Squeers,  who  had  been  lin- 
gering in  the  passage  until  such  time  as  it  should  be  expedient 
for  him  to  enter  and  he  could  appear  with  effect,  was  fain  to 
present  himself  in  a  somewhat  undignified  and  sneaking  way  ; 
at  which  John  Browdie  laughed  with  such  keen  and  heartfelt 
delight,  that  even  Kate,  in  all  the  pain,  anxiety  and  surprise 
of  the  scene,  and  though  the  tears  were  in  her  eyes,  felt  a  dis- 
position to  join  him. 

"  Have  you  done  enjoying  yourself,  sir  ?  "  said  Ralph  at 
length. 

*•  Pratty  nigh  for  the  prasant  time,  sir,"  replied  John. 
I  can  wait,"  saifl  Ralph,      "  Take  your  own  time,  pray." 


II 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


583 


Ralph  waited  until  there  was  a  perfect  silence,  and  then 
turning  to  Mrs.  Nickleby,  but  directing  an  eager  glance  at 
Kate,  as  if  more  anxious  to  watch  his  effect  upon  her,  said  : 

"  Now,  ma'am,  listen  to  me.  I  don't  imagine  that  you 
were  a  party  to  a  ver)'  fine  tirade  of  words  sent  me  by  that 
boy  of  yours,  because  I  don't  believe  that  under  his  control, 
you  have  the  slightest  will  of  your  owrs  or  that  your  advice, 
your  opinion,  your  wants,  your  wishes,  anything  which  in 
nature  and  reason  (or  of  what  use  is  your  great  experience  ?) 
ought  to  weigh  with  him,  has  the  slightest  influence  or  weight 
whatever,  or  is  taken  for  a  moment  into  account." 

Mrs.  Nickleby  shook  her  head  and  sighed,  as  if  there  were 
a  good  deal  in  that,  certainly. 

"  For  this  reason,"  resumed  Ralph,  "  I  address  myself  to 
you,  ma'am.  For  this  reason,  partly,  and  partly  because  I  do 
not  wish  to  be  disgraced  by  the  acts  of  a  vicious  stripling 
whom  /  was  obliged  to  disown,  and  who,  afterwards,  in  his 
boyish  majesty  feigns  to — ha  !  ha ! — to  disown  me,  I  present 
myself  here  to  night.  I  have  another  motive  in  coming  :  a 
motive  of  humanity.  I  come  here,"  said  Ralph,  looking 
round  with  a  biting  and  triumphant  smile,  and  gloating  and 
dwelling  upon  the  words  as  if  he  were  loath  to  lose  the  pleas- 
ure of  saying  them,  "  to  restore  a  parent  his  child.  Ay,  sir," 
he  continued,  bending  eagerly  forward,  and  addressing  Nicho- 
las, as  he  marked  the  change  of  his  countenance,  "  to  restore 
a  parent  his  child  ;  his  son,  sir ;  trepanned,  waylaid,  and 
guarded  at  every  turn  by  you,  with  the  base  design  of  robbing 
him  some  day  of  any  little  wretched  pittance  of  which  he 
might  become  possessed." 

"  In  that,  you  know  you  lie,"  said  Nicholas,  proudly. 

"  In  this,  I  know  I  speak  the  truth.  I  have  his  father 
here,"  retorted  Ralph. 

"  Here  !  "  sneered  Squeers,  stepping  forward.  "  Do  you 
hear  that.?  Here!  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  be  careful  that  his 
father  didn't  turn  up,  and  send  him  back  to  me  ?  Why,  his 
ianier*s  my  friend  ;  he's  to  come  back  to  me  directly,  he  is. 
Now,  what  do  you  say — eh  ! — now — come — what  do  you  say 
to  that — an't  you  sorry  you  took  so  much  trouble  for  nothing  ? 
an't  you  ?  an't  you  }  " 

"  You  bear  upon  your  body  certain  marks  I  gave  you," 
said  Nicholas,  looking  quietly  away,  "  and  may  talk  in  ac- 
knowledgment of  them  as  much  as  you  please.  You'll  talk  a 
long  time  before  you  rub  them  out,  Mr.  Squeers." 


584 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


The  estimable  gentleman  last  named,  cast  a  hasty  look  at 
the  table,  as  if  he  were  prompted  by  this  retort  to  throw  a  jug 
or  bottle  at  the  head  of  Nicholas  ;  but  he  was  interrupted  in 
this  design  (if  such  design  he  had)  by  Ralph,  who,  touching 
him  on  the  elbow,  bade  him  tell  the  father  that  he  might  now 
appear  and  claim  his  son. 

This  being  purely  a  labor  of  love,  Mr.  Squeers  readily 
complied,  and  leaving  the  room  for  the  purpose,  almost  im- 
mediately returned,  supporting  a  sleek  personage  with  an  oily 
face,  who,  bursting  from  him,  and  giving  to  view  the  form  and 
face  of  Mr.  Snawley,  made  straight  up  to  Smike,  and  tucking 
that  poor  fellow's  head  under  his  arm  in  a  most  uncouth  and 
awkward  embrace,  elevated  his  broad-brimmed  hat  at  arm's 
length  in  the  air  as  a  token  of  devout  thanksgiving,  exclaim- 
ing, meanwhile  :  "  How  little  did  I  think  of  this  here  joyful 
meeting,  when  I  saw  him  last !     Oh,  how  little  did  I  think  it  !  " 

"  Be  composed,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  with  a  gruff  expression 
of  sympathy  ;  "  you  have  got  him  now." 
I        "  Got  him  !     Oh,  haven't  I   got  him !     Have  I  got  him, 
/  though  ?  "    cried   Mr.   Snawley,  scarcely  able  to  believe   it. 
[  "  Yes,  here  he  is,  flesh  and  blood,  flesh  and  blood." 
/         "Vary  little  flesh,"  said  John  Browdie. 
I         Mr.  Snawley  was  too  much  occupied  by  his  parental  feel- 
\  ings  to  notice  this  remark ;  and,  to  assure  himself  rriore  com- 
pletely of  the  restoration  of  his  child,  tucked  his  head  under 
his  arm  again,  and  kept  it  there. 
*■•**-     "  What  was  it,"  said  Snawley,  "  that  made  me  take  such  a 
strong  interest  in  him,  when  that  worthy  instructor  of  youth 
brought  him  to  my  house  t    What  was  it  that  made  me  burn 
all  over  with  a  wish  to  chastise  him  severely  for  cutting  away 
from  his  best  friends,  his  pastors  and  masters  ? " 

"It  was  parental  instinct,  sir,"  observed  Squeers. 

"  That's  what  it  was,  sir,"  rejoined  Snawley  ;  "  the  elevated 
feeling,  the  feeling  of  the  ancient  Romans  and  Grecians,  and 
of  the  beasts  of  the  field  and  birds  of  the  air,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  rabbits  and  tom-cats,  which  sometimes  devour  their 
offspring.  My  heart  yearned  towards  him.  I  could  have — • 
I  don't  know  what  I  couldn't  liave  done  to  him  in  the  anger 
of  a  father." 

"  It  only  shows  what  Natur  is,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Squeers. 
"  She's  arum 'un,  is  Natur." 

"  STie  is  a  holy  thing,  sir,"  remarked  Snawley. 

"  I  believe  you,"  added  Mr.  Squeers,  with  a  moral  sigh. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


585 


*'  I  should  like  to  know  how  we  should  ever  get  on  without 
her.  Natur,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  solemnly,  "  is  more  easier 
conceived  than  described.  Oh  what  a  blessed  thing,  sir,  to 
be  in  a  state  of  natur  !  " 

Pending  this  philosophical  discourse,  the  bystanders  had 
been  quite  stupefied  with  amazement,  while  Nicholas  had 
looked  keenly  from  Snawley  to  Squeers,  and  from  Squeers  to 
Ralph,  divided  between  his  feelings  of  clisgust,  doubt,  and  sur- 
prise. At  this  juncture,  Smike  escaping  from  his  father  fled 
to  Nicholas,  and  implored  him,  in  most  moving  terms,  never 
to  give  him  up,  but  to  let  him  live  and  die  beside  him. 

''Ifyou  arc  this  bny's  father,"  said-NieholttS',"  "  look  at  the 
wreck  Jie_]is,  aiul  lull  nic  thai  yuu  purpose  tosend  him  back  to 
that  loathsome  clcn  from  which  I  brousht  him." 

^~*^candal  again  !  "  cried  Squeers.  "  Recollect  !  You  an't 
worth  powder  and  shot,  but  Til  be  even  with  you  one  way  or 
another." 

"  Stop,"  said  Ralph,  as'  Snawley  was  about  to  speak.    "  Let 
us  cut  this  matter  short,  and  not  bandy  words  here  with  hair- 
brained  profligates.     This  is  your  son,  as  you  can  prove.    And' 
you,  Mi\"^ileers,  you  know  this  boy  to  be  the  same  that  was 
with  you  for  so  many  years  under  the  name  of  Smike.  Do  you  ? " 

"  Do  I  !  "  returned  Squeers.     "  Don't  I  .?" 

"  Good,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  a  very  few  words  will  be  sufficient 
here.     You  had  a  son  by  your  first  wife,  Mr.  Snawley  .?" 

"I  had,"  replied  that  person,  "and  there  he  stands." 

"  We'll  show  that  presently,"  said  Ralph.  "  You  and  your 
wife  were  separated,  and  she  had  the  boy  to  live  with  her, 
when  he  was  a  year  old.  You  received  a  communication  from 
her,  when  you  had  lived  apart  a  year  or  two,  that  the  boy  was 
dead  ;  and  you  believed  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  did  !  "  said  Snawley.     "  Oh  the  joy  of " 

"Be  rational,  sir,  pray,"  said  Ralph.  "Jhis  is'business, 
and  transports  interfere  with  it.  This  wife  died  a  year  and  a 
half  ago,  or  thereabout — not  more — in  some  obscure  place, 
where  she  was  housekeeper  in  a  family.     Is  that  the  case.?  " 

"That's  the  case,"  replied  Snawley. 

"Having  written  on  her  death-bed  a  letter  or  confession  to 
you,  about  this  very  boy,  which,  as  it  was  not  directed  other- 
wise than  in  your  name,  only  reached  you,  and  that  by  a  cir- 
cuitous course,  a  few  days  since  ?  " 

"  Just  so,"  said  Snawley.  "  Correct  in  every  particular, 
sir." 


586  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"And  this  confession,"  resumed  Ralph,  "  is  to  the  effect 
that  his  death  was  an  invention  of  hers  to  wound  you — was  a 
part  of  a  system  of  annoyance,  in  short,  which  you  seem  to 
have  adopted  towards  each  other — that  the  boy  Uved,  but  was 
of  weak  imperfect  intellect — that  she  sent  him  by  a  trusty 
hand  to  a  cheap  school  in  Yorkshire — that  she  had  paid  for 
his  education  for  some  years,  and  then,  being  poor,  and  going 
a  long  way  off,  gradually  deserted  him,  for  which  she  prayed 
forgiveness  ?  " 

Snawley  nodded  his  head,  and  wiped  his  eyes ;  the  first, 
slightly  ;  the  last,  violently. 

"The  school  was  Mr.  Squeers's,"  continued  Ralph  ;  "the 
boy  was  left  there  in  the  name  of  Smike ;  every  description 
was  fully  given,  dates  tally  exactly  with  Mr.  Squeers's  books, 
Mr.  Squeers  is  lodging  with  you  at  this  time  ;  you  have  two 
other  boys  at  his  school :  you  communicated  the  whole  dis- 
covery to  him,  he  brought  you  to  me  as  the  person  who  had 
recommended  to  him  the  kidnapper  of  his  child ;  and  I 
brought  you  here.     Is  that  so  ?  " 

"  You  talk  like  a  good  book,  sir,  that's  got  nothing  in  its 
inside  but  what's  the  truth,"  replied  Snawley. 

"  This  is  your  pocket-book,"  said  Ralph,  producing  one 
from  his  coat  ;  "  the  certificates  of  your  first  marriage  and  of 
the  boy's  birth,  and  your  wife's  two  letters,  and  every  other 
paper  that  can  support  these  statements  directly  or  by  impli- 
cation, are  here,  are  they  .''  " 

"Every  one  of  'em,  sir." 

"  And  you  don't  object  to  their  being  looked  at  here,  so 
that  these  people  may  be  convinced  of  your  power  to  substan- 
tiate your  claim  at  once  in  law  and  reason,  and  you  may  re- 
sume your  control  over  your  own  son  without  more  delay.  Do 
I  understand  you  ? " 

"  I  couldn't  have  understood  myself  better,  sir." 

"There  then,"  .said  Ralph,  tossing  the  pocket  book  upon 
the  table.  "  Let  them  see  them  if  they  like  ;  and  as  those  are 
the  original  papers,  I  should  recommend  you  to  stand  near 
while  they  are  being  examined,  or  you  may  chance  to  lose 
some." 

With  these  words  Ralph  sat  down  unbidden,  and  com- 
pressing his  lips,  which  were  for  the  moment  slightly  parted 
by  a  smile,  folded  his  arms,  and  looked  for  the  first  time  at 
his  nephew. 

Nicholas,  stung  by  the  concluding  taunt,  darted  an  indig- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  ^87 

nant  glance  at  him  ;  but  commanding  himself  as  well  as  he 
could,  entered  upon  a  close  examination  of  the  documents,  at 
which  John  Browdie  assisted.  There  was  nothing  about  them 
which  could  be  called  in  question.  The  certificates  were  reg- 
ularly signed  as  extracts  from  the  parish  books,  the  first  letter 
had  a  genuine  appearance  of  having  been  written  and  pre- 
served for  some  years,  the  handwriting  of  the  second  tallied 
with  it  exactly  (making  proper  allowance  for  its  having  been 
written  by  a  person  in  extremity,)  and  there  were  several  other 
corroboratory  scraps  of  entries  and  memoranda  which  it  was 
equally  difficult  to  question. 

"  Dear  Nicholas,"  whispered  Kate,  who  had  been  looking 
anxiously  over  his  shoulder,  "  can  this  be  really  the  case  ?  Is 
this  statement  true  ?  " 

"  I  fear  it  is,"  answered  Nicholas.  "  What  say  you, 
John  ?" 

John  scratched  his  head  and  shook  it,  but  said  nothins:  at 
all. 

"  You  will  observe,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph,  addressing  himself 
to  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  that  this  boy  being  a  minor  and  not  of 
strong  mind,  we  might  have  come  here  to-night,  armed  with 
the  powers  of  the  law,  and  backed  by  a  troop  of  its  mymiidons. 
I  should  have  done  so,  ma'am,  unquestionably,  but  for  my 
regard  for  the  feelings  of  yourself,  and  your  daughter." 

"  You  have  shown  your  regard  for  her  feelings  well,"  said 
Nicholas,  drawing  his  sister  towards  him. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Ralph.  "Your  praise,  sir,  is  com- 
mendation, indeed."  ~— v,..^~,«.,.™^~-~. 

"Well,"  said  Squeers,  "what's  to  be  done  ?  Them  hack- 
ney-coach horses  will  catch  cold  if  we  don't  think  of  moving ; 
there's  one  of  'em  a  sneezing  now,  so  that  he  blows  the  street 
door  right  open.  What's  the  order  of  the  day?  Is  Master 
Snawley  to  come  along  with  us  .-*  " 

"No,  no,  no,"  replied  Smike,  drawing  back,  and  clinging 
to  Nicholas.  "Ko.  Pray,  no.  I  will  not  go  from  you  with 
him.     No,  no." 

"  This  is  a  cruel  thing,"  said  Snawley,  looking  to  his 
friends  for  support.  "Do  parents  bring  children  into  the 
world  for  this  .-•  " 

"  Do  parents  bring  children  into  the  world  for  tJiof  ?  "  said 
John  Browdie  bluntly,  pointing,  as  he  spoke,  to  Squeers. 

"  Never  you  mind,"  retorted  that  gentleman,  tapping  his 
nose  derisively. 


58S  NICHOLAS  AVCh'LEBV. 

"Never  I  mind?"  said  John.  "No,  nor  never  nobody 
mind,  say'st  thou,  schoohiieasther.  "  It's  nobody's  minding 
that  keeps  sike  men  as  thou  afloat.  Noo  then,  where  be'st 
thou  coomin'  to.-'  Dang  it,  dinnot  coom  treadin' ower  me, 
mun." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  John  Browdie  just  jerked  his 
elbow  into  the  chest  of  Mr.  Squeers,  who  was  advancing  upon 
Smike,  with  so  much  dexterity  that  the  schoolmaster  reeled 
and  staggered  back  upon  Ralph  Nicklebv.  and,  being  unable 
to  recover  his  balance,  knocked  that  gentleman  off  his  chair, 
and  stumbled  heavily  upon  him. 

This  accidental  circumstance  was  the  signal  for  some  very 
decisive  proceedings.  In  the  midst  of  a  great  noise,  occa- 
sioned by  the  prayers  and  entreaties  of  Smike,  the  cries  and 
exclamations  of  the  women,  and  the  vehemence  of  the  men, 
demonstrations  were  made  of  carrving  off  the  lost  son  bv 
violence.  Squeers  had  actually  begun  to  haul  him  out,  when 
Nicholas  (who,  until  then,  had  been  evidently  undecided  how 
to  act)  took  him  by  the  collar,  and  shaking  him  so  that  such 
teeth  as  he  had,  chattered  in  his  head,  politely  escorted  him 
to  the  room  door,  and  thrusting  him  into  the  passage,  shut  it 
upon  him. 

"  Now,"  said  Nicholas,  to  the  other  two,  "have  the  kind- 
ness to  follow  your  friend." 

"  I  want  my  son,"  said  Snawley. 

"  Your  soi>,"  replied  Nicholas,  "chooses  for  himself.     He 

chooses"  to  remain  here,  and  he  shall."    —  "       ''""' 

■»"Yotf  won't  give  him  up?  "  said  Snawley. 

"  I  would  not  give  him  up  aeainst  his  will,  to   be  the  vic- 
itim  of  such  bruta_Uty,as.. that  to  \\fecTiy5ir would  consign  him," 
replied  Isri^IToTas,  "  if  he  were  a  dog  or  a  rat." 

"  Knock  that  Nickleby  down  with  a  candlestick,"  cried  Mr. 
Squeers,  through  the  keyhole,  "  and  bring  out  my  hat,  some- 
body, will  you,  unless  he  wants  to  steal  it." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  who,  with 
Mrs.  Browdie,  had  stood  crying  and  biting  her  fingers  in  a 
corner,  while  Kate  (very  pale,  but  perfectly  quiet)  had  kept 
as  near  to  her  brother  as  she  could.  "  I  am  very  sorry,  indeed, 
for  all  this.  I  really  don't  know  what  would  be  best  to  do, 
and  that's  the  truth.  Nicholas  ought  to  be  the  best  judge, 
and  I  hope  he  is.  Of  course,  it's  a  hard  thing  to  have  to 
keep  other  people's  children,  though  young  Mr.  Snawley  is 
certainly  as  useful  and  willing  as  it's  possible  for  anybody  to 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  ^gg 

be  ;  but,  if  it  could  be  settled  in  any  friendly  manner — if  old 
Mr.  Snawley,  for  instance,  would  settle  to  pay  something 
certain  for  his  board  and  lodging,  and  some  fair  arrangement 
was  come  to,  so  that  we  undertook  to  have  fish  twice  a-week, 
and  a  pudding  twice,  or  a  dumpling,  or  something  of  that 
sort — I  do  think  that  it  might  be  very  satisfactory  and  pleasant 
for  all  parties." 

This  compromise,  which  was  proposed  with  abundance  of 
tears  and  sighs,  not  exactly  meeting  the  point  at  issue,  nobody 
took  any  notice  of  it  ;  poor  Mrs.  Nickleby  accordingly  pro- 
ceeded to  enlighten  Mrs.  Browdie  upon  the  ad^'antages  of 
such  a  scheme,  and  the  unhappy  results  flowing,  on  all  oc- 
casions, from  her  not  being  attended  to  when  she  proffered 
her  advice. 

"You,  sir,"  said  Snawley,  addressing  the  terrified  Smike, 
"  are  an  unnatural,  ungrateful,  unlovable  boy.  You  won't  let 
me  love  you  when  I  want  to.  Won't  you  come  home,  won't 
you  .?  " 

"No,  no,  no,"  cried  Smike,  shrinking  back. 

"  He  never  loved  nobody,"  bawled  Squeers,  through  the 
keyhole.  "  He  never  loved  me  ;  he  never  loved  Wackford, 
who  is  next  door  but  one  to  a  cherubim.  How  can  you 
expect  that  he'll  love  his  father  ?  He'll  never  love  his  father, 
he  won't.  He  don't  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  father.  He 
don't  understand  it.     It  ain't  in  him." 

Mr.  Snawley  looked  steadfastly  at  his  son  for  a  full  minute, 
and  then  covering  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  once  more 
raising  his  hat  in  the  air,  appeared  deeply  occupied  ia  deplor- 
ing his  black  ingratitude.  Then  drawing  his  arm  across  his 
eyes,  he  picked  up  Mr.  Squeers's  hat,  and  taking  it  under 
one  arm,  and  his  own  under  the  other,  walked  slowly  and 
sadly  out. 

"Your  romance,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  lingering  for  a  moment, 
"  is  destroyed,  I  take  it.  No  unknown  ;  no  persecuted  de- 
scendant of  a  man  of  high  degree ;  the  weak  imbecile  son  of 
a  poor  petty  tradesman.  We  shall  see  how  your  sympathy 
melts  before  plain  matter  of  fact." 

"  You  shall,"  said  Nicholas,  motioning  towards  the  door. 

"  And  trust  me,  sir,"  added  Ralph,  "  that  I  never  supposed 

you  would  give  him  up  to-night.     Pride,  obstinacy,  reputation 

for  fine  feeling,  were  all  against  ifT"  These  must  be  brought 

down,   sirj^lowered,   crushed,   as    they  shall    be    soon.     The 

'protracted  and  wearing  anxiety  and  expense  of   the  law  in  its 


J  go  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

most  oppressive  form,  its  torture  from  hour  to  hour,  its  weary 
days  and  sleepless  nights,  with  these  I'll  prove  you,  and 
break  your  haughty  spirit,  strong  as  you  deem  it  now.  And 
wTien  you  make  this  house  a  hell,  and  visit  these  trials  _u£on_ 
yonder  wretched  object  (as  you  will,  I  know  you),  and  those 
who  think  you  now  a  young-fledged  hero,  we'll  go  into  old 
accounts  between  us  two,  and  see  who  stands  the  debtor,  and 
comes  out  best  at  last,  even  before  the  world." 

Ralph  Nickleby  withdrew.  But  Mr.  Squeers,  who  had 
heard  a  portion  of  this  closing  address,  and  was  by  this  time 
wound  up  to  a  pitch  of  impotent  malignity  almost  unprece- 
dented, could  not  refrain  from  returning  to  the  parlor-door, 
and  actually  cutting  some  dozen  capers  with  various  wry  faces 
and  hideous  grimaces,  expressive  of  his  triumphant  confidence 
in  the  dcHvnfall  and  defeat  of  Nicholas. 

Having  concluded  this  war  dance,  in  which  his  short 
trousers  and  large  boots  had  borne  a  very  conspicuous  figure, 
Mr.  Squeers  followed  his  friends,  and  the  family  were  left  to 
meditate  upon  recent  occurrences 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 


THROWS    SOME  LIGHT    UPON  NICHOLAS  S  LOVE  ;     BUT    WHETHER 
FOR  GOOD  OR  EVIL,  THE  READER  MUST  DETERMINE. 

After  an  anxious  consideration  of  the  painful  and  em- 
barrassing position  in  which  he  was  placed,  Nicholas  decided 
that  he  ought  to  lose  no  time  in  frankly  stating  it  to  the  kind 
brothers.  Availing  himself  of  the  first  opportunity  of  being 
alone  with  Mr.  Charles  Cheeryble  at  the  close  of  next  da}^, 
he  accordingly  related  Smike's  little  history,  and  modestly 
but  firmly  expressed  his  hope  that  the  good  old  gentleman 
would,  under  such  circumstances  as  he  described,  hold  him 
justified  in  adopting  the  extreme  course  of  interfering  between 
parent  and  child,  and  upholding  the  latter  in  his  disobedi- 
ence ;  even  though  his  horror  and  dread  of  his  father  might 
seem,  and  would  doubtless  be  represented  as,  a  thing  so  re- 
pulsive and  unnatural,  as  to  render  those  who  countenanced 
him  in  it,  fit  objects  of  general  detestation  and  abhorrence. 


NICHOLAS  NJCKLEBY.  ^gi 

"  So  deeply-rooted  does  this  horror  of  the  man  appear  to 
be,"  said  Nicholas,  "  that  I  can  hardly  believe  he  really  is  his 
son.  Nature  does  not  seem  to  have  implanted  in  his  breast 
one  lingering  feeling  of  affection  for  him,  and  surely  she  can 
never  err." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  replied  brother  Charles,  "  you  fall  into  the 
very  common  mistake,  of  charging  upon  Nature,  matters  with 
which  she  has  not  the  smallest  connection,  and  for  which  she 
is  in  no  way  responsible.  Men*  talk  of  nature  as  an  abstract 
thing,  and  lose  sight  of  what  is  -natural  while  ■  they  do  so. 
Here  is  a  poor  lad  who  has  never  felt  a  parent's  care,  who 
has  scarcely  known  anything  all  his  life  but  suffering  and  sor- 
row, presented  to  a  man  who  he  is  told  is  his  father,  and 
whose  first  act  is  to  signify  his  intention  of  putting  an  end  to 
his  short  term  of  happiness  of  consigning  him  to  his  old  fate, 
and  taking  him  from  the  only  friend  he  has  ever  had — which 
is  yourself.  If  Nature,  in  such  a  case,  put  into  that  lad's 
breast  but  one  secret  prompting  which  urged  him  towards  his 
father  and  away  from  you,  she  would  be  a  liar  and  an  idiot." 

Nicholas  was  delighted  to  find  that  the  old  gentleman 
spoke  so  warmly,  and  in  the  hope  that  he  might  say  something 
more  to  the  same  purpose,  made  no  reply, 

"  The  same  mistake  presents  itself  to  me,  in  one  shape  or 
other,  at  every  turn,"  said  brother  Charles.  "Parents  who 
never  showed  their  love,  complain  of  want  of  natural  affection 
in  their  children  ;  children  who  never  showed  their  duty,  com- 
plain of  want  of  natural  feeling  in  their  parents  ;  law-makers 
who  find  both  so  miserable  that  their  affections  have  never 
had  enough  of  life's  sun  to  develop  them,  are  loud  in  their 
moralizings  over  parents  and  children  too,  and  cry  that  the 
very  ties  of  nature  are  disregarded.  Natural  affections  and 
instincts,  my  dear  sir,  are  the  most  beautiful  of  the  Almighty's 
works,  but  like  other  beautiful  works  of  His,  they  must  be 
reared  and  fostered,  or  it  is  as  natural  that  they  should  be 
wholly  obscured,  and  that  new  feelings  should  usurp  their 
place,  as  it  is  that  the  sweetest  productions  of  the  earth,  left 
untended,  should  be  choked  with  weeds  and  briars.  I  wish 
we  could  be  brought  to  consider  this,  and,  remembering 
natural  obligations  a  little  more  at  the  right  time,  talk  about 
them  a  little  less  at  the  wrong  one." 

After  this,  brother  Charles,  who  had  talked  himself  into  a 
great  heat,  stopped  to  cool  a  little,  and  then  continued  : 

"  I  daresay  you  are   surprised,  my  dear   sir,  that   I   have 


r^  9  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

listened  to  your  recital  with  so  little  astonishment.  That  is 
easily  explained.     Your  uncle  has  been  here  this  morning." 

Nicholas  colored,  and  drew  back  a  step  or  two. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  tapping  his  desk  emphati- 
cally, "  here,  in  this  room.  He  would  listen  neither  to  reason, 
feeling,  nor  justice.  But  brother  Ned  was  hard  upon  him ; 
brother  Ned,  sir,  might  have  melted  a  paving-stone." 

"  He  came  to "  said  Nicholas. 

"To  complain  of  you," •returned  brother  Charles,  "to 
poison  our  ears  with  calummies  and  falsehoods ;  but  he  came 
on  a  fruitless  errand,  and  went  away  with  some  wholesome 
truths  in  his  ear  besides.  Brother  Ned,  my  dear  Mr.  Nickle- 
by — brother  Ned,  sir,  is  a  perfect  lion.  So  is  Tim  Linkin- 
water ;  Tim  is  quite  a  lion.  We  had  Tim  in  to  face  him  at 
first,  and  Tim  was  at  him,  sir,  before  you  could  say  'Jack 
Robinson.' " 

"  How  can  I  ever  thank  you,  for  all  the  deep  obligations 
you  impose  upon  me  every  day  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  By  keeping  silence  upon  the  subject,  my  dear  sir," 
returned  brother  Charles.  "  You  shall  be  righted.  At  least 
you  shall  not  be  wronged.  Nobody  belonging  to  you  shall  be 
wronged.  They  shall  not  hurt  a  hair  of  your  head,  or  the 
boy's  head,  or  your  mother's  head,  or  your  sister's  head. 
I  have  said  it,  brother  Ned  has  said  it,  Tim  Linkinwater 
has  said  it.  We  have  all  said  it,  and  we'll  all  do  it.  I 
have  seen  the  father — if  he  is  the  father — and  I  suppose  he 
must  be.  He  is  a  barbarian  and  a  hypocrite,  Mr.  Nickleby. 
I  told  him,  '  You  are  a  barbarian,  sir.'  I  did.  I  said,  'You're 
a  barbarian,  sir.'  And  Tm  glad  of  it,  I  am  very  glad  I  told 
him  he  was  a  barbarian,  very  glad,  indeed  !  " 

By  this  time  brother  Charles  was  in  such  a  very  warm 
state  of  indignation,  that  Nicholas  thought  he  might  venture 
to  put  in  a  word  ;  but  the  moment  he  essayed  to  do  so,  Mr. 
Cheer^'ble  laid  his  hand  softly  upon  his  arm,  and  pointed  to 
a  chair. 

"  The  subject  is  at  an  end  for  the  present,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  wiping  his  face.  "  Don't  revive  it  by  a  single 
word.  I  am  going  to  speak  upon  another  subject,  a  confi- 
dential subject,  Mr.  Nickleby.  We  must  be  cool  again,  we 
must  be  cool." 

After  two  or  three  turns  across  the  room  he  resumed  his 
seat,  and  drawing  his  chair  nearer  to  that  on  which  Nicholas 
was  seated,  said  : 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  <  593 

"  I  am  about  to  employ  you,  my  dear  sir,  on  a  confidential 
and  delicate  mission." 

"  You  might  employ  many  a  more  able  messenger,  sir," 
said  Nicholas,  "  but  a  more  trustworthy  or  zealous  one,  I  may 
be  bold  to  say  you  could  not  find." 

"  Of  that  I  am  well  assured,"  returned  brother  Charles, 
"  well  assured.  You  will  give  me  credit  for  thinking  so,  when 
I  tell  you,  that  the  object  of  thisjnis.§iQjLis„a_y.oung  lady."     „...- 

•'  A  youiTgTacly,  sir  !  "  cried  Nicholas,  quite  trembling  for 
the  moment  with  his  eagerness  to  hear  more. 

"  A  very  beautiful  young  lady,"  said  Mr.  Cheeryble, 
gravely. 

"  Pray  go  on,  sir,"  returned  Nicholas. 

"  I  am  thinking  how  to  do  so,"  said  brother  Charles  ;  sadly, 
as  it  seemed  to  his  young  friend,  and  with  an  expression  allied 
to  pain.  "  You  accidentally  saw  a  young  lady  in  this  room  one 
morning,  my  dear  sir,  in  a  fainting  fit.  Do  you  remember .'' 
Perhaps  you  have  forgotten." 

"  Oh  no,"  replied  Nicholas,  hurriedly.  "I — I — remember 
it  very  well  indeed." 

"  She  is  the  lady  I  speak  of,"  said  brother  Charles.  Like 
the  famous  parrot,  Nicholas  thought  a  great  deal,  but  was 
unable  to  utter  a  word. 

''She  is  the  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Cheeryble,  "of  a  lady 
who,  when  she  was  a  beautiful  girl  herself,  and  I  was  very 
many  years  younger,  I — it  seems  a  strange  word  for  me  to 
utter  now — I  loved  very  dearly.  You  will  smile,  perhaps,  to 
hear  a  gray-headed  man  talk  about  such  things.  You  will  not 
offend  me,  for  when  I  was  as  young  as  you,  I  dare  say  I 
should  have  done  the  same." 

"  I  have  no  such  inclination,  indeed,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  My  dear  brother  Ned,"  continued  Mr.  Cheeryble,  "was 
to  have  married  her  sister,  but  she  died.  She  is  dead  too  now, 
and  has  been  for  many  years.  She  married  her  choice,  and 
I  wish  I  could  add  that  her  after-life  was  as  happy,  as  God 
knows  I  ever  prayed  it  might  be  !  " 

A  short  silence  intervened,  which  Nicholas  made  no  effort 
to  break. 

"  If  trial  and  calamity  had  fallen  as  lightly  on  his  head,  as 
in  the  deepest  truth  of  my  own  heart  1  ever  hoped  (for  her 
sake)  it  would,  his  life  would  have  been  one  of  peace  and 
happiness,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  calmly.  "  It  will  be 
enough  to  say  that  this  was  not  the  case  ;  that  she  was  not 

38 


594 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


happy ;  that  they  fell  into  complicated  distresses  and  diffi- 
culties ;  that  she  came,  twelve  months  before  her  death,  to 
appeal  to  my  old  friendship ;  sadly  changed,  sadly  altered, 
broken-spirited  from  suffering  and  ill-usage,  and  almost  bro- 
ken-hearted. He  readily  availed  himself  of  the  money  which, 
to  give  her  but  one  hour's  peace  of  mind,  I  would  have  poured 
out  as  freely  as  water — nay,  he  often  sent  her  back  for  more 
— and  yet,  even  while  he  squandered  it,  he  made  the  very 
success  of  these,  her  applications  to  me,  the  groundwork  of 
cruel  taunts  and  jeers,  protesting  that  he  knew  she  thought 
with  bitter  remorse  of  the  choice  she  had  made,  that  she  had 
married  him  from  moti\'es  of  interest  and  vanity  (he  was  a 
gay  young  man  with  great  friends  about  him  when  she  chose 
him  for  her  husband),  and  venting  in  short  upon  her,  by  every 
unjust  and  unkind  means,  the  bitterness  of  that  ruin  and 
disappointment  which  had  been  brought  about  by  his  prof- 
ligacy alone.  In  those  times  this  young  lady  was  a  mere 
child.  I  never  saw  her  again  until  that  morning  when  you 
saw  her  also,  but  my  nephew,  Frank " 

?Jicholas  started,  and  indistinctly  apologizing  for  the  in- 
terruption, begged  his  patron  to  proceed. 

" My  nephew,  Frank,  I  say,"  resumed  Mr.  Cheer}'ble, 

"  encountered  her  by  accident,  and  lost  sight  of  her  almost 
in  a  minute  afterwards,  within  two  days  after  he  returned  to 
England.  Her  father  lay  in  some  secret  place  to  avoid  his 
creditors,  reduced,  between  sickness  and  povert}',  to  the  verge 
of  death,  and  she,  a  child, — we  might  almost  think,  if  we  did 
not  know  the  wisdom  of  all  Heaven's  decrees — who  should 
have  blessed  a  better  man,  was  steadily  braving  privation, 
degradation,  and  everything  most  terrible  to  such  a  young  and 
delicate  creature's  heart,  for  the  purpose  of  supporting  him. 
She  was  attended,  sir,"  said  brother  Charles,  '*  in  these  re- 
verses, by  one  faithful  creatui'e,  who  had  been,  in  old  times, 
a  poor  kitchen  wench  in  the  family,  who  was  then  their  soli- 
taiy  servant,  but  who  might  have  been  for  the  trutli  and 
fidelity  of  her  heart — who  might  have  been — ah  !  the  wife  of 
Tim  Linkinwater  himself,  sir  !  " 

Pursuing  this  encomium  upon  the  poor  follower  with  such 
energy  and  relish  as  no  words  can  describe,  brother  Charles 
leant  back  in  his  chair,  and  delivered  the  remainder  of  his 
relation  with  greater  composure. 

It  was  in  substance  this  :  That  proudlv  resisting  all  offers 
of  permanent  aid  and  support  from  her  late  mother's  friends, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


595 


because  they  were  made  conditional  upon  her  quitting  the 
wretched  man,  her  father,  who  had  no  friends  left,  and  shrink- 
ing with  instinctive  delicacy  from  appealing  in  their  behalf  to 
that  true  and  noble  heart  which  he  hated,  and  had,  through 
its  greatest  and  purest  goodness,  deeply  wronged  by  miscon- 
struction and  ill  report,  this  young  girl  had  struggled  alone 

^and  unassisted  to   maintain  him  by  the  labor  of  her  hands. 

\  That  through  the  utmost  depths  of  poverty  and  affliction  she 
Had  toiled,  never  turning  aside  for  an  instant  from  her  task, 
never  wearied  by  the  petulant  gloom  of  a  sick  man,  sustained 
by  no  consoling  recollections  of  the  past  or  hopes  of  the  future  ; 
never  repining  for  the  comforts  she  had  reiected,  or  bewailing 
the  hard  lot  she  had  voluntarily  incurredJ  That  every  little 
accomplishment  she  had  acquired  in  happier  days  had  been 
put  into  requisition  for  this  purpose,  and  directed  to  this  one 
end.  That  for  two  long  years,  toiling  by  day  and  often  too 
by  night,  working  at  the  needle,  the  pencil,  and  the  pen,  and 
submitting,  as  a  daily  governess,  to  such  caprices  and  indig- 
nities as  women  (with  daughters  too)  too  often  love  to  inflict 
upon  their  own  sex  when  they  serve  in  such  capacities,  as 
though  in  jealousy  of  the  superior  intelligence  which  they  are 
necessitated  to  employ, — indignities,  in  ninety-nine  cases  out 
of  every  hundred,  heaped  upon  persons  immeasurably  and 
incalculably  their  betters,  but  outweighing  in  comparison  any 
that  the  most  heartless  blackleg  would  put  upon  his  groom- 
that  for  two  long  years,  by  dint  of  laboring  in  all  these  capaci- 
ties and  wearyuig  in  none,  she  had  not  succeeded  in  the  sole 
aim  and  object  of  her  life,  but  that,  overwhelmed  by  accumu- 
lated difficulties  and  disappointments,  she  had  been  compelled 
to  seek  out  her  mother's  old  friend,  and,  with  a  bursting  heart, 
to  confide  in  him  at  last. 

"  If  I  had  been  poor,"  said  brother  Charles,  with  spark- 
ling eyes ;  "if  I  had  been  poor,  Mr.  Nickleby,  my  dear  sir, 
which  thank  God  I  am  not,  I  would  have  denied  myself  (of 
course  anybody  would  under  such  circumstances)  the  com 
monest  necessaries  of  life,  to  help  her.  As  it  is,  the  task  is  a 
difficult  one.  If  her  father  were  dead,  nothing  could  be  easier, 
for  then  she  should  share  and  cheer  the  happiest  home  thai 
brother  Ned  and  I  could  have,  as  if  she  were  our  child  or 
sister.  But  he  is  still  ali\-e.  Nobody  can  help  him  ;  that 
has  been  tried  a  thousand  times  \  he  was  not  abandoned  by 
all  without  good  cause,  I  know." 

"  Cannot  she  be   persuaded  to "     Nicholas  hesitated 

when  he  had  got  thus  far. 


596 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


"To  leave  him?"  said  brother  Charles.  "Who  could 
entreat  a  child  to  desert  her  parent  ?  Such  entreaties,  limited 
to  her  seeing  him  occasionally,  have  been  urged  upon  her — • 
not  by  me — but  always  with  the  same  result." 

."Is  he  kind  to  her?"  said  Nicholas.     "Does  he  requite 
her  affection  ?  " 

"  True  kindness,  considerate  self-denying  kindness,  is  not 
in  his  nature,"  returned  Mr.  Cheeryble.  "  Such  kindness  as 
he  knows,  he  regards  her  with,  I  believe.  The  mother  was  a 
gentle,  loving,  confiding  creature,  and  although  he  wounded 
her  from  their  marriage  until  her  death  as  cruelly  and  wantonly 
as  ever  man  did,  she  never  ceased  to  lo\  e  him.  She  com- 
mended him  on  her  death-bed  to  her  child's  care.  Her  child 
has  never  forgotten  it,  and  never  will." 

"  Have  you  no  influence  over  him  ?  "  asked  Nicholas. 

"  I,  my  dear  sir  ?  The  last  man  in  the  world.  Such  is 
his  jealousy  and  hatred  of  me,  that  if  he  knew  his  daughter 
had  opened  her  heart  to  me,  he  would  render  her  life  miser- 
able with  his  reproaches  ;  although — this  is  the  inconsistency 
and  selfishness  of  his  character — although  if  he  knew  that 
every  penny  she  had,  came  from  me,  he  would  not  relinquish 
one  personal  desire  that  the  most  reckless  expenditure  of  her 
scanty  stock  could  gratify." 

"  An  unnatural  scoundrel-!  "  said  Nicholas,  indignantly. 

"We  will  use  no  harsh  terms,"  said  brother  Charles,  in  a 
gentle  voice  ;  "  but  will  accommodate  ourselves  to  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  this  young  lady  is  placed.  Such  assist- 
ance as  I  have  prevailed  upon  her  to  accept,  I  have  been 
obliged,  at  her  own  earnest  request^ to  dole  out  in  the  smallest 
portions,  lest  he,  finding  how  easily  money  was  procured, 
should  squander  it  even  more  lightly  than  he  is  accustomed 
to  do.  She  has  come  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro,  secretly  and  by 
night,  to  take  even  this  ;  and  I  cannot  bear  that  things  should 
go  on  in  this  way,  Mr.  Nickleby,  I  really  cannot  bear  it." 

Then  it  came  out  by  little  and  little,  how  that  the  twins 
had  been  revolving  in  their  good  old  heads,  manifold  plans 
and  schemes  for  helping  this  young  lady  in  the  most  delicate 
and  considerate  way,  and  so  that  her  father  should  not  sus- 
pect the  source  whence  the  aid  was  derived  ;  and  how  they 
had  at  last  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  best  course 
would  be  to  make  a  feint  of  purchasing  her  little  drawings 
and  ornamental  work,  at  a  high  price,  and  keeping  up  a  con- 
stant demand  for  the  same.     For  the  furtherance   of  which 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  557 

end  and  object  it  was  necessary  that  somebody  should  rep- 
resent the  dealer  in  such  commodities,  and  after  great  de- 
liberation they  had  pitched  upon  Nicholas  to  support  this 
character. 

"  He  knows  me,"  said  brother  Charles,  "  and  he  knows 
my  brother  Ned.  Neither  of  us  would  do.  Frank  is  a  very 
good  fellow — a  very  fine  fellow — but  we  are  afraid  that  he 
might  be  a  little  flighty  and  thoughtless  in  such  a  delicate 
matter,  and  that  he  might,  perhaps — that  he  might,  in  short, 
be  too  susceptible  (for  she  is  a  beautiful  creature,  sir,  just  what 
her  poor  mother  was),  and,  falling  in  love  with  her  before  he 
well  knew  his  own  mind,  carry  pain  and  sorrow  into  that  inno- 
cent breast,  which  we  would  be  the  humble  instruments  of 
gradually  making  happy.  He  took  an  extraordinary  interest 
in  her  fortunes  when  he  first  happened  to  encounter  her.  And 
we  gather  from  the  inquiries  we  had  made  of  him,  that  it  was 
she  in  whose  behalf  he  made  that  turmoil  which  led  to  your 
first  acquaintance." 

Nicholas  stammered  out  that  he  had  before  suspected  the 
possibility  of  such  a  thing  ;  and  in  explanation  of  its  ha\-ing 
occurred  to  him,  he  described  when  and  where  he  had  seen 
the  young  lady  herself. 

"  Well  ;  then  you  see,"  continued  brother  Charles,  "  that 
//if  wouldn't  do.  Tim  Linkinwater  is  out  of  the  question;  for 
Tim,  sir,  is  such  a  tremendous  fellow,  that  he  could  never 
contain  himself,  but  would  go  to  loggerheads  with  the 
father  before  he  had  been  in  the  place  five  minutes.  You 
don't  know  what  Tim  is,  sir,  when  he  is  roused  by  anything 
that  appeals  to  his  feelings  very  strongly  ;  then  he  is  terrific, 
sir,  is  Tim  Linkinwater,  absolutely  terrific.  Now,  in  you  we 
can  repose  the  strictest  confidence  ;  in  you  we  have  seen — or 
at  least  /have  seen,  and  that's  the  same  thing,  for  there's  no 
difference  between  me  and  my  brother  Ned,  except  that  he  is 
the  finest  creature  that  ever  lived,  and  that  there  is  not  and 
ne\-er  will  be  anybody  like  him  in  all  the  world — in  you  we 
have  seen  domestic  virtues  and  affections,  and  delicacy  of 
feeling,  which  exactly  qualify,  you  for  such  an  office.  And 
you  are  the  man,  sir." 

"The  young  lady,  sir,"  said  Nicholas,  who  felt  so  embar- 
rassed that  he  had  no  small  difficulty  in  saying  anvthing  at  all 
— "Does — is — is  she  a  party  to  this  innocent  deceit  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  returned  Mr.  Cheeryble  ;  "  at  least  she  knows 
you  come  from  us ;  she  does  not  know,  howe\er,  but  that  we 


598 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


shall  dispose  of  these  little  productions  which  you'll  purchase 
from  time  to  time  ;  and,  perhaps,  if  3'OU  did  it  very  well  (that 
is,  very  well  indeed),  perhaps  she  might  be  brought  to  believe 
that  we — that  we  made  a  profit  of  them.     Eh  ?  Eh  ?  " 

In  this  guileless  and  most  kind  simplicity,  brother  Charles 
w-as  so  happy,  and  in  this  possibility  of  the  young  lady  being 
led  to  think  that  she  was  under  no  obligation  to  him,  he  evi- 
dently felt  so  sanguine  and  had  so  much  delight,  that  Nicho- 
las would  not  breathe  a  doubt  upon  the  subject. 

All  this  time,  however,  there  hovered  upon  the  tip  of  his 
tongue  a  confession  that  the  very  same  objections  which  Mr. 
Cheeryble  had  stated  to  the  employment  of  his  nephew  in  this 
commission  applied  with  at  least  equal  force  and  validity  to 
himself,  and  a  hundred  times  had  he  been  upon  the  point  of 
avowing  the  real  state  of  his  feelings,  and  entreating  to  be  re- 
leased from  it.  But  as  often,  treading  upon  the  heels  of  this 
impulse,  came  another  which  urged  him  to  refrain,  and  to 
keep  his  secret  to  his  own  breast.  "  Why  should  I,"  thought 
Nicholas,  "  why  should  I  throw  difficulties  in  the  way  of  this 
benevolent  and  hifjh-minded  design }  What  if  I  do  love  and 
reverence  this  good  and  lovely  creature.  Should  I  not  ap- 
pear a  most  arrogant  and  shallow  coxcomb  if  I  gravely  rep- 
resented that  there  was  any  danger  of  her  falling  in  love 
with  me  ?  Besides,  have  I  no  confidence  in  myself  ?  Am  I 
not  now  bound  in  honor  to  repress  these  thoughts .-'  Has  not 
this  excellent  man  a  right  to  my  best  and  heartiest  services, 
and  should  any  considerations  of  self  deter  me  from  render- 
ing them  ? " 

Asking  himself  such  questions  as  these,  Nicholas  mentally 
answered  with  great  emphasis  "  No  !  "  and  persuading  him- 
self that  he  was  a  most  conscientious  and  glorious  martyr, 
nobly  resolved  to  do  Avhat,  if  he  had  examined  his  own  heart 
a  little  more  carefully,  he  would  have  found  he  could  not  re- 
sist. Such  is  the  sleight  of  hand  by  which  we  juggle  with 
ourselves,  and  change  our  very  weaknesses  into  most  magnan- 
imous virtues  ! 

Mr.  Cheeryble,  being  of  course  wholly  unsuspicious  that 
such  reflections  were  presenting  themselves  to  his  young 
friend,  proceeded  to  give  him  the  needful  credentials  and  di- 
rections for  his  first  visit,  which  was  to  be  made  next  morn- 
ing;  all  preliminaries  being  arranged,  and  the  strictest  secrecy 
enjoined,  Nicholas  walked  home  for  the  night  very  thought- 
fully indeed. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


599 


The  place  to  which  Mr.  Cheen'ble  had  directed  him  was  a 
row  of  mean  and  not  over-cleanly  houses,  situated  within  "  the 
Rules  "  of  the  King's  Bench  Prison,  and  not  many  hundred 
paces  distant  from  the  obelisk  in  Saint  George's  Fields.  The 
Rules  are  a  certain  liberty  adjoining  the  prison,  and  compris- 
ing some  dozen  streets  in  which  debtors  who  can  raise  money 
to  pay  large  fees,  from  which  their  creditors  do  not  derive  any 
benefit,  are  permitted  to  reside  by  the  wise  provisions  of  the 
same  enliirhtened  laws  which  leave  the  debtor  who  can  raise 
no  money  to  starve  in  jail,  without  the  food,  clothing,  lodging 
or  warmth  which  are  provided  for  felons  convicted  of  the  most 
atrocious  crimes  that  can  disgrace  humanity.  There  are  many 
pleasant  fictions  of  the  law  in  constant  operation,  but  there  is 
not  one  so  pleasant  or  practically  humorous  as  that  which 
supposes  every  man  to  be  of  equal  value  in  its  impartial  eye, 
and  the  benefits  of  all  laws  to  be  equally  attainable  by  all 
men,  without  the  smallest  reference  to  the  furniture  of  their 
pockets. 

To  the  row  of  houses  indicated  to  him  by  Mr.  Charles 
Cheeryble,  Nicholas  directed  his  steps,  without  much  troub- 
ling his  head  with  such  matters  as  these  ;  and  at  this  row  of 
houses — after  traversing  a  very  dirty  and  dusty  suburb,  of 
which  minor  theatricals,  shell-fish,  ginger-beer,  spring  vans, 
green-grocer)',  and  brokers'  shops,  appeared  to  compose  the 
main  and  most  prominent  features — he  at  length  arrived  with 
a  palpitating  heart.  There  were  small  gardens  in  front  which, 
being  wholly  neglected  in  all  other  respects,  served  as  little 
pens  for  the  dust  to  collect  in,  until  the  wind  came  round  the 
corner  and  blew  it  down  the  road.  Opening  the  rickety  gate 
which,  dangling  on  its  broken  hinges  before  one  of  these,  half 
admitted  and  half  repulsed  the  visitor,  Nicholas  knocked  at 
the  street  door  with  a  faltering  hand. 

It  was  in  truth  a  shabby  house  outside,  with  very  dim  par- 
lor windows  and  very  small  show  of  blinds,  and  very  dirty 
muslin  curtains  dangling  across  the  lower  panes  on  very  loose 
and  limp  strings.  Neither,  when  the  door  was  opened,  did 
the  inside  appear  to  belie  the  outward  promise,  as  there  was 
faded  carpeting  on  the  stairs  and  faded  oil-cloth  in  the  pas- 
sage ;  in  addition  to  which  discomforts  a  gentleman  Ruler 
was  smoking  hard  in  the  front  parlor  (though  it  was  not  yet 
noon),  while  the  lady  of  the  house  was  busily  engaged  in  tur- 
pentining the  disjointed  fragments  of  a  tent-bedstead  at  the 
door  of  the  back  parlor,  as  if  in  preparation  for  the  reception 


6oo  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

of  some  new  lodger  who  had  been  fortunate  enough  to  en«. 
gage  it. 

Nicholas  had  ample  time  to  make  these  observations  while 
the  little  boy,  who  went  on  errands  for  the  lodgers,  clattered 
down  the  kitchen  stairs  and  was  heard  to  scream,  as  in  some 
remote  cellar,  for  Miss  Bray's  servant.  Who,  presently  ap- 
pearing and  requesting  him  to  follow  her,  caused  him  to 
evince  greater  symptoms  of  nervousness  and  disorder  than  so 
natural  a  consequence  of  his  ha\ing  inquired  for  that  young 
lady  would  seem  calculated  to  occasion. 

Up  stairs  he  went,  however,  and  into  a  front  room  he.  was 
shown,  and  there,  seated  at  a  little  table  by  the  window,  on 
which  were  drawing  materials  with  which  she  was  occupied, 
sat  the  beautiful  girl  who  had  so  engrossed  his  thoughts,  and 
who,  surrounded  by  all  the  new  and  strong  interest  which 
Nicholas  attached  to  her  story,  seemed  now,  in  his  eyes,  a 
thousand  times  more  beautiful  than  he  had  ever  yet  supposed 
her. 

But  how  the  graces  and  elegances  which  she  had  dis- 
persed  about  the  poorly-furnished  room,  went  to  the  heart  of 
Nicholas  !  Flowers,  plants,  birds,  the  harp,  the  old  piano 
whose  notes  had  sounded  so  much  sweeter  in  by-gone  times  ; 
how  many  struggles  had  it  cost  her  to  keep  these  two  last  links 
of  that  broken  chain  which  bound  her  yet  to  home  !  With  every 
slender  ornament,  the  occupation  of  her  leisure  hours,  replete 
with  that  graceful  charm  which  lingers  in  every  little  tasteful 
work  of  woman's  hands,  how  much  patient  endurance  and  how 
many  gentle  affections  were  entwined  !  He  felt  as  though  the 
smile  of  Heaven  were  on  the  little  chamber  ;  as  though  the 
beautiful  devotion  of  so  young  and  weak  a  creature,  had  shed 
a  ray  of  its  own  on  the  inanimate  things  around,  and  made  them 
beautiful  as  itself  ;  as  though  the  halo  with  which  old  painters 
surround  the  bright  angels  of  a  sinless  world,  played  about  a 
being  akin  in  spirit  to  them,  and  its  light  were  visibly  before 
him. 

And  yet  Nicholas  was  in  the  Rules  of  the  King's  Bench 
Prison  !  If  he  had  been  in  Italy  indeed,  and  the  time  had 
been  sunset,  and  the  scene  a  stately  terrace  !  But,  there  is 
one  broad  sky  over  all  the  world,  and,  whether  it  be  blue  or 
cloudy,  the  same  Heaven  beyond  it;  so,  perhaps,  he  had  no 
need  of  compunction  for  thinking  as  he  did. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  took  in  everything  at  one 
glance,  for  he  had  as  yet  been  unconscious  of  the  presence  of 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  60 1 

a  sick  man  propped  up  with  pillows  in  an  easy  chair,  who 
moving  restlessly  and  impatiently  in  his  seat,  attracted  his  at- 
tention. 

He  was  scarce  fifty,  perhaps,  but  so  emaciated  as  to  appear 
much  older.  His  features  presented  the  remains  of  a  hand- 
some countenance,  but  one  in  which  the  embers  of  strong  and 
impetuous  passions  were  easier  to  be  traced  than  any  expres- 
sion which  would  have  rendered  a  far  plainer  face  much  more 
prepossessing.  His  looks  were  very  haggard,  and  his  limbs  and 
body  literally  worn  to  the  bone,  but  there  was  something  of  the 
old  fire  in  the  large  sunken  eye  notwithstanding,  and  it  seemed 
to  kindle  afresh  as  he  struck  a  thick  stick,  with  which  he 
seemed  to  have  supported  himself  in  his  seat,  impatiently  on 
the  floor  twice  or  thrice,  and  called  his  daughter  by  her  name. 

"  Madeline,  who  is  this  ?  What  does  anybody  want  here  ? 
Who  told  a  stranger  we  could  be  seen  ?     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  believe— — -"  the  young  lady  began,  as  she  inclined 
her  head  with  an  air  of  some  confusion,  in  reply  to  the  salu- 
tation of  Nicholas. 

"  You  always  believe,"  returned  her  father,  petulantly. 
"  What  is  it .?  " 

By  this  time  Nicholas  had  recovered  sufficient  presence  of 
mind  to  speak  for  himself,  so  he  said  (as  it  had  been  agreed 
he  should  say)  that  he  had  called  about  a  pair  of  hand-screens, 
and  some  painted  velvet  for  an  ottoman,  both  of  which  were 
required  to  be  of  the  most  elegant  design  possible,  neither 
time  nor  expense  being  of  the  smallest  consideration.  He 
had  also  to  pay  for  the  two  drawings,  with  many  thanks,  and, 
advancing  to  the  little  table,  he  laid  upon  it  a  bank  note, 
folded  in  an  envelope  and  sealed. 

"  See  that  the  money  is  right,  Madeline,"  said  the  father. 
"Open  the  paper  my  dear." 

"  It's  quite  right,  papa,  I'm  sure." 

"  Here  !  "  said  Mr.  Bray,  putting  out  his  hand,  and  opening 
and  shutting  his  bony  fingers  with  irritable  impatience.  "  Let 
me  see.  What  are  you  talking  about,  Madeline  ?  You're  sure  .>* 
How  can  you  be  sure  of  any  such  thing  ?  Five  pounds — well, 
is  that  right  ?  " 

"  Quite,"  said  Madeline,  bending  over  him.  She  was  so 
busily  employed  in  arranging  the  pillows  that  Nicholas  could 
not  see  her  face,  but  as  she  stooped  he  thought  he  saw  a  tear 
fall. 

"  Ring  the  bell,  ring  the  bell,"  said  the  sick  man,  with  the 


6o2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

same  nervous  eagerness,  and  motioning  towards  it  with  such 
a  quivering  hand  that  the  bank  note  rustled  in  the  air. 
"  Tell  her  to  get  it  changed,  to  get  a  newspaper,  to  buy  me 
some  grapes,  another  bottle  of  the  wine  that  I  had  last  week' — ■ 
and — and — I  forget  half  I  want  just  now,  but  she  can  go  out 
again.  Let  her  get  those  first,  those  first.  Now,  Madeline, 
my  love,  quick,  quick  !  Good  God,  how  slow  you  are  !  " 
. "  He  remembers  nothing  that  she  wants  !  "  thought  Nich- 
olas. Perhaps  something  of  what  he  thought  was  expressed 
in  his  countenance,  for  the  sick  man  turning  towards  him 
with  great  asperity,  demanded  to  know  if  he  waited  for  a  re- 
ceipt ? 

"  It  is  no  matter  at  all,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  No  matter  !  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  was  the  tart  re- 
joinder. "  No  matter  !  Do  you  think  you  bring  your  paltry 
money  here  as  a  favor  or  a  gift ;  or  as  a  matter  of  business,  and 
in  return  for  value  received  ?  D — n  you,  sir,  because  you  can't 
appreciate  the  time  and  taste  which  are  bestowed  upon  the 
goods  you  deal  in,  do  you  think  you  give  your  money  away  ? 
Do  you  know  that  you  are  talking  to  a  gentleman,  sir,  who  at 
one  time  could  have  bought  up  fifty  such  men  as  you  and  all 
you  have  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  merely  mean  that,  as  I  shall  have  many  dealings  with 
this  lady,  if  she  will  kindly  allow  me,  I  will  not  trouble  her 
with  such  forms,"  said  Nicholas. 

"Then  /mean,  if  you  please,  that  we'll  have  as  many 
forms  as  we  can,"  returned  the  father.  "My  daughter,  sir, 
requires  no  kindness  from  you  or  anybody  else.  Have  the 
goodness  to  confine  your  dealings  strictly  to  trade  and  business, 
and  not  to  travel  beyond  it.  Every  petty  tradesman  is  to  be- 
gin to  pity  her  now,  is  he  ?  Upon  my  soul !  Very  pretty, 
Madeline,  my  dear,  give  him  a  receipt ;  and  mind  you  always 
do  so." 

While  she  was  feigning  to  write  it,  and  Nicholas  was  rumi- 
nating upon  the  extraordinary  but  by  no  means  uncommon 
character  thus  presented  to  his  observation,  the  invalid,  who 
appeared  at  times  to  suffer  great  bodily  pain,  sank  back  in  his 
chair  and  moaned  out  a  feeble  complaint  that  the  girl  had 
been  gone  an  hour,  and  that  everybody  conspired  to  goad  him. 

"  When,"  said  Nicholas,  as  he  took  the  piece  of  paper, 
"  when  shall  I  call  again  ?  " 

This  was  addressed  to  the  daughter,  but  the  father  an- 
swered immediately. 


"NO  matter!    do  you  bring  your  paltry  money  here  as  a  favor 

N.N, 


OR  A   GIFT  ?  "— /*a^,?  602. 


^ 


./ 


\ 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


603 


"  When  you're  requested  to  call,  sir,  and  not  before. 
Don't  worry  and  persecute.  Madeline,  my  dear,  when  is  this 
person  to  call  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  for  a  long  time,  not  for  three  or  four  weeks  ;  it  is 
not  necessary,  indeed  ;  lean  do  without,"  said  the  young  lady, 
with  great  eagerness. 

"  Why,  how  are  we  to  do  without  ?  "  urged  her  father  not 
speaking  above  his  breath.  "  Three  or  four  weeks,  Madeline  ! 
Three  or  four  weeks  !  " 

"Then  sooner,  sooner,  if  you  please,"  said  the  young  lady, 
turning  to  Nicholas. 

"  Three  or  four  weeks  !  "  muttered  the  father.  "  Madeline 
what  on  earth — do  nothing  for  three  or  four  weeks  !  " 

"  It  is  a  long  time,  ma'am,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  You  thnik  so,  do  you  t  "  retorted  the  father,  angrily.  "  If 
I  chose  to  beg,  sir,  and  stoop  to  ask  assistance  from  people  I 
despise,  three  or  four  months  would  not  be  a  long  time  ;  three 
or  four  years  would  not  be  a  long  time.  Understand  sir,  that 
is  if  I  chose  to  be  dependent  ;  but  as  I  don't,  you  may  call  in 
a  week." 

Nicholas  bowed  low  to  the  young  lady  and  retired,  pon- 
dering upon  Mr.  Bray's  ideas  of  independence,  and  devoutly 
hoping  that  there  might  be  few  such  independent  spirits  as  he 
mingling  with  the  baser  clay  of  humanity. 

He  heard  a  light  footstep  above  him  as  he  descended  the 
stairs.  Looking  round,  he  saw  that  the  young  lady  was  stand- 
ing there,  and,  glancing  timidly  towards  him,  seemed  to  hesi- 
tate whether  she  should  call  him  back  or  no.  The  best  way 
of  settling  the  question  was  to  turn  back  at  once,  which  Nich- 
olas did. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  do  right  in  asking  you,  sir,"  said 
Madeline,  hurriedly,  "  but  pray,  pray,  do  not  mention  to  my 
poor  mother's  dear  friends  what  has  passed  here  to-day.  He 
has  suffered  much,  and  is  worse  this  morning.  I  beg  you,  sir, 
as  a  boon,  a  favor  to  myself." 

"  You  have  but  to  hint  a  wish,"  returned  Nicholas,  fer- 
vently, "and  I  would  hazard  my  life  to  gratify  it." 

"  You  speak  hastily,  sir." 

"Truly  and  sincerely,"  rejoined  Nicholas,  his  lips  trem- 
bling as  he  formed  the  words,  "  if  ever  man  spoke  truly  yet. 
I  am  not  skilled  in  disguising  my  feelings,  and,  if  I  were,  I 
could  not  hide  my  heart  from  you.  Dear  madam,  as  I  know 
your  history,  and  feel  as  men  and  angels  must  who  hear  and 


6o4  NICHOLAS  NTCKLEB  V. 

see  such  things,  I  do  entreat  you  to  believe  that  I  would  die 
to  serve  you." 

The  young  lady  turned  away  her  head,  and  was  j^lainly 
weeping. 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Nicholas,  with  respectful  earnestness, 
"  if  I  seem  to  say  too  much  or  to  presume  upon  the  confidence 
which  has  been  entrusted  to  me.  But  I  could  not  leave  you  as 
if  my  interest  and  sympathy  expired  with  the  commission  of  the 
day.  I  am  your  faithful  servant,  humbly  devoted  to  you  from 
this  hour,  devoted  in  strict  truth  and  honor  to  him  who  sent 
me  here,  and  in  pure  integrity  of  heart,  and  distant  respect 
for  you.  If  I  meant  more  or  less  than  this,  I  should  be  un- 
worthy his  regard,  and  false  to  the  nature  that  prompts  the 
honest  words  I  utter." 

She  waved  her  hand,  entreating  him  to  be  gone,  but  an- 
swered not  a  word.  Nicholas  could  say  no  more,  and  silently 
withdrew.  And  thus  ended  his  first  interview  with  Madeline 
Bray. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 


MR.  RALPH  NICKLEBY  HAS  SOME  CONFIDENTIAL  INTERCOURSE 
WITH  ANOTHER  OLD  FRIEND.  THEY  CONCERT  BETWEEN 
THEM    A    PROJECT,    WHICH    PROMISES    WELL    FOR    BOTH, 

"  There  go  the  three  quarters  past  1  "  muttered  Newman 
Noggs,  listening  to  the  chimes  of  some  neighboring  church, 
"  and  my  dinner  time's  two.  He  does  it  on  purpose.  He 
makes  a  point  of  it.     It's  just  like  him." 

It  was  in  his  own  little  den  of  an  office  and  on  the  top 
of  his  official  stool  that  Newman  thus  soliloquized  ;  and  the 
soliloquy  referred,  as  Newman's  grumbling  soliloquies  usually 
did,  to  Ralpli  Nickleby. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  ever  had  an  appetite,"  said  Newman, 
"except  for  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  and  with  them  he's 
as  greedy  as  a  wolf.  I  should  like  to  have  him  compelled  to 
swallow  one  of  every  English  coin.  The  penny  would  be  an 
awkward  morsel — but  the  crown — ha  !  ha  !  " 

His  good  humor  being  in  some  degree  restored  by  the  vis- 
ion of  Ralph   Nickleby  swallowing,  perforce,  a  five-shilling 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  605 

piece.  Newman  slowly  brought  forth  from  his  desk  one  of  those 
portable  bottles,  currently  known  as  pocket-pistols,  and  shak- 
ing the  same  close  to  his  ear  so  as  to  produce  a  rippling  sound 
very  cool  and  pleasant  to  listen  to,  suffered  his  features  to 
relax,  and  took  a  gurgling  drink,  which  relaxed  them  still 
more.  Replacing  the  cork  he  smacked  his  lips  twice  or 
thrice  with  an* air  of  great  relish,  and,  the  taste  of  the  liquor 
having  by  this  time  evaporated,  recurred  to  his  grievances 
again. 

"  Five  minutes  to  three,"  growled  Newman,  "it  can't  want 
more  by  this  time  ;  and  I  had  my  breakfast  at  eight  o'clock, 
and  such  a  breakfast !  and  my  right  dinner  time  is  two  !  And  I 
might  have  a  nice  little  bit  of  hot  roast  meat  spoiling  at  home 
all  this  time — how  does  he  know  I  haven't  !  !  '  Don't  go  till  I 
come  back,'  '  Don't  go  till  I  come  back,'  day  after  day.  What 
do  you  always  go  out  at  my  dinner  time  for  then — eh  ?  Don't 
you  know  it's  nothing  but  aggravation — eh  ?  " 

These  words,  though  uttered  in  a  very  loud  key,  were  ad- 
dressed to  nothing  but  empty  air.  The  recital  of  his  wrongs, 
however,  seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  making  Newman  Noggs 
desperate  ;  for  he  flattened  his  old  hat  upon  his  head,  and 
drawing  on  the  everlasting  gloves,  declared  with  great  vehe- 
mence, that  come  what  might,  he  would  go  to  dinner  that  very 
minute. 

Carrying  this  resolution  into  instant  effect,  he  had  ad- 
vanced as  far  as  the  passage,  when  the  sound  of  the  latch-key 
in  the  street  door  caused  him  to  make  a  precipitate  retreat  into 
his  own  office  agam. 

"  Here  he  is,"  growled  Newman,  "  and  somebody  with  him. 
Now  it'll  be  '  Stop  till  this  gentleman's  gone.'  But  I  won't. 
That's  flat." 

So  saying,  Newman  slipped  into  a  tall  empty  closet  which 
opened  with  two  half  doors,  and  shut  himself  up  ;  intending 
to  slip  out  directly  Ralph  was  safe  inside  his  own  room. 

"  Noggs  !  "  cried  Ralph.     "  Where  is  that  fellow  Noggs  ?  " 

But  not  a  word  said  Newman. 

"  The  dog  has  gone  to  his  dinner,  though  I  told  him  not," 
muttered  Ralph,  looking  into  the  office  and  pulling  out  his 
watch.  "Humph!  You  had  better  come  in  here.  Gride.  My 
man's  out,  and  the  sun  is  hot  upon  my  room.  This  is  cool 
and  in  the  shade,  if  you  don't  mind  roughing  it." 

"  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Nickleby,  oh  not  at  all  All  places  are 
alike  to  me,  sir.     Ah  !  ver)'  nice  indeed.     Oh  !  very  nice  !  " 


5o6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

The  person  who  made  this  reply  was  a  little  old  man,  of 
about  seventy  or  seventy-five  years  of  age,  of  a  very  lean  figure, 
much  bent,  and  slightly  twisted.  He  wore  a  gray  coat  with 
a  very  narrow  collar,  an  old-fashioned  waistcoat  of  ribbed 
black  silk,  and  such  scanty  trousers  as  displayed  his  shrunken 
spindle-shanks  in  their  full  ugliness.  The  only  articles  of 
display  or  ornament  in  his  dress,  were  a  steel  watch-chain  to 
which  were  attached  some  large  gold  seals  :  and  a  black  ribbon 
into  which,  in  compliance  with  an  old  fashion  scarcely  ever 
observed  in  these  days,  his  gray  hair  was  gathered  behind. 
His  nose  and  chin  were  sharp  and  prominent,  his  jaws  had 
fallen  inwards  from  loss  of  teeth,  his  face  was  shrivelled  and 
yellow,  save  where  the  cheeks  were  streaked  with  the  color  of 
a  dry  winter  apple  ;  and  where  his  beard  had  been,  there  lin- 
gered yet  a  few  gray  tufts  which  seemed,  like  the  ragged  eye- 
brows, to  denote  the  badness  of  the  soil  from  which  they 
sprung.  The  whole  air  and  attitude  of  the  fonn,  was  one  of 
stealthy  cat-like  obsequiousness  ;  the  whole  expression  of  the 
fac^^as  concentrated  in  a  wrinkled  leer,  compounded  of^un- 
ning,  lecherousness,  slynessT^afTd  avaricer' 
'"""""Such  was  old  Arthur  Gride,  in  whose  face  there  was  not  a 
wrinkle,  in  whose  dress  there  was  not  one  spare  fold  or  plait, 
but  expressed  the  most  covetous  and  griping  penury,  and 
sufficiently  indicated  his  belonging  to  that  class  of  which  Ralph 
Nickleby  was  a  member.  Such  was  old  Arthur  Gride,  as  he 
sat  in  a  low  chair  looking  up  into  the  face  of  Ralph  Nickleby, 
who,  lounging  on  the  tall  office  stool,  with  his  arms  upon  his 
knees,  looked  down  into  his  ;  a  match  for  him,  on  whatever 
errand  he  had  come. 

"  And  how  have  you  been  ?  "  said  Gride,  feigning  great  in- 
terest in  Ralph's  state  of  health.  "  I  haven't  seen  you  for — 
oh  !  not  for — " 

"  Not  for  a  long  time,"  said  Ralph,  with  a  peculiar  smile, 
importing  that  he  very  well  knew  it  was  not  on  a  mere  visit  of 
compliment  that  his  friend  had  come.  "  It  was  a  narrow 
chance  that  you  saw  me  now,  for  1  had  only  just  come  up  to 
the  door  as  you  txirned  the  corner." 

"  I  am  very  lucky,"  observed  Gride. 

*'  So  men  say,"  replied  Ralph,  dryly. 

The  older  money-lender  wagged  his  chin  and  smiled,  but 
he  originated  no  new  remark,  and  they  sat  for  some  little  lime 
without  speaking.  Each  was  looking  out  to  take  the  other  at 
a  disadvantage. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  607 

"Come,  Gride,"  said  Ralph  at  length;  "what's  in  the 
wind  to-day  ?  " 

"Aha!  you're  a  bold  man,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  cried  the  other, 
apparently  very  much  relieved  by  Ralph's  leading  the  way  to 
business.     "  Oh  dear,  dear,  what  a  bold  man  you  are  !  " 

"  Why  you  have  a  sleek  and  slinking  way  with  you  that 
makes  me  seem  so  by  contrast,"  returned  Ralph.  "  I  don't 
know  but  that  yours  may  answer  better,  but  1  want  the  pa- 
tience for  it." 

"  You  were  born  a  genius,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  old  Arthur. 
"  Deep,  deep,  deep.     Ah  !  " 

"  Deep  enough,"  retorted  Ralph,  "  to  know  that  I  shall 
need  all  the  depth  I  have,  when  men  like  you  begin  to  com- 
pliment. You  know  I  have  stood  by  when  you  fawned  and 
flattered  other  people,  and  I  remember  pretty  well  what  fkai 
always  led  to." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  rejoined  Arthur,  rubbing  his  hands.  "  So 
you  do,  so  you  do,  no  doubt.  Not  a  man  knows  it  better. 
Well,  it's  a  pleasant  thing  now  to  think  that  you  remember 
old  times.     Oh  dear  !  " 

"  Now  then,"  said  Ralph,  composedly  :  "  what's  in  the 
wind,  I  ask  again.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  See  that  now  !  "  cried  the  other.  "  He  can't  even  keep 
from  business  -^hile  we're  chatting  over  by-gones.  Oh,  dear, 
dear,  what  a  man  it  is  !  " 

"  Which  of  the  by-gones  do  you  want  to  revive  ?  "  said 
Ralph.  "  One  of  them  I  know,  or  you  wouldn't  talk  about 
them." 

"  He  suspects  even  me  !  "  cried  old  Arthur,  holding  up 
his  hands.  "  Even  me  !  Oh  dear,  even  me.  What  a  man  it 
is  !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  What  a  man  it  is  !  Mr.  Nickleby  against 
all  the  world.  There's  nobody  like  him.  A  giant  among  pig- 
mies, a  giant,  a  giant  !  " 

Ralph  looked  at  the  old  dog  with  a  quiet  smile  as  he 
chuckled  on  in  this  strain,  and  Newman  Noggs  in  the  closet 
felt  his  heart  sink  within  him  as  the  prospect  of  dinner  grew 
fainter  and  fainter. 

"I  must  humor  him  though,"  cried  old  Arthur;  "he 
must  have  his  way — a  wilful  man,  as  the  Scotch  say — well, 
well,  they're  a  wise  people,  the  Scotch.  He  will  talk  about 
business,  and  won't  give  away  his  time  for  nothing.  He's 
very  right.  Time  is  inone\',  lime  is  mnnc\'.'' 
—■  ^  He  was  one  of  us  who  made  that  saying,  I  should  think," 


6o8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

said  Ralph.  "  Time  is  money,  and  very  good  money  too,  to 
those  who  reckon  interest  by  it.  Time  is  money  !  Yes,  and 
lime  costs  money ;  it's  rather  an  expensive  article  to  some 
people  we  could  name,  or  I  forget  my  trade." 

In  rejoinder  to  this  sally,  old  Arthur  again  raised  his 
hands,  again  chuckled,  and  again  ejaculated.  "  What  a  man 
it  is  !  "  which  done,  he  dragged  the  low  chair  a  little  nearer 
to  Ralph's  high  stool,  and  looking  upwards  into  his  immova- 
ble face,  said, 

"  What  would  you  say  to  me,  if  I  was  to  tell  you  that  I 
was — that  I  was — going  to  be  married  1  " 

"I  should  tell  you,"  replied  Ralph,  looking  coldly  down 
upon  him,  "  that  for  some  purpose  of  your  own  you  told  a  lie, 
and  that  it  wasn't  the  first  time  and  wouldn't  be  the  last ; 
that  I  wasn't  surprised,  and  wasn't  to  be  taken  in." 

"  Then  I  tell  you  seriously  that  I  am,"  said  old  Arthur. 

"  And  /tell  you  seriously,"  rejoined  Ralph,  "what  I  told 
you  this  minute.  Stay.  Let  me  look  at  you.  There's  a 
liquorish  devilry  in  your  face.     What  is  this  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  deceive  you,  you  know,"  whined  Arthur 
Gride  ;  "  I  couldn't  do  it,  I  should  be  mad  to  tr}'.  I,  I,  to 
deceive  Mr.  Nickleby!  The  pigmy  to  impose  upon  the  giant. 
I  ask  again — he,  he,  he  ! — what  should  you  say  to  me  if  I  was 
to  tell  you  that  I  was  going  to  be  married  1 " 

"To  some  old  hag  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"No,  no,"  cried  Arthur,  interrupting  him,  and  rubbing  his 
hafids  in  an  ecstasy.  "  Wrong,  wrong  again.  Mr.  Nickleby 
for  once  at  fault :  out,  quite  out !  To  a  young  and  beautiful 
girl  ;  fresh,  lovely,  bewitching,  and  not  nineteen.  Dark  eyes, 
long  eyelashes,  ripe  and  ruddy  lips  that  to  look  at  is  to  long 
to  kiss,  beautiful  clustering  hair  that  one's  fingers  itch  to  play 
with,  such  a  waist  as  might  make  a  man  clasp  the  air  involun- 
tarily thinking  of  twining  his  arm  about  it,  little  feet  that  tread 
so  lightly  they  hardly  seem  to  walk  upon  the  ground — to  marry 
all  this,  sir,  this — hey,  hey  !  " 

"  This  is  something  more  than  common  drivelling,"  said 
Ralph,  after  listening  with  a  curled  lip  to  the  old  sinner's 
raptures.     "  The  girl's  name  ?  " 

"  Oh  deep,  deep  !  See  now  how  deep  that  is  !  "  exclaimed 
old  Arthur.  "  He  knows  I  want  his  help,  he  knows  he  can 
give  it  me,  he  knows  it  must  all  turn  to  his  advantage,  he 
sees  the  thing  already.  Her  name — is  there  nobody  within 
hearing  .''  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  609 

"  Why,  who  the  devil  should  there  be  ?  "  retorted  Ralph, 
testily. 

"  1  didn't  know  but  that  perhaps  somebody  might  be 
passing  up  or  down  the  stairs,"  said  Arthur  Gride,  after  look- 
ing out  at  the  door  and  carefully  reclosing  it ;  "  or  but  that 
your  man  might  have  come  back  and  might  have  been  listen- 
ing outside.  Clerks  and  servants  have  a  trick  of  listening, 
and  I  should  have  been  very  uncomfortable  if  Mr.  Noggs — " 

"  Curse  Mr.  Noggs,"  said  Ralph,  sharply,  "  and  go  on 
with  what  you  have  to  say." 

"  Curse  Mr.  Noggs,  by  all  means,"  rejoined  old  Arthur ; 
"  I  am  sure  I  have  not  the  least  objection  to  that.  Her  name 
l^==M "— —'■■•'•- 

j         "  Well,"  said  Ralph,  rendered  very  irritable  by  old  Arthuj^ 
[pausing  again.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 
^^. "  Madeline  Bray." 

Whatever  reasons  there  might  have  been — and  Arthur 
Gride  appeared  to  have  anticipated  some — for  the  mention  of 
this  name  producing  an  effect  upon  Ralph,  or  whatever  effect 
it  really  did  produce  upon  him,  he  permitted  none  to  manifest 
itself,  but  calmly  repeated  the  name  several  times,  as  if  re- 
flecting when  and  where  he  had  heard  it  before. 

"  Bray,"  said  Ralph.  "  Bra}' — there  was  young  Bray  of 
,  no,  he  never  had  a  daughter." 

"  You  remember  "Bray.''  "  rejoined  Arthur  Gride. 

"  No,"  said  Ralph,  looking  vacantly  at  him. 

"  Not  Walter  Bray !  The  dashing  man,  who  used  his 
handsome  wife  so  ill  ?  " 

"  If  you  seek  to  recall  any  particular  dashing  man  to  my 
recollection  by  such  a  trait  as  that,"  said  Ralph,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  "  I  shall  confound  him  with  nine-tenths  of  the 
dashing  men  I  have  ever  known." 

"  Tut,  tut.  That  Bray  who  is  now  in  the  Rules  of  the 
Bench,"  said  old  Arthur.  "  You  can't  have  forgotten  Bray. 
Both  of  us  did  business  with  him.  Why,  he  owes  you 
money  !  " 

"Oh  ///w/"  rejoined  Ralph.  "Ay,  ay.  Now  you  speak. 
Oh  !     It's  ///s  daughter,  is  it  ?  " 

Naturally  as  this  was  said,  it  was  not  said  so  naturally  but 
that  a  kindred  spirit  like  old  Arthur  Gride  might  have  dis- 
cerned a  design  on  the  part  of  Ralph  to  lead  him  on  to  much 
more  explicit  statements  and  explanations  than  he  would 
have' volunteered,  or  than  Ralph  could  in  all  likelihood  have 

39 


6io  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

obtained  by  any  other  means.  Old  Arthur,  however,  was  so 
intent  upon  his  own  designs,  that  he  suffered  himself  to  be 
over-reached,  and  had  no  suspicion  but  that  his  good  friend 
was  in  earnest. 

"  I  knew  you  couldn't  forget  him,  when  you  came  to  think 
for  a  moment,"  he  said. 

"  You  were  right,"  answered  Ralph.  "  But  old  Arthur 
Gride  and  matrimony  is  a  most  anomalous  conjunction  of 
words  ;  old  Arthur  Gride  and  dark  eyes  and  eyelashes,  and 
lips  that  to  look  at  is  to  long  to  kiss,  and  clustering  hair  that 
he  wants  to  play  with,  and  waists  that  he  wants  to  span,  and 
little  feet  that  don't  tread  upon  anything— old  Arthur  Gride 
and  such  things  as  these,  is  more  monstrous  still ;  but  old 
Arthur  Gride  marrying  the  daughter  of  a  ruined  '  dashing 
man  '  in  the  Rules  of  the  Bench,  is  the  most  monstrous  and 
incredible  of  all.  Plainly,  friend  Arthur  Gride,  if  you  want 
any  help  from  me  in  this  business  (which  of  course  you  do, 
or  you  would  not  be  here),  speak  out,  and  to  the  purpose. 
And,  above  all,  don't  talk  to  me  of  its  turning  to  my  advan- 
tage, for  I  know  it  must  turn  to  yours  also,  and  to  a  good 
round  tune  too,  or  you  would  have  no  finger  in  such  a  pie  as 
this." 

There  was  enough  acer^'ity  and  sarcasm  not  only  in  the 
matter  of  Ralph's  speech,  but  in  the  tone  of  voice  in  which 
he  uttered  it,  and  the  looks  with  which  he  eked  it  out,  to 
have  fired  even  the  ancient  usurer's  cold  blood  and  flushed 
even  his  withered  cheek.  But  he  gave  vent  to  no  demonstra- 
tion of  anger,  contenting  himself  with  exclaiming  as  before, 
"  What  a  man  it  is  !  "  and  rolling  himself  from  side  to  side, 
as  if  in  unrestrained  enjoyment  of  his  freedom  and  drollery. 
Clearly  observing,  however,  from  the  expression  on  Ralph's 
features,  that  he  had  best  come  to  the  point  as  speedily  as 
might  be,  he  composed  himself  for  more  serious  business, 
and  entered  upon  the  pith  and  marrow  of  his  negotiation. 

First,  he  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  Madeline  Bray  was 
devoted  to  the  support  and  maintenance,  and  was  a  slave  to 
every  wish,  of  her  only  parent,  who  had  no  other  friend  on 
earth  ;  to  which  Ralph  rejoined  that  he  had  heard  something 
of  the  kind  before,  and  that  if  she  had  known  a  little  more  of 
the  world,  she  wouldn't  have  been  such  a  fool. 

Secondly,  he  enlarged  upon  the  character  of  her  father, 
arguing,  that  even  taking  it  for  granted  that  he  loved  her  in 
return  with  the  utmost  affection  of  which  he  was  capable,  yet 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  6 1 X 

he  loved  himself  a  great  deal  better  ;  which  Ralph  said  it  was 
quite  unnecessar}'  to  say  anything  more  about,  as  that  was  very 
natural,  and  probable  enough. 

And,  thirdly,  old  Arthur  premised  that  the  girl  was  a 
delicate  and  beautiful  creature,  and  that  he  had  really  a 
hankering  to  have  her  for  his  wife.  To  this  Ralph  deigned 
no  other  rejoinder  than  a  harsh  smile,  and  a  glance  at  the 
shri\-elled  old  creature  before  him  :  which  were,  however,  suf- 
ficiently expressive. 

"  Now,"  said  Gride,  "  for  the  little  plan  I  have  in  my  mind 
to  bring  this  about  ;  because,  I  haven't  offered  myself  even 
to  the  father  yet,  I  should  have  told  you.  But  that  you  have 
gathered  already  ?  Ah !  oh  dear,  oh  dear,  what  an  edged  tool 
you  are  ! " 

"  Don't  play  with  me  then,"  said  Ralph,  impatiently. 
"  You  know  the  proverb." 

"  A  reply  always  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue  !  "  cried  old 
Arthur,  raising  his  hands  and  eyes  in  admiration.  "  He  is 
always  prepared  !  Oh  dear,  what  a  blessing  to  have  such  a 
ready  wit,  and  so  much  ready  money  to  back  it !  "  Then, 
suddenly  changing  his  tone,  he  went  on  ;  "I  have  been  back- 
wards and  forwards  to  Bray's  lodgings  several  times  within 
the  last  six  months.  It  is  just  half  a  year  since  I  first  saw 
this  delicate  morsel,  and,  oh  dear,  what  a  delicate  morsel  it 
is  !  But  that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  I  am  his  detaining 
creditor  for  seventeen  hundred  pounds.'*~™'"" "'"'""'"■" •■*''~"^- 

"  Vr>u  talk  as  if  you  were  the  only  detaining  creditor," 
said  Ralph,  pulling  out  his  pocket-book.  "  I  am  another  for 
nine  hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds  four  and  threepence." 

"The  only  other,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  old  Arthur,  eagerly. 
"  The  only  other.  Nobody  else  went  to  the  expense  of  lodg- 
ing a  detainer,  trusting  to  our  holding  him  fast  enough,  I 
warrant  you.  We  both  fell  into  the  same  snare  ;  oh,  dear, 
what  a  pitfall  it  was  ;  it  almost  ruined  me  !  And  lent  him  our 
money  upon  bills,  with  only  one  name  besides  his  own,  which 
to  be  sure  everybody  supposed  to  be  a  good  one,  and  was  as 
negotiable  as  money,  but  which  turned  out  you  know  how. 
Just  as  we  should  have  come  upon  him,  he  died  insolvent. 
Ah  !     It  went  verv  nigh  to  ruin  me,  that  loss  did  !  " 

"  Go  on  with  \-o\\x  scheme,"  said  Ralph.  "  It's  of  no  use 
raising  the  cry  of  our  trade  just  now ;  there's  nobody  to  hear 
us." 

"  It's  always  as  well  to  talk  that  way,"  returned  old  Arthur, 


)I2 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


with  a  chuckle,  "  whether  there's  anybody  to  hear  us  or  not. 
Practice  makes  perfect,  you  know.  Now,  if  I  offer  myself  to 
Bray  as  his  son-in-law,  upon  one  simple  condition  that  the 
moment  I  am  fast  married  he  shall  be  quietly  released,  and 
have  an  allowance  to  live  just  t'other  side  the  water  like  a 
gentleman  (he  can't  live  long,  for  I  have  asked  his  doctor, 
and  he  declares  that  his  complaint  is  one  of  the  Heart,  and  it 
is  impossible),  and  if  all  the  advantages  of  this  condition  are 
properly  stated  and  dwelt  upon  to  him,  do  you  think  he  could 
resist  me  ?  And  if  he  could  not  resist  me,  do  you  think  his 
daughter  could  resist  hirn  ?  Shouldn't  I  have  her  Mrs.  Ar- 
thur Gride — pretty  Mrs.  Arthur  Gride — a  tit-bit — a  dainty 
chick — shouldn't  I  have  her  Mrs.  Arthur  Gride  in  a  week,  a 
month,  a  day — any  time  I  chose  to  name  ?  " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Ralph,  nodding  his  head  deliberately,  and 
speaking  in  a  tone  whose  studied  coldness  presented  a  strange 
contrast  to  the  rapturous  squeak  to  which  his  friend  had 
gradually  mounted.  "  Go  on.  You  didn't  come  here  to  ask 
me  that." 

"  Oh  dear,  how  you  talk  !  "  cried  old  Arthur,  edging  himself 
closer  still  to  Ralph.  "  Of  course  I  didn't,  I  don't  pretend  I 
did  !  I  came  to  ask  what  you  would  take  from  me,  if  I  pros- 
pered with  the  father,  for  this  debt  of  yours.  Five  shillings 
in  the  pound,  six  and  eightpence,  ten  shillings  ?  I  ivould  go 
as  far  as  ten  for  such  a  friend  as  you,  we  have  always  been  on 
such  good  terms  ;  but  you  won't  be  so  hard  upon  me,  as  that, 
I  know.     Now,  will  you  ?  " 

"  There's  something  more  to  be  told,"  said  Ralph,  as 
stony  and  immovable  as  ever. 

"  Yes,  yes,  there  is,  but  you  won't  give  me  time,"  returned 
Arthur  Gride.  "  I  want  a  backer  in  this  matter  ;  one  who  can 
talk,  and  urge,  and  press  a  point,  which  you  can  do  as  no  man 
can.  I  can't  do  that,  for  I  am  a  poor,  timid,  nervous  creature. 
Now,  if  you  get  a  good  composition  for  this  debt,  which  you 
long  ago  gave  up  for  lost,  you'll  stand  my  friend,  and  help 
me.     Won't  you  ?  " 

"  I'Jiere's  something  more,"  said  Ralph 

"  No,  no,  indeed,"  cried  Arthur  Gride. 

"Yes,  yes,  indeed.     I  tell  you  yes,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Oh ! "  returned  old  Arthur,  feigning  to  be  suddenly  en- 
lightened. "  You  mean  something  more,  as  concerns  myself 
and  my  intention.  Ay,  surely,  surely.  Shall  1  mention 
that .?  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


613 


"  I  think  you  had  better,"  rejoined  Ralph,  dryly, 

"  I  didn't  like  to  trouble  you  with  that,  because  1  supposed 
your  interest  would  cease  with  your  own  concern  in  the  affair," 
said  Arthur  Gride.  "  That's  kind  of  you  to  ask.  Oh  dear, 
how  ver)'  kind  of  you  !  Why,  supposing  I  had  a  knowledge 
of  some  property — some  little  property — very  little — to  which 
this  pretty  chick  was  entitled  ;  which  nobody  does  or  can 
know  of  at  this  time,  but  which  her  husband  could  sweep  into 
his  pouch,  if  he  knew  as  much  as  I  do,  would  that  account 
for " 

"  For  the  whole  proceeding,"  rejoined  Ralph,  abruptly. 
"  Now,  let  me  turn  this  matter  over,  and  consider  what  I 
ought  to  have  if  I  should  help  you  to  success." 

"  But  don't  be  hard,"  cried  old  Arthur,  raising  his  hands 
with  an  imploring  gesture,  and  speaking  in  a  tremulous  voice. 
"  Don't  be  too  hard  upon  me.  It's  a  very  small  property,  it 
is  indeed.  Say  the  ten  shillings,  and  we'll  close  the  bargain. 
It's  more  than  I  ought  to  give,  but  you're  so  kind — shall  we 
say  the  ten  .-'     Do  now,  do." 

Ralph  took  no  notice  of  these  supplications,  but  sat  for 
three  or  four  minutes  in  a  brown  study,  looking  thoughtfully 
at  the  person  from  whom  they  proceeded.  After  sufficient 
cogitation  he  broke  silence,  and  it  certainly  could  not  be 
objected  that  he  used  any  needless  circumlocution,  or  failed 
to  speak  directly  to  the  purpose. 

"If  you  married  this  girl  without  me,"  said  Ralph,  "you 
must  pay  my  debt  in  full,  because  you  couldn't  set  her  father 
free  otherwise.  It's  plain,  then,  that  I  must  have  the  whole 
amount,  clear  of  all  deduction  or  incumbrance,  or  I  should 
lose  from  being  honored  with  your  confidence,  instead  of 
gaining  by  it.  That's  the  first  article  of  the  treaty.  For  the 
second,  I  shall  stipulate  that  for  my  trouble  in  negotiation  and 
persuasion,  and  helping  you  to  this  fortune,,I  have  ti\e  hun- 
dred pounds.  That's  very  little,  because  you  have'  the  ripe 
lips7"and  the  clustering  hair,  and'  what  not,  all  to  yourself. 
For  the  third  and  last  article,  I  require  that  you  execute  a 
bond  to  me,  this  day,  binding  yourself  in  the  payment  of  these 
two  sums,  before  noon  of  the  day  of  your  marriage  with  Miss 
Madeline  Bray.  You  have  told  me  I  can  urge  and  press  a 
point.  I  press  this  one,  and  will  take  nothing  less  than  these 
terms.  Accept  them  if  you  like.  If  not,  marr\'  her  without 
5ie  if  vou  can.      I  shall  still  cet  mv  debt." 

To  all  entreaties,  protestations,  and  offers  of  compromise 


6 1 4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

between  his  own  proposals  and  those  which  Arthur  Gride  had 
first  suL:;gested,  Ralph  was  deaf  as  an  adder.  He  would  en- 
ter into  no  further  discussion  of  the  subject,  and — while  old 
Arthur  dilated  on  the  enormity  of  his  demands  and  proposed 
modifications  of  them,  approaching  by  degrees  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  terms  he  resisted — sat  perfectly  mute,  looking 
with  an  air  of  quiet  abstraction  over  the  entries  and  papers 
In  his  pocket-book.  Finding  that  it  was  impossible  to  make 
my  impression  upon  his  stanch  friend,  Arthur  Gride,  who  had 
prepared  himself  for  some  such  result  before  he  came,  con- 
sented with  a  heavy  heart  to  the  proposed  treaty,  and  upon 
the  spot  filled  up  the  bond  required  (Ralph  kept  such  instru- 
ments handy),  after  exacting  the  condition  that  Mr.  Nickleby 
should  accompany  him  to  Bray's  lodgings  that  very  hour,  and 
open  the  negotiation  at  once,  should  circumstances  appear 
auspicious  and  favorable  to  their  designs. 

In  pursuance  of  this  last  understanding  the  worthy  gen- 
tlemen went  out  t0  2;ether  shortly  afterwards,  and  Newman 
Noggs  emerged,  bottle  in  hand,  from  the  cupboard,  out  of  the 
upper  door  of  which,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  detection,  he 
had  more  than  once  thrust  his  red  nose  when  such  parts  of 
the  subject  were  under  discussion  as  interested  him  most. 

"  I  have  no  appetite  now,"  said  Newman,  putting  the  flask 
in  his  pocket.     "I've  had  tny  dinner." 

Having  delivered  this  observation  in  a  very  grievous  and 
doleful  tone,  Newman  reached  the  door  in  one  long  limp,  and 
came  back  again  in  another. 

"  I  don't  know  who  she  may  be,  or  what  she  may  be,"  he 
said  ;  "  but  I  pity  her  with  all  my  heart  and  soul ;  and  I  can't 
help  her,  nor  can  I  help  any  of  the  people  against  whom  a 
hundred  tricks,  but  none  so  vile  as  this,  are  plotted  every  day  ! 
Well,  that  adds  to  my  pain,  but  not  to  theirs.  The  thing  is 
no  worse  because  I  know  it,  and  it  tortures  me  as  well  as 
them.  Gride  and  Nickleby  !  Good  pair  for  a  curricle.  Oh 
roguery  !  roguery  !   roguery  !  " 

With  these  reflections,  and  a  very  hard  knock  on  the  crown 
of  his  unfortunate  hat  at  each  repetition  of  the  last  word, 
Newman  Noggs,  whose  brain  was  a  little  muddled  by  so  much 
of  the  contents  of  the  pocket-pistol  as  had  found  their  way 
there  during  his  recent  concealment,  went  forth  to  seek  such 
consolation  as  might  be  derivable  from  the  beef  and  greens 
of  some  cheap  eating-house. 

Meanwhile  the  two  plotters  had  betaken  themselves  to  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  615 

same  house  whither  Nicholas  had  repaired  for  the  first  time 
but  a  few  mornings  before,  and  having  obtained  access  to  Mr. 
Bray,  and  found  his  daughter  from  home,  had  by  a  train  of 
the  most  masterly  approaches  that  Ralph's  utmost  skill  could 
frame,  at  length  laid  open  the  real  object  of  their  visit. 

"  There  he  sits,  Mr.  Bray,"  said  Ralph,  as  the  invalid,  not 
yet  recovered  from  his  surprise,  reclined  in  his  chair,  looking 
alternately  at  him  and  Arthur  Gride.  "  What  if  he  has  had 
the  ill  fortune  to  be  one  cause  of  your  detention  in  this  place  ? 
I  have  been  another.  Men  must  live  ;  you  are  too  much  a 
man  of  the  world  not  to  see  that  in  its  true  light.  We  offer 
the  best  reparation  in  our  power.  Reparation  ?  Here  is  an 
offer  of  marriage,  that  many  a  titled  father  would  leap  at,  for 
his  child.  Mr.  Arthur  Gride,  with  the  fortune  of  a  prince. 
Think  what  a  haul  it  is  !  " 

"  My  daughter,  sir,"  returned  Bray,  haughtily,  "  as  /  have 
brought  her  up,  would  be  a  rich  recompense  for  the  largest 
fortune  that  a  man  could  bestow  in  exchange  for  her  hand." 

"  Precisely  what  I  told  you,"  said  the  artful  Ralph,  turning 
to  his  friend,  old  Arthur.  "  Precisely  what  made  me  consider 
the  thing  so  fair  and  easy.  There  is  no  obligation  on  either 
side.  You  have  money,  and  Miss  Madeline  has  beauty  and 
worth.  She  has  youth,  you  have  money.  She  has  not  money, 
you  have  not  youth.  Tit  for  tat,  quits,  a  match  of  Heaven's 
own  making !  " 

"  Matches  are  made  in  Heaven,  they  say,"  added  Arthur 
Gride,  leering  hideously  at  the  father-in-law  he  wanted.  "  If 
we  are  married,  it  will  be  destiny,  according  to  that." 

"  Then  think,  Mr.  Bray,"  said  Ralph,  hastily  substituting 
for  this  argument  considerations  more  nearly  allied  to  earth, 
"  think  what  a  stake  is  involved  in  the  acceptance  or  rejec- 
tion of  these  proposals  of  my  friend." 

"  How  can  I  accept  or  reject,"  interrupted  Mr.  Bray,  with 
an  irritable  conscientiousness  that  it  really  rested  with  him  to 
decide.  "  It  is  for  my  daughter  to  accept  or  reject  ;  it  is  for 
my  daughter.     You  know  that." 

"  True,"  said  Ralph,  emphatically  ;  "  but  you  have  still  the 
power  to  advise  ;  to  state  the  reasons  for  and  against ;  to 
hint  a  v/ish." 

"  To  hint  a  wish,  sir  !  "  returned  the  debtor,  proud  and 
mean  by  turns,  and  selfish  at  all  times.  "  I  am  her  father,  am 
I  not  t  Why  should  I  hint,  and  beat  about  the  bush  ?  Do 
you  suppose,  like  her  mother's  friends  and  my  enemies — a 


6 1 6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

curse  upon  them  all  ! — that  there  is  anything  in  what  she  has 
done  for  me  but  duty,  sir,  but  duty  ?  Or  do  you  think  that 
my  having  been  unfortunate  is  a  sufficient  reason  why  our  rel- 
ative positions  should  be  changed,  and  that  she  should  com- 
mand and  I  should  obey  ?  Hint  a  wish  too  !  Perhaps  you 
think  because  you  see  me  in  this  place  and  scarcely  able  to 
leave  this  chair  without  assistance,  that  I  am  some  broken- 
spirited  dependent  creature,  without  the  courage  or  power  to 
do  what  I  may  think  best  for  my  own  child.  Still  the  power 
to  hint  a  wish  !     I  hope  so  !  " 

"  Pardon  me,"  returned  Ralph,  who  thoroughly  knew  his 
man,  and  had  taken  his  ground  accordingly  ;  "  you  do  not 
hear  me  out.  I  was  about  to  say  that  your  hinting  a  wish, 
even  hinting  a  wish,  would  surely  be  equivalent  to  com- 
manding." 

"Why,  of  course  it  would,"  retorted  Mr.  Bray,  in  an  ex- 
asperated tone.  "  If  you  don't  happen  to  have  heard  of  the 
time,  sir,  I  tell  you  that  there  was  a  time,  when  I  carried  every 
point  in  triumph  against  her  mother's  whole  family,  althcjtigh 
they  had  power  and  wealth  on  their  side,  by  my  will  alone." 

"  Still,"  rejoined  Ralph,  as  mildly  as  his  nature  would  al- 
low him,  "you  have  not  heard  me  out.  You  are  a  man  yet 
qualified  to  shine  in  society,  with  many  years  of  life  before 
you  ;  that  is,  if  you  lived  in  free  air,  and  under  brighter  skies, 
and  chose  your  own  companions.  Gayety  is  your  element, 
you  have  shone  in  it  before.  Fashion  and  freedom  for  you. 
France,  and  an  annuity  that  would  support  you  there  in  lux- 
ury, would  give  you  a  new  lease  of  life,  would  transfer  you  to 
a  new  existence.  The  town  rang  with  your  expensive  pleas- 
ures once,  and  you  could  blaze  on  a  new  scene  again,  profit- 
ing by  experience,  and  living  a  little  at  others'  cost,  instead 
of  letting  others  live  at  yours.  What  is  there  on  the  reverse 
side  of  the  picture  ?  What  is  there  ?  I  don't  know  which  is 
the  nearest  churchyard,  but  a  gravestone  there,  wherever  it  is, 
and  a  date,  perhaps  two  years  hence,  perhaps  twenty.  That's 
all." 

Mr.  Bray  rested  his  elbow  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and 
shaded  his  face  with  his  hand. 

"I  speak  iilainly,"  said  Ralph,  sitting  down  beside  him, 
"  because  I  feel  strongly.  It's  my  interest  that  you  should 
marry  your  daughter  to  my  friend  Gride,  because  then  he  sees 
me  paid — in  part,  that  is.  I  don't  disguise  it.  I  acknowledge 
it  openly.     But  what  interest  have  you  in  recommending  her 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  617 

to  such  a  step  ?  Keep  that  in  view.  She  might  object,  re- 
monstrate, shed  tears,  talk  of  his  being  too  old,  and  plead 
that  her  life  would  be  rendered  miserable.  But  what  is  it 
now .''  " 

Several  slight  gestures  on  the  part  of  the  invalid,  showed 
that  these  arguments  were  no  more  lost  upon  him,  than  the 
smallest  iota  of  his  demeanor  was  upon  Ralph. 

"What  is  it  now,  I  say,"  pursued  the  wily  usurer,  "or 
what  has  it  a  chance  of  being  ?  If  you  died,  indeed,  the  peo- 
ple you  hate  would  make  her  happy.  But  can  you  bear  the 
thought  of  that .?  " 

"  No  !  "  returned  Bray,  urged  by  a  vindictive  impulse  he 
could  not  repress. 

"  I  should  imagine  not,  indeed ! "'  said  Ralph,  quietly. 
"If  she  profits  by  anybody's  death,"  this  was  said  in  a  lower 
tone,  "  let  it  be  by  her  husband's.  Don't  let  her  have  to  look 
back  to  yours,  as  the  event  from  which  to  date  a  happier  life. 
Where  is  the  objection  >.  Let  me  hear  it  stated.  What  is  it  ? 
That  her  suitor  is  an  old  man  ?  Why,  how  often  do  men  of 
family  and  fortune,  who  haven't  your  excuse,  but  have  all  the 
means  and  superfluities  of  life  within  their  reach,  how  often 
do  they  marry  their  daughters  to  old  men,  or  (worse  still)  to 
young  men  without  heads  or  hearts,  to  tickle  some  idle  vanity, 
strengthen  some  family  interest,  to  secure  some  seat  in  Parlia- 
ment! Judge  for  her,  sir,  judge  for  her.  You  must  know 
best,  and  she  will  live  to  thank  you." 

"  Hush  !  hush  1  "  cried  Mr.  Bray,  suddenly  starting  up, 
and  covering  Ralph's  mouth  with  his  trembling  hand.  "  I 
hear  her  at  the  door  !  " 

There  was  a  L;lcam  of  conscience  in  the  shame  and  terror 
of  tliis~Tiasly  action,  which,  in  one  short  moment,  tore  the  thin 
covering  of  sophistry'. from  the  cruel  design,  and  laid  it  bare 
in  all  its  meanness  and  heartless  deformity.  The  father  fell 
into  his  chair  pale  and  trembling  ;  Arthur  Gride  plucked  and 
fumbled  at  his  hat,  and  durst  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the 
floor  ;  even  Ralph  crouched  for  the  moment  like  a  beaten 
hound,  cowed  by  the  presence  of  one  young  innocent  girl ! 

The  effect  was  almost  as  brief  as  sudden.  Ralph  was  the 
first  to  recover  himself,  and  observing  Madeline's  looks  of 
alarm,  entreated  the  poor  girl  to  be  composed,  assuring  her 
that  there  was  no  cause  for  fear. 

"  A  sudden  spasm,"  said  Ralph,  glancing  at  Mr.  Bray. 
"  He  is  quite  well  now." 


6 1 8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

It  might  have  moved  a  very  hard  and  worldly  heart  to  see 
the  young  and  beautiful  creature,  whose  certain  misery  they 
had  been  contriving  but  a  minute  before,  throw  her  arms 
about  her  father's  neck,  and  pour  forth  words  of  tender  sym- 
pathy and  love,  the  sweetest  a  father's  ear  can  know,  or  child's 
lips  form.  But  Ralph  looked  coldly  on  ;  and  Arthur  Gride, 
whose  bleared  eyes  gloated  only  over  the  outward  beauties, 
and  were  blind  to  the  spirit  which  reigned  within,  evinced  a 
fantastic  kind  of  warmth  certainly,  but  not  exactly  that  kind 
of  warmth  of  feeling  which  the  contemplation  of  virtue  usually 
inspires. 

"  Madeline,"  said  her  father,  gently  disengaging  himself, 
"  it  was  nothing." 

"  But  you  had  that  spasm  yesterday,  and  it  is  terrible  to 
see  you  in  such  pain.     Can  I  do  nothing  for  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing  just  now.  Here  are  two  gentlemen,  Madeline, 
one  of  whom  you  have  seen  before.  She  used  to  sa)-,"  added 
Mr.  Bray,  addressing  Arthur  Gride,  "  that  the  sight  of  you 
always  made  me  worse.  That  was  natural,  knowing  what  she 
did,  and  only  what  she  did,  of  our  connection  and  its  results. 
Well,  well.  Perhaps  she  may  change  her  mind  on  that  point ; 
girls  have  leave  to  change  their  minds,  you  know.  You  are 
very  tired,  my  dear." 

"  I  am  not,  indeed." 

"  indeed  you  are.     You  do  too  much." 

"  I  wish  I  could  do  more." 

"  I  know  you. do,  but  you  overtask  your  strength.  This 
wretched  life,  my  love,  of  daily  labor  and  fatigue,  is  more  than 
you  can  bear.     I  am  sure  it  is.     Poor  Madeline !  " 

With  these  and  many  more  kind  words,  Mr.  Bray  drew  his 
daughter  to  him  and  kissed  her  cheek  affectionately.  Ralph, 
watching  him  sharply  and  closely  in  the  meantime,  made  his 
way  towards  the  door,  and  signed  to  Gride  to  follow  him. 

"  You  will  communicate  with  us  again  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  returned  Mr.  Bray,  hastily  thrusting  his  daugh- 
ter aside.     "  In  a  week.     Give  me  a  week." 

"One  week,"  said  Ralph,  turning  to  his  companion,  "from 
to-day.     Good-morning,  Miss  Madeline,  I  kiss  your  hand." 

"  We  will  shake  hands.  Gride,"  said  Mr.  Bray,  extending 
his,  as  old  Arthur  bowed.  "You  mean  well,  no  doubt.  I  am 
bound  to  say  so  now.  If  I  owed  you  money,  that  was  not  your 
fault.     Madeline,  my  love,  your  hand  here." 

"  Oh  dear  I     If  the  young  lady  would  condescend  !     Only 


NICHOLAS  NICh'LEB  Y.  619 

the  tips  of  her  fingers  !  "  said  Arthur,  hesitating  and  half  re- 
treating. 

Madeline  shrunk  involuntarily  from  the  goblin  figure,  but 
she  placed  the  tips  of  her  fingers  in  his  hand  and  instantly 
withdrew  them.  After  an  ineffectual  clutch,  intended  to  de- 
tain and  carr}'^  them  to  his  lips,  old  Arthur  gave  his  own  fin- 
gers a  mumbling  kiss,  and  with  many  amorous  distortions  of 
visage  went  in  pursuit  of  his  friend  who  was  by  this  time  in 
the  street. 

"  What  does  he  say,  what  does  he  say  ?  What  does  the 
giant  say  to  the  pigmy  ?  "  inquired  Arthur  Gride,  hobbling  up 
to  Ralph. 

"  What  does  the  pigmy  say  to  the  giant  ?  "  rejoined  Ralph, 
elevating  his  eyebrows  and  looking  down  upon  his  questioner. 
"  He  doesn't  know  what   to  say,"   replied  Arthur  Gride. 
"  He  hopes  and  fears.     But  is  she  not  a  dainty  morsel  ?  " 
"  1  have  no  great  taste  for  beauty,"  growled  Ralph. 
"  But  I  have,"  rejoined  Arthur,  rubbing  his  hands.     "  Oh 
dear!     How  handsome  her  eyes  looked  when  she  was  stoop- 
ing over  him  !     Such  long  lashes,  such  delicate  fringe  !     She 
— she — looked  at  me  so  soft." 

"  Not  over-lovingly,  1  think  ?  "  said   Ralph.     "  Did  she  ?  " 
"  No  you  think  not  ?  "  replied   old  Arthur.     "  But   don't 
you  think  it  it   can  be   brought   about  ?     Don't  you  think   it 
can?" 

Ralph  looked  at  him  with  a  contemptuous  frown,  and  re- 
plied with  a  sneer,  and  between  his  teeth  : 

"  Did  you  mark  his  telling  her  she  was  tired  and  did  too 
much,  and  overtasked  her  strength." 
"  Ay,  ay.     What  of  it  ?  " 

"  When  do  you  think  he  ever  told  her  that  before  ?  The 
life  is  more  than  she  can  bear !  Yes,  yes.  He'll  change  it 
for  her." 

"  D'ye  think  it's  done  ?  "  inquired  old  Arthur,  peering  into 
his  companion's  face  with  half-closed  eyes. 

"  I  am  sure  it's  done,"  said  Ralph.  "He  is  trying  to  de- 
ceive himself,  even  before  our  eyes  already.  He  is  making 
believe  that  he  thinks  of  her  good,  and  not  his  own.  He  is 
acting  a  virtuous  part,  and  is  so  considerate  and  affectionate, 
sir,  that  his  daughter  scarcely  knew  him.  I  saw  a  tear  of  sur- 
prise in  her  eye.  There'll  be  a  few  more  tears  of  surprise 
there  before  long,  though  of  a  dift'erent  kind.  Oh  !  we  may 
wait  with  confidence  for  this  day  week." 


620  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER    XLVIII. 

BEING    FOR    THE     BENEFIT     OF     MR.    VINCENT    CRUMMLES,    Af^D 
POSITIVELY    HIS    LAST   APPEARANCE    ON    THIS    STAGE. 

It  was  with  a  very  sad  and  heavy  heart,  oppressed  by 
many  painful  ideas,  that  Nicholas  retraced  his  steps  eastward, 
and  betook  himself  to  the  counting  house  of  Cheeryble  Broth- 
ers. Whatever  the  idle  hopes  he  had  suffered  himself  to  en- 
tertain, whatever  the  pleasant  visions  which  had  sprung  up  in 
his  mind  and  grouped  themselves  around  the  fair  image  of 
Madeline  Bray,  they  were  now  dispelled,  and  not  a  vestige  of 
their  gayety  and  brightness  remained. 

It  would  be  a  poor  compliment  to  Nicholas's  better  na- 
ture, and  one  which  he  was  verj-  far  from  deserving,  to  insin- 
uate that  the  solution,  and  such  a  solution,  of  the  mysterj' 
which  had  seemed  to  surround  Madeline  Bray,  where  he  was 
ignorant  even  of  her  name,  had  damped  his  ardor  or  cooled 
the  fervor  of  his  admiration.  If  he  had  regarded  her  before, 
with  such  a  passion  as  young  men  attracted  by  mere  beauty 
and  eloquence  may  entertain,  he  was  now  conscious  of  much 
deeper  and  stronger  feelings.  But,  reverence  for  the  truth 
and  purity  of  her  heart,  respect  for  the  helplessness  and  lone- 
liness of  her  situation,  sympathy  with  the  trials  of  one  so 
young  and  fair,  and  admiration  of  her  great  and  noble  spirit, 
all  seemed  to  raise  her  far  above  his  reach,  and,  while  they 
imparted  new  depth  and  dignity  to  his  love,  to  whisper  that  it 
was  hopeless. 

"  I  will  keep  my  word,  as  I  have  pledged  it  to  her,"  said 
Nicholas,  manfully.  "  This  is  no  common  trust  that  I  have 
to  discharge,  and  I  will  perform  the  double  duty  that  is  im- 
posed upon  me  most  scrupulously  and  strictly.  My  secret 
feelings  deserve  no  consideration  in  such  a  case  as  this,  and 
they  shall  have  none." 

Still,  there  were  the  secret  feelings  in  existence  just  the 
same,  and  in  secret  Nicholas  rather  encouraged  them  than 
otherwise  ;  reasoning  (if  he  reasoned  at  all)  that  there  they 
could  do  no  harm  to  anybody  but  himself,  and  that  if  he  kept 
them  to  himself  from  a  sense  of  duty,  he  had   an   additional 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  621 

right  to  entertain  himself  with  them  as  a  reward  for  his  he- 
roism. 

All  these  thoughts,  coupled  with  what  he  had  seen  that 
morning  and  the  anticipation  of  his  next  visit,  rendered  him 
a  very  dull  and  abstracted  companion  ;  so  much  so,  indeed, 
that  Tim  Linkinwater  suspected  he  must  have  made  the  mis- 
take of  a  figure  somewhere,  which  was  preying  upon  his  mind, 
and  seriously  conjured  him,  if  such  were  the  case,  to  make  a 
clean  breast  and  scratch  it  out,  rather  than  have  his  whole 
life  embittered  by  the  tortures  of  remorse. 

But  in  reply  to  these  considerate  representations,  and 
many  others  both  from  Tim  and  Mr.  Frank,  Nicholas  could 
only  be  brought  to  state  that  he  was  never  merrier  in  his  life  ; 
and  so  went  on  all  day,  and  so  went  towards  home  at  night, 
still  turning  over  and  over  again  the  same  subjects,  thinking 
over  and  over  again  the  same  things,  and  arriving  over  and 
over  again  at  the  same  conclusions. 

In  this  pensive,  wayward,  and  uncertam  state,  people  are 
apt  to  lounge  and  loiter  without  knowing  why,  to  read  pla- 
cards on  the  walls  with  great  attention  and  without  the  smallest 
idea  of  one  word  of  their  contents,  and  to  stare  most  ear- 
nestly through  shop-windows  at  things  which  they  don't  see. 
It  was  thus  that  Nicholas  found  himself  poring  with  the  ut- 
most interest  over  a  large  play-bill  hanging  outside  a  Minor 
Theatre  which  he  had  to  pass  on  his  way  home,  and  reading 
a  list  of  the  actors  and  actresses  who  had  promised  to  do 
honor  to  some  approaching  benefit,  with  as  much  gravity  as  if 
it  had  been  a  catalogue  of  the  names  of  those  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen who  stood  highest  upon  the  Book  of  Fate,  and  he  had 
been  looking  anxiously  for  his  own.  He  glanced  at  the  top 
of  the  bill,  with  a  smile  at  his  own  dulness,  as  he  prepared  to 
resume  his  walk,  and  there  saw  announced,  in  large  letters 
with  a  large  space  between  each  of  them,  "  Positively  the  last 
appearance  of  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  of  Provincial  Celeb- 
ritv  !  !  !  " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Nicholas,  turning  back  again.  "  It 
can't  be." 

But  there  it  was.  In  one  line  by  itself  was  an  announce- 
ment of  the  first  night  of  a  new  melodrama  ;  in  another  line 
by  itself  was  an  announcement  of  the  last  six  nights  of  an  old 
one  ;  a  third  line  was  devoted  to  the  re-engagement  of  the  un- 
rivalled African  Knife-swallower,  who  had  kindly  suffered  him- 
self to  be  prevailed  upon  to  forego   his  countr)-  engagements 


62  2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

for  one  week  longer ;  a  fourth  line  announced  that  Mr.  Snittle 
Timberry,  having  recovered  from  his  late  severe  indisposition, 
would  have  the  honor  of  appearing  that  evening ;  a  fifth  line 
said  that  there  were  "  Cheers,  Tears,  and  Laughter !  "  every 
night ;  a  sixth,  that  that  was  positively  the  last  appearance  of 
Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  of  Provincial  Celebrity. 

"  Surely  it  must  be  the  same  man,"  thought  Nicholas. 
"  There  can't  be  two  Vincent  Crummleses." 

The  better  to  settle  this  question  he  referred  to  the  bill 
again,  and  finding  that  there  was  a  Baron  in  the  first  piece, 
and  that  Roberto  (his  son)  was  enacted  by  one  Master 
Crummies,  and  Spaletro  (his  nephew)  by  one  Master  Percy 
Crummies — their  last  appearances — and  that,  incidental  to 
the  piece,  was  a  characteristic  dance  by  the  characters,  and  a 
Castanet  pas  seul  by  the  Infant  Phenomenon — her  last  appear- 
ance— he  no  longer  entertained  any  doubt ;  and  presenting 
himself  at  the  stage  door,  and  sending  in  a  scrap  of  paper 
with  "  Mr.  Johnson  "  written  thereon  in  pencil,  was  presently 
conducted  by  a  Robber  M'ith  a  very  large  belt  and  buckle 
round  his  waist,  and  very  large  leather  gauntlets  on  his  hands, 
into  the  presence  of  his  former  manager. 

Mr.  Crummies  was  unfeignedly  glad  to  see  him,  and  start- 
ing up  from  before  a  small  dressing-glass,  with  one  very  bushy 
eyebrow  stuck  on  crooked  over  his  left  e}-e,  and  the  fellow 
eyebrow  and  the  calf  of  one  of  his  legs  in  his  hand,  embraced 
him  cordially ;  at  the  same  time  observing,  that  it  would  do 
Mrs.  Crummles's  heart  good  to  bid  him  good-by  before  they 
went. 

"  You  were  always  a  favorite  of  hers,  Johnson,"  said 
Crummies,  "  always  were  from  the  first.  I  was  quite  easy  in  my 
mind  about  you  from  that  first  day  you  dined  with  us.  One 
that  Mrs.  Crummies  took  a  fancy  to,  was  sure  to  turn  out 
right.     Ah  !  Johnson,  what  a  woman  that  is  !  " 

"  I  am  sincerely  obliged  to  her  for  her  kindness  in  this 
and  all  other  respects,"  said  Nicholas.  "  P)Ut  where  are  you 
going,  that  you  talk  about  bidding  good-by  .''  " 

"  Haven't  you  seen  it  in  the  papers  ?  "  said  Crummies, 
with  some  dignitv. 

"No,"  replied  Nicholas. 

"  I  wonder  at  tliat,"  said  the  manager.  "  It  was  among 
the  varieties.  I  had  the  paragraph  here  somewhere — but  I 
don't  know — oh,  yes,  here  it  is." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Crummies,  after  pretending  that  he  thought 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  623 

he  must  have  lost  it,  produced  a  square  inch  of  newspaper 
from  the  pocket  of  the  pantaloons  he  wore  in  private  life  (which 
together  with  the  plain  clothes  of  several  other  gentlemen,  lay 
scattered  about  on  a  kind  of  dresser  in  the  room),  and 
gave  it  to  Nicholas  to  read  : 

"  The  talented  Vincent  Crummies,  long  favorably  known 
to  fame  as  a  country  manager  and  actor  of  no  ordinary  pre- 
tensions, is  about  to  cross  the  Atlantic  on  a  histrionic  expedi- 
tion. Crummies  is  to  be  accompanied,  we  hear,  by  his  lady 
and  gifted  family.  We  know  no  man  superior  to  Crummies 
in  his  particular  line  of  character,  or  one  who,  whether  as  a 
public  or  private  individual,  could  carry  with  him  the  best 
wishes  of  a  larger  circle  of  friends.  Crummies  is  certain  to 
succeed." 

"  Here's  another  bit,"  said  Mr.  Crummies,  handing  over  a 
still  smaller  scrap.  "  This  is  from  the  notices  to  correspon- 
dents, this  one." 

Nicholas  read  it  aloud.  "  '  Philo-Dramaticus.  Crummies, 
the  countr}^  manager  and  actor,  cannot  be  more  than  forty- 
three,  or  forty-four  years  of  age.  Crummies  is  not  a  Prussian, 
having  been  born  at  Chelsea.'  Humph  !  "  said  Nicholas, 
"  that's  an  odd  paragraph." 

"  Very,"  returned  Crummies,  scratching  the  side  of  his 
nose,  and  looking  at  Nicholas  with  an  assumption  of  great 
unconcern.  "  I  can't  think  who  puts  these  things  in.  / 
didn't." 

Still  keeping  his  eye  on  Nicholas,  Mr.  Crummies  shook 
his  head  twice  or  thrice  with  profound  gravit\%  and  remarking 
that  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  imagine  how  the  news- 
papers found  out  the  things  they  did,  folded  up  the  extracts 
and  put  them  in  his  pocket  again. 

''  I  am  astonished  to  hear  this  news,"  said  Nicholas.  "  Go- 
ing to  America  !  You  had  no  such  thing  in  contemplation 
when  I  was  with  you." 

"  No,"  replied  Crummies,  "  I  hadn't  then.  The  fact  is, 
that  Mrs.  Crummies — most  extraordinary  woman,  Johnson." 
Here  he  broke  off  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Nicholas,  smiling.  "  The  prospect  of  an  ad- 
dition to  your  family  }  " 

"  The  seventh  addition,  Johnson,"  returned  Mr.  Crumm- 
ies, solemnly.  ''  I  thought  such  a  child  as  the  Phenomenon 
must  have  been  a  closer  ;  but  it  seems  we  are  to  have  another. 
She  is  a  very  remarkable  woman." 


624  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  said  Nicholas,  "and  I  hope  this 
may  prove  a  phenomenon  too." 

"  Why,  it'b  pretty  sure  to  be  something  uncommon,  I  sup- 
pose," rejoined  Mr.  Crummies.  "The  talent  of  the  other 
three  is  principally  in  combat  and  serious  pantomime.  I 
should  like  this  one  to  have  a  turn  for  juvenile  tragedy  ;  I 
understand  they  want  something  of  that  sort  in  America  very 
mch.  However,  we  must  take  it  as  it  comes.  Perhaps  it 
may  have  a  genius  for  the  tight-rope.  It  may  have  any  sort 
of  genius,  in  short,  if  it  takes  after  its  mother,  Johnson,  for 
she  is  an  universal  genius  ;  but,  whatever  its  genius  is,  that 
genius  shall  be  developed." 

Expressing  himself  after  these  terms,  Mr.  Crummies  put  on 
his  other  eyebrow,  and  the  calves  of  his  legs,  and  then  put  on  his 
legs,  which  were  of  a  yellowish  fiesh-color,  and  rather  soiled 
about  the  knees,  from  frequent  going  down  upon  those  joints, 
in  curses,  prayers,  last  struggles,  and  other  strong  passages. 

While  the  ex-manager  completed  his  toilet,  he  informed 
Nicholas  that  as  he  should  have  a  fair  start  in  America,  from 
the  proceeds  of  a  tolerably  good  engagement  which  he  had 
been  fortunate  enough  to  obtain,  and  as  he  and  Mrs.  Crumm- 
ies could  scarcely  hope  to  act  forever  (not  being  immortal, 
except  in  the  breath  of  Fame  and  in  a  figurative  sense),  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  settle  there  permanently,  in  the  hope 
of  acquiring  some  land  of  his  own  which  would  support  them 
in  their  old  age,  and  which  they  could  afterwards  bequeath  to 
their  children.  Nicholas,  having  highly  commended  this  reso- 
lution, Mr.  Crummies  went  on  to  impart  such  further  intelli- 
gence relative  to  their  mutual  friends  as  he  thought  might 
prove  interesting  ;  informing  Nicholas,  among  other  things, 
that  Miss  Snevellicci  was  happily  married  to  an  affluent  young 
wax-chandler  who  had  supplied  the  theatre  with  candles,  and 
that  Mr.  Lillyvick  didn't  dare  to  say  his  soul  was  his  own, 
such  was  the  tyrannical  sway  of  Mrs.  Lillyvick,  who  reigned 
paramount  and  supreme. 

Nicholas  responded  to  this  confidence  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Crummies,  by  confiding  to  him  his  own  name,  situation,  and 
prospects,  and  informing  him  in  as  few  general  words  as  he 
could,  of  the  circumstances  which  had  led  to  their  first  ac- 
quaintance. After  congratulating  him  with  great  heartiness 
on  the  improved  state  of  his  fortunes,  Mr.  Crummies  gave  him 
to  understand  that  next  morning  he  and  his  were  to  start  for 
Liverpool,  where  the  vessel  lay  which  was  to  carry  them  from 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


625 


the  shores  of  England,  and  that  if  Nicholas  wished  to  take  a 
last  adieu  of  Mrs.  Crummies,  he  must  repair  with  him  that 
night  to  a  farewell-supper,  given  in  honor  of  the  family  at  a 
neighboring  tavern  ;  at  which  Mr.  Snittle  Timberr}'  would 
preside,  while  the  honors  of  the  vice-chair  would  be  sustained' 
by  the  African  Swallower. 

The  room  being  by  liiis  time  very  warm  and  somewhat 
crowded,  in  consequence  of  the  influx  of  four  gentlemen,  who 
had  just  killed  each  other  in  the  piece  under  representation, 
Nicholas  accepted  the  invitation,  and  promised  to  return  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  performances  ;  preferring  the  cool  air 
and  twilight  out  of  doors  to  the  mingled  perfume  of  gas, 
orange-peel,  and  gunpowder,  which  pervaded  the  hot  and 
glaring  theatre. 

He  availed  himself  of  this  interval  to  buy  a  silver  snuff- 
box— the  best  his  funds  would  afford — as  a  token  of  remem- 
brance for  Mr.  Crummies,  and  having  purchased  besides  a 
pair  of  ear-rings  for  Mrs.  Crummies,  a  necklace  for  the  Phe- 
nomenon, and  a  flaming  shirt-pin  for  each  of  the  young  gentle- 
men, he  refreshed  himself  with  a  walk,  and  returning  a  little 
after  the  appointed  time,  found  the  lights  out,  the  theatre 
empty,  the  curtain  raised  for  the  night,  and  Mr.  Crummies 
walking  up  and  down  the  stage  expecting  his  arrival. 

"Timberry  won't  be  long,"  said  Mr.  Crummies.  "He 
played  the  audience  out  to-night.  He  does  a  faithful  black 
in  the  last  piece,  and  it  takes  him  a  little  longer  to  wash  him- 
self." 

"  A  very  unpleasant  line  of  character,  I  should  think  ?  " 
said  Nicholas. 

"  No,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Crummies  ;  "  it  comes 
off  easily  enough,  and  there's  only  the  face  and  neck.  We 
had  a  first-tragedy  man  in  our  company  once,  who,  when  he 
played  Othello,  used  to  black  himself  all  over.  But  that's 
feeling  a  part  and  going  into  it  as  if  you  meant  it ;  it  isn't 
usual  ;  more's  the  pity." 

Mr.  Snittle  Timberry  now  appeared,  arm  in  arm  with  the 
African  Swallower,  and  being  introduced  to  Nicholas,  raised 
his  hat  half-a-foot,  and  said  he  was  proud  to  know  him.  The 
Swallower  said  the  same,  and  looked  and  spoke  remarkably 
like  an  Irishman. 

"  I  see  by  the  bills  that  you  have  been  ill,  sir,"  said  Nich- 
olas to  Mr.  Timberry.  "  1  hope  you  are  none  the  worse  for 
your  exertions  to-night  ?  " 

40 


626  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

Mr,  Timberry  in  reply,  shook  his  head  with  a  gloomy  air, 
tapped  his  chest  several  times  with  great  significancy,  and 
drawing  his  cloak  more  closely  about  him,  said,  "  But  no 
matter,  no  matter.      Come  !  " 

It  is  observable  that  when  people  upon  the  stage  are  in 
any  strait  involving  the  very  last  extremity  of  weakness  and 
exhaustion,  they  invariably  perform  feats  of  strength  requiring 
great  ingenuitv  and  muscular  power.  Thus,  a  wounded  prince 
or  bandit  chief,  who  is  bleeding  to  death  and  too  faint  to 
move,  except  to  the  softest  music  (and  then  only  upon  his 
hands  and  knees),  shall  be  seen  to  approach  a  cottage  dool 
for  aid,  in  such  a  series  of  writhings  and  twistings,  and  with 
such  curlings  up  of  the  legs,  and  such  rollings  over  and  over, 
and  such  gettings  up  and  tumblings  down  again,  as  could 
never  be  achieved  save  by  a  very  strong  man  skilled  in  pos- 
ture-making. And  so  natural  did  this  sort  of  performance 
come  to  Mr.  Snittle  Timberry,  that  on  their  way  out  of  the 
theatre  and  towards  the  tavern  where  the  supper  was  to  be 
holden,  he  testified  the  severity  of  his  recent  indisposition  and 
its  wasting  effects  upon  the  nervous  system,  by  a  series  of 
gymnastic  performances  which  were  the  admiration  of  all 
witnesses. 

"  Why  this  is  indeed  a  joy  I  had  not  looked  for  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Crummies,  when  Nicholas  was  presented. 

"  Nor  I,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  It  is  by  a  mere  chance  that 
I  have  this  opportunity  of  seeing  you,  although  I  would  have 
made  a  great  exertion  to  have  availed  myself  of  it." 

"  Here  is  one  whom  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Crummies, 
thrusting  forward  the  Phenomenon  in  a  blue  gauze  frock, 
extensively  flounced,  and  trousers  of  the  same ;  "  and  here 
another — and  another,"  presenting  the  Masters  Crummleses. 
"  And  how  is  your  friend,  the  faithful  Digby .''  " 

"  Digby  !  "  said  Nicholas,  forgetting  at  the  instant  that 
this  had  been  Smike's  theatrical  name.  "  Oh  yes.  He's  quite 
— what  am  I  saying? — he  is  very  far  from  well." 

"  How !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Crummies,  with  a  tragic  recoil. 

"  I  fear,"  said  Nicholas,  shaking  his  head,  and  making  an 
attempt  to  smile,  "  that  your  better-half  would  be  more  struck 
with  him  now,  than  ever." 

"  What  mean  you  ?  "  rejoined  Mrs.  Crummies,  in  her  most 
popular  manner.     "  Whence  comes  this  altered  tone  }  " 

"  I  mean  that  a  dastardly  enemy  of  mine  has  struck  at  me 
through  hiiu,  and  that  whilehe  thinks  to  torture  me,  he  inflicts 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


627 


on  him  such  agonies  of  terror  and  suspense  as You  will 

excuse  me,  I  am  sure,"  said  Nicholas,  checking  himself.  "I 
should  never  speak  of  this,  and  never  do,  except  to  those  who 
know  the  facts,  but  for  a  moment  1  forgot  myself." 

With  this  hasty  apology  Nicholas  stooped  down  to  salute 
the  Phenomenon,  and  changed  the  subject  ;  inwardly  cursing 
his  precipitation,  and  very  much  wondering  what  Mrs. 
Crummies  must  think  of  so  sudden  an  explosion. 

That  lady-  seemed  to  think  very  little  about  it,  for  the 
supper  being  by  this  time  on  table,  she  gave  her  hand  to 
Nicholas  and  repaired  with  a  stately  step  to  the  left  hand  of 
Mr.  Snittle  Timberr}\  Nicholas  had  the  honor  to  support 
her,  and  Mr.  Crummies  was  placed  upon  the  chairman's  right; 
the  Phenomenon  and  the  Masters  Crummies  sustained  the 
vice. 

The  company  amounted  in  number  to  some  twenty-five  or 
thirty,  being  composed  of  such  members  of  the  theatrical  pro- 
fession, then  engaged  or  disengaged  in  London,  as  were 
numbered  among  the  most  ultimate  friends  of  ]\Ir.  and  Mrs. 
Crummies.  The  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  pretty  equally 
balanced  ;  the  expenses  of  the  entertainment  being  defrayed 
by  the  latter,  each  of  whom  had  the  privilege  of  inviting  one 
of  the  former  as  his  guest. 

It  was  upon  the  whole  a  very  distinguished  party,  for  in- 
dependently of  the  lesser  theatrical  lights  who  clustered  on 
this  occasion  round  Mr.  Snittle  Timberiy,  there  was  a  literary 
gentleman  present  who  had  dramatized  in  his  time  two 
hundred  and  forty-seven  novels  as  fast  as  they  had  come  out 
— some  of  them  faster  than  they  had  come  out — and  who  was 
a  literary  gentleman  in  consequence. 

This  gentleman  sat  on  the  left  hand  of  Nicholas,  to  whom 
he  was  introduced  by  his  friend  the  African  Swallower,  from 
the  bottom  of  the  table,  with  a  high  eulogium  upon  his  fame 
and  reputation. 

"  I  am  happy  to  know  a  gentleman  of  such  great  distinc- 
tion," said  Nicholas,  politely. 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  wit,  "you're  very  welcome,  I'm  sure. 
The  honor  is  reciprocal,  sir,  as  1  usually  say  when  I  dramatize 
a  book.     Did  you  ever  hear  a  definition  of  fame,  sir }  " 

•'  I  have  heard  several,"  replied  Nicholas,  with  a  smile. 
"  What  is  yours  !  " 

"When  I  dramatize  a  bonk,  sir,"  said  the  literary  gentle- 
man,"///(?/ 'y  fame.     For  its  author." 


628  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  "  rejoined  Nicholas. 
"That's  fame  sir,"  said  the  hterary  gentleman. 
"  So  Richard  Turpin,  Tom  King,  and  Jerry  Abershawhave 
handed  down  to  fame  the  names  of  those  on  whom  they  com- 
mitted their  most  impudent  robberies  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,  sir,"  answered  the 
literary  gentleman. 

"  Shakspeare  dramatized  stories  which  had  previously 
appeared  in  print,  it  is  true,"  observed  Nicholas. 

"  Meaning  Bill,  sir  ?  "  said  the  literary  gentleman.  "  So 
he  did.  Bill  was  an  adapter,  certainly.  So  he  was — and  very 
well  he  adapted  too — considering." 

"  I  was  about  to  say,"  rejoined  Nicholas,  "  that  Shaks- 
peare derived  some  of  his  plots  from  old  tales  and  legends 
in  general  circulation  ;  but  it  seems  to  me,  that  some  of  the 
gentlemen  of  your  craft  at  the  present  day,  have  shot  very  far 
beyond  him — " 

"  You're  quite  right,  sir,"  interrupted  the  literary  gentle- 
man, leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  exercising  his  toothpick  ; 
"  Human  intellect,  sir,  has  progressed  since  his  time,  is  pro- 
gressing, will  progress." 

"  Shot  beyond  him,  I  mean,"  resumed  Nicholas,   "  in  quite 
another   respect,  for,  whereas    he  brought  within  the   magic 
circle  of  his  genius,  traditions  peculiarly  adapted  for   his  pur- 
pose,  and   turned  familiar  things    into   constellations  which 
should  enlighten  the  world  for  ages,  you  drag  within  the  magic 
circle  of  your  dulness,  subjects  not  at  all   adapted  to  the 
purpose  of  the  stage,  and  debase  as  he  exalted.     For  instance, 
you  take  the  uncompleted  books  of  living  authors,  fresh  from 
their  hands,  wet  from  the  press,  cut,  hack,  and  can-e  them  to 
the  powers  and  capacities   of  your  actors,  and  the  capability 
of  your  theatres,  finish  unfinished  works,  hastily  and  crudely 
vamp   up   ideas  not  yet  worked    out    by  their   original    pro- 
jector, but  which    have   doubtless  cost  him  many  thoughtful 
days  and  sleepless  nights  ;  by  a  comparison  of   incidents  and 
dialogue,  down  to   the  \ery  last  word  he  may  have   written  a 
fortnight  before,  do  your  utmost  to  anticipate  his  plot — all 
this  without  his   permission,  and   against  his  will  ;  and  then, 
to    crown    the    whole    proceeding,    publish    in    some    mean 
pamphlet,  an  unmeaning  farrago  of  garbled   extracts  from  his 
work,  to  which  you  put  your  name  as  author,  with  the  honor- 
able distinction   annexed,   of  having  perpetrated  a   hundred 
other   outrages  of  the  same  description.     Now,  show   me  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  G29 

distinction  between  such  pilfering  as  this,  and  picking  a  man's 
pocket  in  the  street :  unless,  indeed,  it  be,  that  the  legislature 
has  a  regard  for  pocket  handkerchiefs,  and  leaves  men's 
brains  (except  when  they  are  knocked  out  by  violence),  to  take 
care  of  themselves." 

"  Men  must  live,  sir,"  said  the  literar}'  gentleman, 
shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  That  would  be  an  equally  fair  plea  in  both  cases," 
replied  Nicholas  ;  ''but  if  you  put  it  upon  that  ground,  I  have 
nothing  more  to  say,  than,  that  if  I  were  a  writer  of  books,  and 
you  a  thirsty  dramatist,  I  would  rather  pay  your  tavern  score 
for  six  months,  large  as  it  might  be,  than  have  a  niche  in  the 
Temple  of  Fame  with  you  for  the  humblest  corner  of  my 
pedestal,  through  six  hundred  generations." 

The  conversation  threatened  to  take  a  somewhat  angry 
tone  when  it  had  arrived  thus  far,  but  Mrs.  Crummies 
opportunefy  interposed  to  prevent  its  leading  to  any  violent 
outbreak,  by  making  some  inquiries  of  the  literary  gentleman 
relative  to  the  plots  of  the  six  new  pieces  which  he  had  written 
by  contract  to  introduce  the  African  Knife-swallower  in  his 
various  unrivalled  performances.  This  speedily  engaged  him 
in  an  animated  conversation  with  that  lady,  in  the  interest  of 
which,  all  recollection  of  his  recent  discussion  with  Nicholas 
very  quickly  evaporated. 

The  board  being  now  clear  of  the  more  substantial  articles 
of  food,  and  punch,  wine,  and  spirits  being  placed  upon  it  and 
handed  about,  the  guests,  who  had  been  previously  conversing 
in  little  groups  of  three  or  four,  gradually  fell  off  into  a  dead 
silence,  while  the  majority  of  those  present,  glanced  from  time 
to  time  at  Mr.  Snittle  Timberr}^,  and  the  bolder  spirits  did 
not  even  hesitate  to  strike  the  table  with  their  knuckles,  and 
plainly  intimate  their  expectations,  by  uttering  such  en- 
couragements as  "  Now,  Tim,"  "Wake  up,  Mr.  Chairman," 
"  All  charged,   sir,  and  waiting  for  a  toast,"  and  so  forth. 

To  these  remonstrances,  Mr.  Timberr}-  deigned  no  other 
rejoinder  than  striking  his  chest  and  gasping  for  breath,  and 
giving  many  other  indications  of  being  still  the  victim  of  in- 
disposition— for  a  man  must  not  make  himself  too  cheap 
either  on  the  stage  or  off — while  Mr.  Crummies,  who  knew 
full  well  that  he  would  be  the  subject  of  the  forthcoming  toast, 
sat  gracefully  in  his  chair  with  his  arm  thrown  carelessly  over 
the  back,  and  now  and  then  lifted  his  glass  to  his  mouth  and 
drank  a  little  punch,  with   the  same  air  with  which  he  was 


630  NICHOLAS  iXICKLEBY. 

accustomed  to  take  long  draughts  of  nothing,  out  of  the 
pasteboard  goblets  in  banquet  scenes. 

At  length  Mr.  Snittle  Timberry  rose  in  the  most  approved 
attitude,  with  one  hand  in  the  breast  of  his  waistcoat  and  the 
other  on  the  nearest  snuff-box,  and  having  been  received  with 
great  enthusiasm,  proposed,  with  abundance  of  quotations,  his 
friend  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  :  ending  a  pretty  long  speech 
by  extending  his  right  hand  on  one  side  and  his  left  on  the 
other,  and  severally  calling  upon  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cnnnmles  to 
grasp  the  same.  This  clone,  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies  returned 
thanks,  and  that  done,  the  African  Swallower  proposed  Mrs. 
Vincent  Crummies,  in  affecting  terms.  Then  were  heard  loud 
moans  and  sobs  from  Mrs.  Crummies  and  the  ladies,  despite 
of  which  that  heroic  woman  insisted  upon  returning  thanks 
herself,  which  she  did,  in  a  manner  and  in  a  speech  which  has 
never  been  surpassed  and  seldom  equalled.  It  then  became 
the  duty  of  Mr.  Snittle  Timberry  to  give  the  young  Crum- 
mleses,  which  he  did  ;  after  which  Mr.  Vincent  Crummies,  as 
their  father,  addressed  the  company  in  a  supplementary 
speech,  enlarging  on  their  virtues,  amiabilities,  and  excel- 
lences, and  wishing  that  they  were  the  sons  and  daughter  of 
every  lady  and  gentleman  present.  These  solemnities  having 
been  succeeded  by  a  decent  interval,  enlivened  by  musical  and 
other  entertainments,  Mr.  Crummies  proposed  that  ornament 
of  the  profession,  Mr.  Snittle  Timberry  ;  and  at  a  little  later 
period  of  the  evening,  the  health  of  that  other  ornament  of 
the  profession,  the  African  Swallower,  his  very  dear  friend,  if 
he  would  allow  him  to  call  him  so  ;  which  liberty  (there  being 
no  particular  reason  why  he  should  not  allow  it)  the  African 
Swallower  graciously  permitted.  The  literary  gentleman  was 
then  about  to  be  drunk,  but  it  being  discovered  that  he  had 
been  drunk  for  some  time  in  another  acceptation  of  the  term, 
and  was  then  asleep  on  the  stairs,  the  intention  was  aban- 
doned, and  the  honor  transferred  to  the  ladies.  Finally,  after 
a  very  long  sitting,  Mr.  Snittle  Timberry  vacated  the  chair, 
and  the  company  with  many  adieus  and  embraces  dispersed. 

Nicholas  waited  to  the  last  to  give  his  little  presents.  When 
he  had  said  good-by  all  round  and  came  to  Mr.  Crummies, 
he  could  not  but  mark  the  difference  between  their  present 
separation  and  their  parting  at  Portsmouth.  Not  a  jot  of  his 
theatrical  manner  remained  ;  he  put  out  his  hand  with  an 
air  which,  if  he  could  have  summoned  it  at  will,  would  have 
made  him  the  best  actor  of  his  day  in  homely  parts,  and  when 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  63 1 

Nicholas  shook  it  with  the  warmth  he  honestly  felt,  appeared 
thoroughly  melted. 

"  We  were  a  very  happy  little  company,  Johnson,"  said 
poor  Crummies.  "  You  and  I  never  had  a  word.  I  shall  be 
ver)'  glad  to-morrow^  morning  to  think  that  I  saw  you  again, 
but  now  I  almost  wish  you  hadn't  come." 

'  Nicholas  was  about  to  return  a  cheerful  reply,  when  he  was 
greatly  disconcerted  by  the  sudden  apparition  of  Mrs.  Grudden, 
who  it  seemed  had  declined  to  attend  the  supper  in  order  that 
she  might  rise  earlier  in  the  morning,  and  who  now  burst  out 
of  an  adjoining  bedroom,  habited  in  very  extraordinar}^  white 
robes  ;  and  throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck,  hugged  him 
with  great  affection. 

""what !  Are  you  going  too  ?  "  said  Nicholas,  submitting 
with  as  good  a  grace  as  if  she  had  been  the  finest  young 
creature  in  the  world. 

"Going?"  returned  Mrs.  Grudden.  "Lord  ha'  mercy, 
what  do  you  think  they'd  do  without  me  ?  " 

Nicholas  submitted  to  another  hug  with  even  a  better 
grace  than  before,  if  that  were  possible,  and  waving  his  hat 
as  cheerfully  as  he  could,  took  farewell  of  the  Vincent  Crumm- 
leses. 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 


CHRONICLES  THE  FURTHER  PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  NICKLEBY 
FAMILY,  AND  THE  SEQUEL  OF  THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE 
GENTLEMAN  IN  THE  SMALL-CLOTHES. 

While  Nicholas,  absorbed  in  the  one  engrossing  subject 
of  interest  which  had  recently  opened  upon  him,  occupied  his 
leisure  hours  with  thoug^hts  of  Madeline  Brav,  and  in  execution 
of  the  commissions  which  the  anxiety  of  Brother  Charles  in 
her  behalf  imposed  upon  him,  saw  her  again  and  again,  and 
each  time  with  greater  danger  to  his  peace  of  mind  and  a 
more  weakening  effect  upon  the  lofty  resolutions  he  had 
formed,  Mrs.  Nickleby  and  Kate  continued  to  live  in  peace 
and  quiet,  agitated  by  no  other  cares  than  those  which  were 
connected  with  certain  harassing  proceedings  taken  by  Mr. 
Snawley  for  the  recovery   of  his  son,  and  their  anxiety  for 


63 2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

Smike  himself,  whose  health,  long  upon  the  wane,  began  to 
be  so  much  affected  by  apprehension  and  uncertainty  as  some- 
times to  occasion  both  them  and  Nicholas  considerable  un- 
easiness, and  even  alarm. 

It  was  no  complaint  or  murmur  on  the  part  of  the  poor 
fellow  himself  that  thus  disturbed  them.  Ever  eager  to  be 
employed  in  such  slight  services  as  he  could  render,  and  al- 
ways anxious  to  repay  his  benefactors  with  cheerful  and  happy 
looks,  less  friendly  eyes  might  have  seen  in  him  no  cause  for 
any  misgiving.  But  there  were  times,  and  often  too,  when  the 
sunken  eye  was  too  bright,  the  hollow  cheek  too  flushed,  the 
breath  too  thick  and  heavy  in  its  course,  the  frame  too  feeble 
and  exhausted,  to  escape  their  regard  and  notice. 

There  is  a  dread  disease  which  so  prepares  its  victim,  as  it 
were,  for  death  ;  which  so  refines  it  of  its  grosser  aspect,  and 
throws  around  familiar  looks,  unearthly  indications  of  the 
coming  change ;  a  dread  disease,  in  which  the  struggle  be- 
tween soul  and  body  is  so  gradual,  quiet,  and  solemn,  and  the 
result  so  sure,  that  day  by  day,  and  grain  by  grain,  the  mortal 
part  wastes  and  withers  away,  so  that  the  spirit  grows  light 
and  sanguine  with  its  lightening  load,  and,  feeling  immortality 
at  hand,  deems  it  but  a  new  term  of  mortal  life  ;  a  disease  in 
which  death  and  life  are  so  strangely  blended,  that  death  takes 
the  glow  and  hue  of  life,  and  life  the  gaunt  and  grisly  form  of 
death  ;  a  disease  which  medicine  never  cured,  wealth  never 
warded  off,  or  poverty  could  boast  exemption  from  ;  which 
sometimes  moves  in  giant  strides,  and  sometimes  at  a  tardy 
sluggish  pace,  but,  slow  or  quick,  is  ever  sure  and  certain. 

it  was  with  some  faint  reference  in  his  own  mind  to  this 
disorder,  though  he  would  by  no  means  admit  it,  even  to  him- 
self, that  Nicholas  had  already  carried  his  faithful  companion 
to  a  physician  of  great  repute.  There  was  no  cause  for  imme- 
diate alarm,  he  said.  There  were  no  present  symptoms  which 
could  be  deemed  conclusive.  The  constitution  had  been 
greatly  tried  and  injured  in  childhood,  but  still  it  viight  not 
be — and  that  was  all. 

But  he  seemed  to  grow  no  worse,  and,  as  it  was  not  diffi- 
cult to  find  a  reason  for  these  symptoms  of  illness  in  the 
shock  and  agitation  he  had  recently  undergone,  Nicholas 
comforted  himself  with  the  hope  that  his  poor  friend  would  soon 
recover.  This  hope  his  mother  and  sister  shared  with  him  ; 
and  as  the  object  of  their  joint  solicitude  seemed  to  have  no 
uneasiness  or  despondency  for  himself,  but  each  day  answered 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  633 

with  a  quiet  smile  that  he  felt  better  than  he  had  upon  the 
clay  before,  their  fears  abated,  and  the  general  happiness  was 
by  degrees  restored. 

Many  and  many  a  time  in  after  years  did  Nicholas  look 
back  to  this  period  of  his  life,  and  tread  again  the  humble 
quiet  homely  scenes  that  rose  up  as  of  old  before  him.  Many 
and  many  a  time,  in  the  twilight  of  a  sunmier  evening,  or  be- 
side the  flickering  winter's  fire — but  not  so  often  or  so  sadly 
then — would  his  thoughts  wander  back  to  these  old  days,  and 
dwell  with  a  pleasant  sorrow  upon  every  slight  remembrance 
which  they  brought  crowding  home.  The  little  room  in  which 
they  had  so  often  sat  long  after  it  was  dark,  figuring  such 
happy  futures  ;  Kate's  cheerful  voice  and  merry  laugh  ;  how, 
if  she  were  from  home  they  used  to  sit  and  watch  for  her 
return,  scarcely  breaking  silence  but  to  say  how  dull  it  seemed 
without  her  ;  the  glee  with  which  poor  Smike  would  start 
from  the  darkened  corner  where  he  used  to  sit,  and  hurry  to 
admit  her ;  and  the  tears  they  often  saw  upon  his  face,  half 
wondering  to  see  them  too,  and  he  so  pleased  and  happy ; 
every  little  incident,  and  even  slight  words  and  looks  of  those 
old  clays,  little  heeded  then,  but  well  remembered  when  busy 
cares  and  trials  were  quite  forgotten  ;  came  fresh  and  thick 
before  him  many  and  many  a  time,  and,  rustling  above  the 
dusty  growth  of  years,  came  back  green  boughs  of  yesterday. 

But  there  were  other  persons  associated  with  these  recol- 
lections, and  many  changes  came  about  before  they  had  being. 
A  necessary  reflection  for  the  purposes  of  these  adventures, 
which  at  once  subside  into  their  accustomed  train,  and  shun- 
ning all  flighty  anticipations  or  wayward  wanderings,  pursue 
their  steady  and  decorous  course. 

If  the  Brothers  Cheeryble,  as  they  found  Nicholas  worthy 
of  trust  and  confidence,  bestowed  upon  him  every  day  some 
new  and  substantial  mark  of  kindness,  they  were  not  less 
mindful  of  those  who  depended  on  him.  Various  little 
presents  to  Mrs.  Nickleby,  always  of  the  very  things  they 
most  required,  tended  in  no  slight  degree  to  the  improvement 
and  embellishment  of  the  cottage.  Kate's  little  store  of 
trinkets  became  quite  dazzling  ;  and  for  company  !  If  Brother 
Charles  and  Brother  Ned  failed  to  look  in  for  at  least  a  few 
minutes  every  Sunday,  or  one  evening  in  the  week,  there  was 
Mr.  Tim  Linkinwater  (who  had  never  made  half-a-dozen  other 
acquaintances  in  all  his  life,  and  who  took  such  delight  in  his 
new  friends  as  no  words  can  express)  constantly  coming  and 


634 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


going  in  his  evening  walks,  and  stopping  to  rest  ;  while  Mr. 
Frank  Cherryble  happened,  by  some  strange  conjunction  of 
circumstances,  to  be  passing  the  door  on  some  business  or 
other  at  least  three  nights  in  the  week. 

"  He  is  the  most  attentive  young  man  /  ever  saw,  Kate," 
said  Mrs.  Nickleby  to  her  daughter  one  evening,  when  this  last- 
named  gentleman  had  been  the  subject  of  the  worthy  lady's 
eulogium  for  some  time,  and  Kate  had  sat  perfectly  silent. 

"  Attentive,  mama  !  "  rejoined  Kate. 

"  Bless  my  heart,  Kate !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  her 
wonted  suddenness,  "  what  a  color  you  have  got ;  why,  you're 
quite  flushed  ! " 

"Oh,  mama  !  what  strange  things  you  fancy." 

'  It  wasn't  fancy,  Kate,  my  dear,  I'm  certain  of  that," 
returned  her  mother.  "  However,  it's  gone  now  at  any  rate, 
so  it  don't  much  matter  whether  it  was  or  not.  What  was  it 
we  were  talking  about?  Oh  !  Mr.  Frank.  I  never  saw  such 
attention  in  my  life,  never." 

"  Surely  you  are  not  serious,"  returned  Kate,  coloring 
again  ;  and  this  time  beyond  all  dispute. 

"  Not  serious  !  "  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby  ;  "  why  shouldn't 
I  be  serious  ?  Fm  sure  I  never  was  more  serious.  I  will 
say  that  his  politeness  and  attention  to  me  is  one  of  the  most 
becoming,  gratifying,  pleasant  things  I  have  seen  for  a  very 
long  time.  You  don't  often  meet  with  such  behavior  in  young 
men,  and  it  strikes  one  more  when  one  does  meet  with  it." 

"  Oh  !  attention  to  you  mama,"  rejoined  Kate  quickly — 
"oh  yes." 

"  Dear  me,  Kate,"  retorted  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  what  an  ex- 
traordinary girl  you  are.  Was  it  likely  I  should  be  talking  of 
his  attention  to  anybody  else  ?  I  declare  Fm  quite  sorry  to 
think  he  should  be  in  love  with  a  German  lady,  that  I  am." 

"  He  said  very  positively  that  it  was  no  such  thing,  mama," 
returned  Kate.  "  Don't  you  remember  his  saying  so  that  very 
first  night  he  came  here  ?  Besides,"  she  added,  in  a  more 
gentle  tone,  "  why  should  wc  be  sorry  if  it  is  the  case  ?  What 
is  it  to  us,  mama  ?  " 

"  Nothing  to  us,  Kate,  perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  em- 
phatically ;  "  but  something  to  me,  I  confess.  I  like  Fnglish 
people,  thorough  Fnglish  people,  and  not  half  English  and 
half  I  don't  know  what.  I  shall  tell  him  point-blank  ne.\t 
time  he  comes,  that  I  wish  he  would  marry  one  of  his  own 
countrywomen ;  and  see  what  he  says  to  that." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  635 

"  Pray  don't  think  of  such  a  thing,  mama,"  returned  Kate 
hastily  ;"  not  for  the  world.     Consider.     How  very " 

"  Well,  my  dear,  how  very  what  ! "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
opening  her  eyes  in  great  astonishment. 

Before  Kate  had  returned  any  reply,  a  queer  little  double- 
knock  announced  that  Miss  La  Creevy  had  called  to  see 
them  ;  and  when  Miss  La  Creevy  presented  herself,  Mrs. 
Nickleby.  though  strongly  disposed  to  be  argumentative  on 
the  previous  question,  forgot  all  about  it  in  a  gush  of  supposes 
about  the  coach  she  had  come  by  ;  supposing  that  the  man 
who  drove  must  have  been  either  the  man  in  the  shirt-sleeves 
or  the  man  with  the  black-eye  ;  that  whoever  he  was,  he 
hadn't  found  that  parasol  she  left  inside  last  week  ;  that  no 
doubt  they  had  stopped  a  long  while  at  the  Halfway  House, 
coming  down  ;  or  that  perhaps  being  full,  they  had  come 
straight  on  ;  and  lastly,  that  they,  surely,  must  have  passed 
Nicholas  on  the  road. 

"  I  saw  nothing  of  him,"  answered  Miss  La  Creevy;  "but 
I  saw  that  dear  old  soul  Mr.Linkinwater." 

"  Taking  his  evening  walk,  and  coming  on  to  rest  here, 
before  he  turns  back  to  the  city,  I'll  be  bound  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Nicklebv. 

"  1  should  think  he  was,"  returned  Miss  La  Creevy ; 
"especially  as  young  Mr.  Cheer}-ble  was  with  him." 

"  Surely  that  is  no  reason  why  Mr.  Linkinwater  should  be 
coming  here,"  said  Kate. 

"  Why  I  think  it  is,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  For 
a  young  man,  Mr.  Frank  is  not  a  ver}-  great  walker;  and  I 
observe  that  he  generally  falls  tired,  and  requires  a  good  long 
rest,  when  he  has  come  as  far  as  this.  But  where  is  my 
friend  ? "  said  the  little  woman,  looking  about,  after  having 
glanced  slyly  at  Kate.  "  He  has  not  been  run  away  with 
again,  has  he  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  where  is  Mr.  Smike  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  ;  "  he 
was  here  this  instant." 

Upon  further  inquir)-,  it  turned  out,  to  the  good  lady's 
unbounded  astonishment,  that  Smike  had,  that  moment,  gone 
up  stairs  to  bed. 

"W'ell,  now,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "he  is  the  strangest 
creature  !  Last  Tuesday— was  it  Tuesday  .?  Yes,  to  be  sure 
it  was  ;  vou  recollect,  Kate,  my  dear,  the  m^xn  last  time  young 
Mr.  Cheer)-ble  was  here — last  Tuesday  night  he  went  ofT  in 
just   the    same  strange  way  at  the  very  moment  the  knock 


636 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


came  to  the  door.  It  cannot  be  that  he  don't  Hke  company, 
because  he  is  always  fond  of  people  who  are  fond  of  Nicholas, 
and  I  am  sure  young  Mr.  Cheeryble  is.  And  the  strangest 
thing  is,  that  he  does  not  go  to  bed  ;  therefore  it  cannot  be  be- 
cause he  is  tired.  I  know  he  doesn't  go  to  bed  because  my 
room  is  the  next  one,  and  when  I  went  up  stairs  last  Tuesday 
hours  after  him,  I  found  that  he  had  not  even  taken  his  shoes 
off ;  and  he  had  no  candle,  so  he  must  have  sat  moping  in  the 
dark  all  the  time.  Now,  upon  my  word,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
"  when  I  come  to  think  of  it,  that's  very  extraordinary  !  " 

As  the  hearers  did  not  echo  this  sentiment,  but  remained 
profoundly  silent,  either  as  not  knowing  what  to  say,  or  as 
being  unwilling  to  interrupt,  Mrs.  Nickleby  pursued  the  thread 
of  her  discourse  after  her  own  fashion. 

"  I  hope,"  said  that  lady,  "  that  this  unaccountable  con- 
duct may  not  be  the  beginning  of  his  taking  to  his  bed  and 
living  there  all  his  life,  like  the  Thirsty  Woman  of  Tutbury, 
or  the  Cock-lane  Ghost,  or  some  of  those  extraordinary  crea- 
tures. One  of  them  had  some  connection  with  our  family.  I 
forget  without  looking  back  to  some  old  letters  I  have  up 
stairs,  whether  it  was  my  great-grandfather  who  went  to 
school  with  the  Cock-lane  Ghost,  or  the  Thirsty  Woman  of 
Tutbury  who  went  to  school  with  my  grandmother.  Miss  La 
Creevy,  you  know,  of  course.  Which  was  it  that  didn't  mind 
what  the  clergyman  said  ?  The  Cock-lane  Ghost  or  the 
Thirsty  Woman  of  Tutbury  .'"' 

"The  Cock-lane  Ghost,  I  believe." 

"  Then  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  that  it 
was  with  him  my  great-grandfather  went  to  school  ;  for  I  know 
the  master  of  his  school  was  a  dissenter,  and  that  would,  in 
a  great  measure,  account  for  the  Cock-lane  Ghost's  beha\  ing 
in  such  an  improper  manner  to  the  clergyman  when  he  grew 
up.     Ah  !     Train  up  a  Ghost — child,  I  mean .'- 

Any  further  reflections  on  this  fruitful  theme  were  abruptly 
cut  short  by  the  arrival  of  Tim  Linkinwater  and  Mr.  Frank 
Cheeryble  ;  in  the  hurry  of  receiving  whom,  Mrs.  Nickleby 
speedily  lost  sight  of  everything  else. 

"  1  am  so  sorry  Nicholas  is  not  at  home,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby.  .  "  Kate,  my  dear,  you  must  be  both  Nicholas  and 
yourself." 

"  Miss  Nickleby  need  be  but  herself,"  said  Frank. 

"Then  at  all  events  she  shall  press  you  to  stay,"  returned 
Mrs.  Nickleby.     "  Mr.  Linkinwater  says  ten  minutes,  but  I 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  637 

cannot  let  you  go  so  soon  ;  Nicholas  would  be  very  much 
vexed,  I  am  sure.     Kate,  my  dear  !  " 

In  obedience  to  a  great  number  of  nods,  and  winks,  and 
frowns  of  extra  significance,  Kate  added  her  entreaties  that 
the  visitors  would  remain  ;  but  it  was  observed  tliat  she  ad- 
dressed them  exclusively  to  l"im  Linkinwater  ;  and  there  was, 
besides  a  certain  embarrassment  in  her  manner,  which,  al- 
though it  was  as  far  from  impairing  its  graceful  character  as 
the  tinge  it  communicated  to  her  cheek  was  from  diminishing 
her  beauty,  was  obvious  at  a  glance  even  to  Mrs.  Nickleby. 
Not  being  of  a  very  speculative  character,  however,  save  un- 
der circumstances  when  her  speculations  could  be  put  into 
words  and  uttered  aloud,  that  discreet  matron  attributed  the 
emotion  to  the  circumstance  of  her  daughter's  not  happen- 
ing to  have  her  best  frock  on  :  "  though  1  never  saw  her  look 
better,  certainly,"  she  reflected  at  the  same  time.  Having 
settled  the  question  in  this  way,  and  being  most  complacently 
satisfied  that  in  this,  as  in  all  other  instances,  her  conjecture 
could  not  fail  to  be  the  right  one,  Mrs.  Nickleby  dismissed  it 
from  her  thoughts,  and  inwardly  congratulated  herself  on 
being  so  shrewd  and  knowing. 

Nicholas  did  not  come  home  nor  did  Smike  re-appear  \  but 
neither  circumstance,  to  say  the  truth,  had  any  great  effect 
upon  the  little  party,  who  were  all  in  the  best  humor  possible. 
Indeed,  there  sprung  up  quite  a  flirtation  between  Miss  La 
Creevy  and  Tim  Linkinwater,  who  said  a  thousand  jocose  and 
facetious  things,  and  became,  by  degrees,  quite  gallant,  not  to 
say  tender.  Little  Miss  La  Creevy,  on  her  part,  was  in  high 
spirits,  and  rallied  Tim  on  having  remained  a  bachelor  all  his 
life  with  so  much  success,  that  Tim  was  actually  induced  to 
declare,  that  if  he  could  get  anybody  to  have  him  he  didn't 
know  but  what  he  might  change  his  condition  even  yet.  Miss 
La  Creevy  earnestly  recommended  a  lady  she  knew,  who 
would  exactly  suit  Mr.  Linkinwater,  and  had  a  ver)'  comfort- 
able property  of  her  own  ;  but  this  latter  qualification  had 
very  little  effect  upon  Tim,  who  manfully  protested  that  for- 
tune would  be  no  object  with  him,  but  that  true  worth  and 
cheerfulness  of  disposition  were  what  a  man  should  look  for 
in  a  wife,  and  that  if  he  had  these,  he  could  find  money 
enough  for  the  moderate  wants  of  both.  This  avowal  was 
considered  so  honorable  to  Tim,  that  neither  Mrs.  Nickleby 
nor  Miss  La  Creevy  could  suflficiently  extol  it  ;  and  stimulated 
by  their  praises,  Tim  launched  out  into  several  other  declara- 


6,8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

tions  also  manifesting  the  disinterestedness  of  his  heart,  and 
a  great  devotion  to  the  fair  sex :  which  were  received  with  no 
less  approbation.  This  was  done  and  said  with  a  comical 
mixture  of  jest  and  earnest,  and,  leading  to  a  great  amount 
of  laughter,  made  them  very  merry  indeed. 

Kate  was  commonly  the  life  and  soul  of  the  conversation 
at  home ;  but  she  was  more  silent  than  usual  upon  this  oc- 
casion (perhaps  because  Tim  and  Miss  La  Creevy  engrossed 
so  much  of  it),  and  keeping  aloof  from  the  talkers,  sat  at  the 
window  watching  the  shadows  as  the  evening  closed  in,  and 
enjoying  the  quiet  beauty  of  the  night,  which  seemed  to  have 
scarcely  less  attractions  for  Frank,  who  first  lingered  near, 
and  then  sat  down  beside  her.  No  doubt  there  are  a  great 
many  things  to  be  said  appropriate  to  a  summer  evening,  and 
no  doubt  they  are  best  said  in  a  low  voice  as  being  most  suit- 
able to  the  peace  and  serenity  of  the  hour ;  long  pauses,  too, 
at  times,  and  then  an  earnest  word  or  so,  and  then  another 
interval  of  silence  which,  somehow,  does  not  seem  like  si- 
lence either,  and  perhaps  now  and  then  a^  hasty  turning  away 
of  the  head,  or  drooping  of  the  eyes  towards  the  ground,  all 
these  minor  circumstances,  with  a  disinclination  to  have 
candles  introduced  and  a  tendency  to  confuse  hours  with 
minutes,  are  doubtless  mere  influences  of  the  time,  as  many 
lovely  lips  can  clearly  testify.  Neither  was  there  the  slightest 
reason  why  Mrs.  Nickleby  should  have  expressed  surprise 
when,  candles  being  at  length  brought  in,  Kate's  bright  eyes 
were  unable  to  bear  the  light  which  obliged  her  to  avert  her  face, 
and  even  to  leave  the  room  for  some  short  time  ;  because 
when  one  has  sat  in  the  dark  so  long  candles  are  dazzling, 
and  nothing  can  be  more  strictly  natural  than  that  such  results 
should  be  produced,  as  all  well-informed  young  people  know. 
For  that  matter,  old  people  know  it  too,  or  did  know  it  once, 
but  they  forget  these  things  sometimes,  and  more's  the  pity. 

The  good  lady's  surprise,  however,  did  not  end  here.  It 
was  greatly  increased  when  it  was  discovered  that  Kate  had 
not  the  least  appetite  for  supper  ;  a  discovery  so  alarming 
that  there  is  no  knowing  in  what  unaccountable  efforts  of 
oratory  Mrs.  Nickleby's  a'ppreliensions  might  have  been  vent- 
ed, if  the  general  attention  had  not  been  attracted,  at  the  mo- 
ment, by  a  very  strange  and  uncommon  noise,  proceeding,  as 
the  pale  and  trembling  servant  girl  affirmed,  and  as  every- 
body's sense  of  hearing  seemed  to  nffirm  also,  "right  down" 
the  chimney  of  the  adjoining  room. 


-"  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  639 

It  being  quite  plain  to  the  comprehension  of  all  present 
that,  however  extraordinary  and  improbable  it  might  appear, 
the  noise  did  nevertheless  proceed  from  the  chimney  in  ques- 
tion ;  and  the  noise  (wliich  was  a  strange  compound  of  \arious 
shuffling,  sliding,  rumbling,  and  strugglmg  sounds,  all  muffled 
by  the  chimney)  still  continuing,  Frank  Cheeryble  caught  up 
a  candle,  and  Tim  Linkinwater  the  tongs,  and  they  would 
have  very  quickly  ascertained  the  cause  of  this  disturbance 
if  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  not  been  taken  very  faint,  and  declined 
being  left  behind,  on  any  account.  This  produced  a  short  re- 
monstrance, which  terminated  in  their  all  proceeding  to  the 
troubled  chamber  in  a  body,  excepting  only  Miss  La  Creevy, 
who,  as  the  servant-girl  volunteered  a  confession  of  having 
been  subject  to  fits  in  her  infancy,  remained  with  her  to  give 
the  alarm  and  apply  restoratives,  in  case  of  extremity. 

Advancing  to  the  door  of  the  mysterious  apartment,  they 
were  not  a  little  surprised  to  hear  a  human  voice,  chaunting 
with  a  highly  elaborated  expression  of  melancholy,  and  in 
tones  of  suffocation  which  a  human  voice  might  have  pro- 
duced from  under  five  or  six  feather-beds  of  the  best  quality, 
the  once  popular  air  of  "  Has  she  then  failed  in  her  truth,  the 
beautiful  maid  I  adore  !  "  Nor,  on  bursting  into  the  room 
without  demanding  a  parley,  was  their  astonishment  lessened 
by  the  discovery  that  these  romantic  sounds  certainly  pro- 
ceeded from  the  throat  of  some  man  up  the  chimney,  of  whom 
nothing  was  visible  but  a  pair  of  legs,  which  were  dangling 
above  the  grate  ;  apparently  feeling,  with  extreme  anxiety, 
for  ♦"lie  top  bar  whereon  to  effect  a  landing. 

A  sight  so  unusual  and  unbusiness-like  as  this,  completely 
paralyzed  Tim  Linkinwater,  who,  after  one  or  two  gentle 
pinches  at  the  stranger's  ankles,  which  were  productive  of  no 
effect,  stood  clapping  the  tongs  together,  as  if  he  were  sharp- 
ening them  for  another  assault,  and  did  nothing  else. 

"  This  must  be  some  drunken  fellow,"  said  Frank.  "  No 
thief  would  announce  his  presence  thus." 

As  he  said  this,  with  great  indignation,  he  raised  the 
candle  to  obtain  a  better  view  of  the  legs,  and  was  darting 
forward  to  pull  them  down  with  very  little  ceremony,  when 
Mrs.  Nickleby,  clasping  her  hands,  uttered  a  sharp  sound, 
something:  between  a  scream  and  an  exclamation,  and  de- 
manded  to  know  whether  the  mysterious  limbs  were  not  clad 
in  small-clothes  and  gray  worsted  stockings,  or  whether  her 
eyes  had  deceived  her  ? 


640  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"Yes,"  cried  Frank,  looking  a  little  closer.  "Small- 
clothes certainly,  and — and — rough  gray  stockings,  too.  Do 
you  know  him  ma'am  ?  " 

"Kate,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleb}-,  deliberately  sitting 
herself  down  in  a  chair  with  that  sort  of  desperate  resignation 
which  seemed  to  imply  that  now  matters  had  come  to  a  crisis, 
and  all  disguise  was  useless,  "  you  will  have  the  goodness,  my 
love,  to  explain  precisely  how  this  matter  stands.  I  have 
given  him  no  encouragement — none  whatever — not  the  least 
in  the  world.  You  know  that,  my  dear,  perfectly  well.  He 
was  very  respectful,  exceedingly  respectful,  when  he  declared, 
as  you  were  a  witness  to  ;  still  at  the  same  time,  if  I  am  to 
be  persecuted  in  this  way,  if  vegetable  what's-his-names  and 
all  kind  of  garden-stuff  are  to  strew  my  path  out  of  doors, 
and  gentlemen  are  to  come  choking  up  our  chimneys  at  home, 
I  really  don't  know — upon  my  word  I  do  not  know — what  is 
to  become  of  me.  It's  a  very  hard  case — harder  than  any- 
thing I  was  ever  exposed  to,  before  I  married  your  poor  dear 
papn,  though  I  suffered  a  good  deal  of  annoyance  then — but 
that,  of  course,  I  expected,  and  made  up  my  mind  for.  When 
I  was  not  nearly  so  old  as  you,  my  dear,  there  was  a  young 
gentleman  who  sat  next  us  at  church,  who  used,  almost  every 
Sunday,  to  cut  my  name  in  large  letters  in  the  front  of  his 
pew  while  the  sermon  was  going  on.  It  was  gratifying,  of 
course,  naturally  so,  but  still  it  was  an  annoyance,  because  the 
pew  was  in  a  very  conspicuous  place,  and  he  was  several 
times  publicly  taken  out  by  the  beadle  for  doing  it.  But 
that  was  nothing  to  this.  This  is  a  great  deal  worse,  and  a 
great  deal  more  embarrassing.  I  would  rather,  Kate,  my 
dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  great  solemnity,  and  an  effu- 
sion of  tears  :  "  I  would  rather,  I  declare,  have  been  a  pig- 
faced  lady,  than  be  exposed  to  such  a  life  as  this  !  " 

Frank  Cheeryble  and  Tim  Linkinwater  looked,  in  irre- 
pressible astonishment,  first  at  each  other  and  then  at  Kate, 
who  felt  that  some  explanation  was  necessary,  but  who,  be- 
tween her  terror  at  the  apparition  of  the  legs,  her  fear  lest 
their  owner  should  be  smothered,  and  her  anxiety  to  give  the 
least  ridiculous  solution  of  the  mystery  that  it  was  capable  of 
bearing,  w^as  quite  unable  to  utter  a  single  word. 

"  He  gives  me  great  pain,"  continued  Mrs.  Nickleby,  dr}^- 
ing  her  eyes,  "  great  pain  ;  but  don't  hurt  a  hair  of  his  head, 
I  beg.     On  no  account  hurt  a  hair  of  his  head." 

It  would  not,   uncier  existing   circumstances,   have    been 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  641 

quite  so  easy  to  hurt  a  hair  of  the  gentleman's  head  as  Mrs. 
Nickleby  seemed  to  imagine,  in  as  much  as  that  part  of  his 
person  was  some  feet  up  the  chimney,  whicli  \\as  by  no 
means  a  wide  one.  But,  as  all  this  time,  he  had  never  left  off 
singing  about  the  bankruptcy  of  the  beautiful  maid  in  respect 
of  truth,  and  now  began  not  only  to  croak  very  feebly,  but  to 
kick  with  great  violence  as  if  respiration  became  a  task  of 
difficulty,  Frank  Cheeryble,  without  further  hesitation,  pulled 
at  the  shorts  and  worsteds  with  such  heartiness  as  to  bring 
him  floundering  into  the  room  with  greater  precipitation  than 
he  had  quite  calculated  upon. 

"Oh!  yes,  yes,"  said  Kate,  directly  the  whole  figure  of 
this  singular  visitor  appeared  in  this  abrupt  manner.  "  I 
know  who  it  is.  Pray  don't  be  rough  with  him.  Is  he  hurt  ? 
I  hope  not.     Oh,  pray  see  if  he  is  hurt." 

"  He  is  not,  I  assure  you,"  replied  Frank,  handling  the 
object  of  his  surprise,  after  this  appeal,  with  sudden  tender- 
ness and  respect.     "  He  is  not  hurt  in  the  least." 

"  Don't  let  him  come  any  nearer,"  said  Kate,  retiring  as 
far  as  she  could. 

"  No  no,  he  shall  not,"  rejoined  Frank,  "You  see  I  have 
him  secure  here.  But  may  I  ask  you,  what  this  means,  and 
whether  you  expected  this  old  gentleman  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Kate,  "  of  course  not ;  but  he — mama 
does  not  think  so,  I  believe — but  he  is  a  mad  gentleman  who 
has  escaped  from  the  next  house,  and  must  have  found  an 
opportunity  of  secreting  himself  here." 

"  Kate,"  interposed  Mrs.  Nickleby  with  severe  dignity, 
"  I  am  surprised  at  you." 

"  Dear  mama,"  Kate  gently  remonstrated. 

"I  am  surprised  at  you,"  repeated  Mrs.  Nickleby;  "upon 
my  word,  Kate,  I  am  quite  astonished  that  you  should  join 
the  persecutors  of  this  unfortunate  gentleman,  when  you 
know  very  well  that  they  have  the  basest  designs  upon  this 
property,  and  that  that  is  the  whole  secret  of  it.  It  would  be 
much  kinder  of  you,  Kate,  to  ask  Mr.  Linkinwater  or  Mr. 
Cheeryble  to  interfere  in  his  behalf,  and  see  him  righted. 
You  ought  not  to  allow  your  feelings  to  influence  you  ;  it's 
not  right,  very  far  from  it.  What  should  my  feelings  be,  do 
you  suppose  .?  If  anybody  ought  to  be  indignant,  who  is  it } 
I,  of  course,  and  very  properly  so.  Still,  at  the  same  time,  I 
wouldn't  commit  such  an  injustice  for  the  world.  No,"  con- 
tinued   Mrs,    Nickleby,    drawing    herself    up,    and    looking 

41 


642  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY 

another  way  with  a  kind  of  bashful  stateUness  ;  •'  this  gentle- 
man will  understand  me  when  I  tell  him  that  I  repeat  the 
answer  I  gave  him  the  other  day  ;  that  I  always  will  repeat  it, 
though  I  do  believe  him  to  be  sincere  when  I  find  him  placing 
himself  in  such  dreadfi;!  situations  on  my  account ;  and  that 
I  request  him  to  have  the  goodness  to  go  away  directly,  or  it 
will  be  impossible  to  keep  his  behavior  a  secret  from  my  son 
Nicholas.  I  am  obliged  to  him,  very  much  obliged  to  him, 
but  I  cannot  listen  to  his  addresses  for  a  moment.  It's  quite 
impossible." 

While  this  address  was  in  course  of  delivery,  the  old 
gentleman,  with  his  nose  and  cheeks  embellished  with  large 
patches  of  soot,  sat  upon  the  ground  with  his  arms  folded, 
eyeing  the  spectators  in  profound  silence,  and  with  a  very 
majestic  demeanor.  He  did  not  appear  to  take  the  smallest 
notice  of  what  Mrs.  Nickleby  said,  but  when  she  ceased  to 
speak  he  honored  her  with  a  long  stare,  and  inquired  if  she 
had  quite  finished  ? 

"I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  replied  that  lady  modestly 
"I  really  cannot  say  anything  more." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  raising  his  voice, 
"  then  bring  in  the  bottled  lightning,  a  clean  tumbler,  and  a 
corkscrew." 

Nobody  executing  this  order,  the  old  gentleman,  after  a 
short  pause,  raised  his  voice  again,  and  demanded  a  thunder 
sandwich.  This  article  not  being  forthcoming  either,  he  re- 
quested to  be  served  with  a  fricassee  of  boot-tops  and  gold- 
fish sauce,  and  then  laughing  heartily,  gratified  his  hearers 
with  a  very  long,  very  loud,  and  most  melodious  bellow. 

But  still  Mrs.  Nickleby,  in  reply  to  the  significant  looks  of 
all  about  her,  shook  her  head  as  though  to  assure  them  that 
she  saw  nothing  whatever  in  all  this,  unless,  indeed,  it  were  a 
slight  degree  of  eccentricity.  She  might  have  remained  im- 
pressed with  these  opinions  down  to  the  latest  moment  of  her 
life  but  for  a  slight  train  of  circumstances,  which,  trivial  as 
they  were,  altered  the  whole  complexion  of  the  case. 

It  happened  that  Miss  La  Creevy,  finding  her  patient  in 
no  very  threatening  condition,  and  being  strongly  impelled  by 
curiosity  to  see  what  was  going  forward,  bustled  into  the 
room  while  the  old  gentleman  was  in  the  very  act  of  bellow- 
ing. It  happened,  "too,  that  the  instant  the  old  gentleman  saw 
her,  he  stopped  short,  skipped  suddenly  on  his  feet,  and  fell 
to  kissing  his  hand  violently :  a  change  of  demeanor  which 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  643 

almost  terrified  the  little  portrait-painter  out  of  her  senses,  and 
caused  her  to  retreat  behind  Tim  Linkinwater  with  the  utmost 
expedition. 

"  Aha  !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman,  folding  his  hands,  and 
squeezing  them  with  great  force  against  each  other.  "  I  see 
her  now,  I  see  her  now  !  My  love,  my  life,  my  bride,  my 
peerless  beauty.  She  is  come  at  last — at  last — and  all  is  gas 
and  gaiters  !  " 

Mrs.  Nickleby  looked  rather  disconcerted  for  a  moment, 
but  immediately  recovering,  nodded  to  Miss  La  Creevy  and 
the  other  spectators  several  times,  and  frowned,  and  smiled 
gravely ;  giving  them  to  understand  that  she  saw  where  the 
mistake  was,  and  would  set  it  all  to  rights  in  a  minute  or  two. 
"  She  is  come  !  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  laying  his  hand 
upon  his  heart.  "  Cormoran  and  Blunderbore  !  She  is  come  ! 
All  the  wealth  I  have  is  hers  if  she  will  take  me  for  her  slave. 
Where  are  grace,  beauty,  and  blandishments,  like  those.  In 
the  Empress  of  Madagascar  ?  No.  In  the  Queen  of  Dia- 
monds ?  No.  In  Mrs.  Rowland,  who  every  morning  bathes 
in  Kalydor  for  nothing  ?  No.  Melt  all  these  down  into  one, 
with  the  three  graces,  the  nine  Muses,  and  fourteen  biscuit- 
bakers'  daughters  from  Oxford-street,  and  make  a  woman  half 
as  lovely.     Pho  !     I  defy  you." 

After  uttering  this  rhapsody,  the  old  gentleman  snapped 
his  fingers  twenty  or  thirty  times,  and  then  subsided  into  an 
ecstatic  contemplation  of  Miss  La  Creevy's  charms.  This 
affording  Mrs.  Nickleby  a  favorable  opportunity  of  explana- 
tion, shs  went  about  it  straight. 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  the  worthy  lady,  with  a  prefatory 
cough,  "that  it's  a  great  relief,  under  such  trying  circum- 
stances as  these,  to  "have  anybody  else  mistaken  for  me — a 
very  great  relief  ;  and  it's  a  circumstance  that  never  occurred 
before,  although  I  have  several  times  been  mistaken  for  my 
daughter  Kate.  I  have  no  doubt  the  people  were  very  fool- 
ish, and  perhaps  ought  to  have  known  better,  but  still  they 
did  take  me  for  her,  and  of  course  that  was  no  fault  of  mine, 
and  it  would  very  hard  indeed  if  I  was  to  be  made  responsi- 
ble for  it.  However,  in  this  instance,  of  course,  I  must  feel 
that  I  should  do  exceedingly  wrong  if  I  suffered  anybody — 
especially  anybody  that  I  "am  under  great  obligations  to— to 
be  made  uncomfortable  on  my  account.  And  therefore  I  think 
it  my  duty  to  tell  that  gentleman  that  he  is  mistaken,  that  1 
am  the  lady  who  he  was  told  by  some  impertinent  person  was 


644 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


niece  to  the  Council  of  Paving-stones,  and  that  I  do  beg  and 
entreat  of  him  to  go  quietly  away,  if  it's  only  for,"  here 
here  Mrs.  Nickleby  simpered  and  hesitated,  "  for  my  sake." 

It  might  have  been  expected  that  the  old  gentleman  would 
have  been  penetrated  to  the  heart  by  the  delicacy  and  con- 
descension of  this  appeal,  and  that  he  would  at  least  have 
returned  a  courteous  and  suitable  reply.  What,  then,  was  the 
shock  which  Mrs.  Nickleby  received,  when,  accosting  her  in 
the  most  unmistakable  manner,  he  replied  in  a  loud  and 
sonorous  voice  :  "  Avaunt !  Cat !  " 

"  Sir  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Nickleby,  in  a  faint  tone. 

"  Cat !  "  repeated  the  old  gentleman.  "  Puss,  Kit,  Tit, 
Grimalkin,  Tabby,  Brindle  !  Whoosh  ! "  With  which  last 
sound,  uttered  in  a  hissing  manner  between  his  teeth,  the  old 
gentleman  swung  his  arms  violently  round  and  round,  and  at 
the  same  time  alternately  advanced  on  Mrs.  Nickleby,  and  re- 
treated from  her,  in  that  species  of  savage  dance  with  whicli 
boys  on  market-days  may  be  seen  to  frighten  pigs,  sheep,  and 
other  animals,  when  they  give  out  obstinate  indications  of 
turning  down  a  wrong  street. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  wasted  no  words,  but  uttered  an  exclama- 
tion of  horror  and  surprise,  and  immediately  fainted  away. 

"  I'll  attend  to  mama,"  said  Kate  hastily ;  "  I  am  not  at  all 
frightened.     But  pray  take  him  away  ;  pray  take  him  away  !  " 

Frank  was  not  at  all  confident  of  his  power  of  complying 
with  this  request,  until  he  bethought  himself  of  the  stratagem 
of  sending  Miss  La  Creevy  on  a  few  paces  in  advance,  and 
urging  the  old  gentleman  to  follow  her.  It  succeeded  to  a 
miracle ;  and  he  went  away  in  a  rapture  of  admiration, 
strongly  guarded  by  Tim  Linkinwater  on  one  side,  and  Frank 
himself  on  the  other. 

"  Kate,"  murmured  Mrs.  Nickleby,  reviving  when  the 
coast  was  clear,  "  is  he  gone  ?  " 

She  was  assured  that  he  was. 

"I  shall  never  forgive  myself,  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby; 
"'  never  !  That  gentleman  has  lost  his  senses,  and  /  am  the 
unhappy  cause." 

"  You  the  cause  !  "  said  Kate,  greatly  astonished. 

"I,  my  love,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  a  desperate 
calmness.  "  You  saw  what  he  was  the  other  day  ;  you  see 
what  he  is  now.  I  told  your  brother,  weeks  and  weeks  ago, 
Kate,  that  I  hoped  a  disappointment  might  not  be  too  much 
for  him.     You  see  what  a  wreck  he  is.     Making  allowance  for 


NICHOLAS  NICA'LEB  V.  645 

his  being  a  little  flighty,  you  know  how  rationally  and  sensibly 
and  honorably  he  talked,  when  we  saw  him  in  the  garden. 
You  have  heard  the  dreadful  nonsense  he  has  been  guilty  of, 
this  night,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  has  gone  on  with  that 
poor  unfortunate  little  old  maid.  Can  anybody  doubt  how 
all  this  has  been  brought  about  !  " 

"  I  should  scarcely  think  they  could,"  said  Kate  mildly. 

"/should  scarcely  think  so,  either,"  rejoined  her  mother. 
"  Well !  if  I  am  the  unfortunate  cause  of  this,  I  have  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  am  not  to  blame.  I  told  Nich- 
olas. I  said  to  him,  '  Nicholas,  my  dear,  we  should  be  very 
careful  how  we  proceed.'  He  would  scarcely  hear  me.  If 
the  matter  had  only  been  properly  taken  up  at  first,  as  I 
wished  it  to  be  !  But  you  are  both  of  you  so  like  your  poor 
papa.  Howe^'er,  I  have  wj'  consolation,  and  that  should  be 
enough  for  me  !  " 

Washing  her  hands,  thus,  of  all  responsibility  under  this 
head,  past,  present,  or  to  come,  Mrs.  Nickleby  kindly  added 
that  she  hoped  her  children  might  never  have  greater  cause  to 
reproach  themselves  than  she  had,  and  prepared  herself  to  re- 
ceive the  escort,  which  soon  returned  with  the  intelligence 
that  the  old  gentleman  was  safely  housed,  and  that  they 
found  his  custodians,  who  had  been  making  merry  with  some 
friends,  wholly  ignorant  of  his  absence. 

Quiet  being  again  restored,  a  delicious  half  hour — so 
Frank  called  it,  in  the  course  of  subsequent  conversation  with 
Tim  Linkinwater  as  they  were  walking  home — was  spent  in 
conversation,  and  Tim's  watch  at  length  apprising  him  that  it 
was  high  time  to  depart,  the  ladies  were  left  alone,  though 
not  without  many  offers  on  the  part  of  Frank  to  remain  until 
Nicholas  arrived,  no  matter  what  hour  of  the  night  it  might 
,be,  if,  after  the  late  neighborly  irruption,  they  entertained  the 
least  fear  of  being  left  to  themselves.  As  their  freedom  from 
all  further  apprehension,  however,  left  no  pretext  for  his  in- 
sisting on  mounting  guard,  he  was  obliged  to  abandon  the 
citadel,  and  to  retire  with  the  trusty  Tim. 

Nearly  three  hours  of  silence  passed  away.  Kate  blushed 
to  find,  when  Nicholas  returned,  how  long  she  had  been  sit- 
ting alone,  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts. 

"  I  really  thought  it  had  not  been  half  an  hour,"  she  said. 

"  They  must  have  been  pleasant  thoughts,  Kate,"  rejoined 
Nicholas  gayly,  "  to  make  time  pass  away  like  that.  What 
were  they  now  ?  " 


646  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

Kate  was  confused ;  she  toyed  with  some  trifle  on  the 
table,  looked  up  and  smiled,  looked  down  and  dropped  a  tear. 
"  Why,  Kate,"  said  Nicholas,  drawing  his  sister  towards 
him  and  kissing  her,  "  let  me  see  your  face.  No  ?  Ah  !  that 
was  but  a  glimpse  ;  that's  scarcely  fair.  A  longer  look  than 
that,  Kate.     Come — and  I'll  read  your  thoughts  for  you." 

There  was  something  in  this  proposition,  albeit  it  was  said 
without  the  slightest  consciousness  or  application,  which  so 
alarmed  his  sister,  that  Nicholas  laughingly  changed  the  sub- 
ject to  domestic  matters,  and  thus  gathered,  by  degrees,  as 
they  left  the  room  and  went  up  stairs  together,  how  lonely 
Smike  had  been  all  night — and  by  very  slow  degrees,  too  ; 
for  on  this  subject  also,  Kate  seemed  to  speak  with  some  re- 
luctance. 

"  Poor  fellow,"  said  Nicholas,  tapping  gently  at  his  door, 
"  what  can  be  the  cause  of  all  this  .' " 

Kate  was  hanging  on  her  brother's  arm.  The  door  being 
quickly  opened,  she  had  not  time  to  disengage  herself,  before 
Smike,  very  pale  and  haggard,  and  completely  dressed,  con- 
fronted them. 

"  And  have  you  not  been  to  bed  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 
"  N — n — no,"  was  the  reply. 

Nicholas  gently  detained  his  sister,  who  made  an  effort  to 
retire  ;  and  asked,  "  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  sleep,"  said  Smike,  grasping  the  hand  which 
his  friend  extended  to  him. 

"  You  are  not  well  ?  "  rejoined  Nicholas. 
"  I  am  better,  indeed.     A  great  deal  better,"  said  Smike 
quickly. 

"  Then  why  do  you  give  way  to  these  fits  of  melancholy  ?  " 
inquired  Nicholas,  in  his  kindest  manner  ;  "  or  why  not  tell 
us  the  cause  .-*     You  grow  a  different  creature,  Smike."  , 

"1  do  ;  I  know  I  do,"  he  replied.  "I  will  tell  you  the 
reason  one  day,  but  not  now.  I  hate  myself  for  this  ;  you  are 
all  so  good  and  kind.  But  I  cannot  help  it.  My  heart  is  very 
full ;  you  do  not  know  how  full  it  is." 

He  wrung  Nicholas's  hand  before  he  released  it  ;  and, 
glancing,  for  a  moment,  at  the  brother  and  sister  as  they  stood 
together,  as  if  there  were  something  in  their  strong  affection 
which  touched  him  deeply,  withdrew  into  his  chamber,  and 
was  soon  the  only  watcher  under  that  quiet  roof. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  647 

CHAPTER   L. 

INVOLVES    A    SERIOUS    CATASTROPHE. 

The  little  race-course  of  Hampton  was  in  the  full  tide  and 
height  of  its  gayety  ;  the  day  as  dazzling  as  day  could  be  ;  the 
sun  high  in  the  cloudless  sky,  and  shining  in  its  fullest  si^len- 
dor.  Every  gaudy  color  that  fluttered  in  the  air  from  carriage 
seat  and  garish  tent  top,  shone  out  in  its  gaudiest  hues.  Old 
dingy  flags  grew  new  again,  faded  gilding  was  re-burnished, 
stained  rotten  canvas  looked  a  snowy  white,  the  very  beggars' 
rags  were  freshened  up,  and  sentiment  quite  forgot  its  charity 
in  its  fervent  admiration  of  poverty  so  picturesque. 

It  was  one  of  those  scenes  of  life  and  animation,  caught 
in  its  very  brightest  and  freshest  moments,  which  can  scarcely 
fail  to  please  ;  for,  if  the  eye  be  tired  of  show  and  glare,  or 
the  ear  be  weary  with  a  ceaseless  round  of  noise,  the  one  may 
repose,  turn  almost  where  it  will,  on  eager,  happy,  and  expec- 
tant faces,  and  the  other  deaden  all  consciousness  of  more 
annoying  sounds  in  those  of  mirth  and  exhilaration.  Even 
the  sunburnt  faces  of  gipsy  children,  half  naked  though  they 
be,  suggest  a  drop  of  comfort.  It  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  see 
that  the  sun  has  been  there  ;  to  know  that  the  air  and  light 
are  on  them  every  day  ;  to  feel  that  they  are  children,  and 
lead  children's  lives  ;  that  if  their  pillows  be  damp,  it  is  with 
the  dews  of  Heaven,  and  not  with  tears  :  that  the  limbs  of 
their  girls  are  free,  and  that  they  are  not  crippled  by  distor- 
tions, imposing  an  unnatural  and  horrible  penance  upon  their 
sex  ;  that  their  lives  are  spent,  from  day  to  day,  at  least  among 
the  waving  trees,  and  not  in  the  midst  of  dreadful  engines 
which  make  young  children  old  before  they  know  what  child- 
hood is,  and  give  them  the  exhaustion  and  infirmity  of  age, 
without,  like  age,  the  privilege  to  die.  God  send  that  old 
nursery  tales  were  true,  and  that  gipsies  stole  such  children  by 
the  score  !    ■ 

The  great  race  of  the  day  had  just  been  run  ;  and  the  close 
lines  of  people,  on  either  side  of  the  course,  suddenly  break- 
ing up  and  pouring  into  it,  imparted  a  new  liveliness  to  the 
scene,  which  was  again  all  busy  movement.  Some,  hurried 
eagerly  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  winning  horse  ;  others  darted 


648  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

to  and  fro,  searching,  no  less  eagerly,  for  the  carriage  they 
had  left  in  quest  of  better  stations.  Here,  a  little  knot 
gathered  round  a  pea  and  thimble  table  to  watch  the  plucking 
of  some  unhappy  greenhorn  ;  and  there,  another  proprietor 
with  his  confederates  in  various  disguises — one  man  in  specta- 
cles, another,  with  an  eye-glass  and  a  stylish  hat  ;  a  third, 
dressed  as  a  farmer  well  to  do  in  the  world,  with  his  top-coat 
over  his  arm  and  his  flash  notes  in  a  large  leathern  pocket- 
book  ;  and  all  with  heavy-handled  whips  to  represent  most  in- 
nocent country  fellows  who  had  trotted  there  on  horseback — 
sought,  by  loud  and  noisy  talk  and  pretended  play,  to  entrap 
some  unwary  customer,  while  the  gentlemen  confederates  (of 
more  villanous  aspect  still,  in  clean  linen  and  good  clothes,) 
betrayed  their  close  interest  in  the  concern  by  the  anxious  fur- 
tive glance  they  cast  on  all  new  comers.  These  would  be 
hanging  on  the  outskirts  of  a  wide  circle  of  people  assembled 
round  some  itinerant  juggler,  opposed,  in  his  turn,  by  a  noisy 
band  of  music,  or  the  classic  game  of  "  Ring  the  Bull,"  while 
ventriloquists  holding  dialogues  with  wooden  dolls,  and  for- 
tune-telling women  smothering  the  cries  of  real  babies,  divided 
with  them,  and  many  more,  the  general  attention  of  the  com- 
pany. Drinking-tents  were  full,  glasses  began  to  clink  in 
carriages,  hampers  to  be  unpacked,  tempting  provisions  to  be 
set  forth,  knives  and  forks  to  rattle,  champagne  corks  to  fly, 
eyes  to  brighten  that  were  not  dull  before,  and  pickpockets  to 
count  their  gains  during  the  last  heat.  The  attention  so  re- 
cently strained  on  one  object  of  interest,  was  now  divided 
among  a  hundred  ;  and,  look  where  you  would,  there  was  a 
motley  assemblage  of  feasting,  laughing,  talking,  begging, 
gambling,  and  mummery. 

Of  the  gambling-booths  there  was  a  plentiful  show, 
flourishing  in  all  the  splendor  of  carpeted  ground,  striped 
hangings,  crimson  cloth,  pinnacled  roofs,  geranium  pots,  and 
livery  servants.  There  were  the  Stranger's  club-house,  the 
Athenasum  club-house,  the  Hampton  club-house,  the  Saint 
James's  club-house,  half-a-mile  of  club-houses,  to  play  ///  ,• 
and  there  were  rouge-et-noir,  French  hazard,  and  other  games, 
to  play  at.  It  is  into  one  of  these  booths  that  our  story  takes 
its  way. 

Fitted  up  with  three  tables  for  the  purposes  of  play,  and 
crowded  with  players  and  lookers  on,  it  was,  although  the 
largest  place  of  the  kind  upon  the  course,  intensely  hot, 
notwithstanding  that  a  portion  of  the  canvas  roof  was  rolled 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  649 

back  to  admit  more  air,  and  there  were  two  doors  for  a  free 
passage  in  and  out.  Excepting  one  or  two  men  who,  each 
with  a  long  roll  of  half-crowns  chequered  with  a  few  stray 
sovereigns,  in  his  left  hand,  staked  their  money  at  every  roll 
of  the  ball  with  a  business-like  sedateness  which  showed  that 
they  were  used  to  it,  and  had  been  playing  all  day,  and  most 
probably  all  the  day  before,  there  was  no  very  distinctive 
character  about  the  players.  They  were  chiefly  young  men, 
apparently  attracted  by  curiosity,  or  staking  small  sums  as 
part  of  the  amusement  of  the  day,  with  no  very  great  interest 
m  winning  or  losing.  There  were  two  persons  present,  how- 
ever, who,  as  peculiarly  good  specimens  of  a  class,  deserve  a 
passing  notice. 

Of  these,  one  was  a  man  of  six  or  eight  and  fifty,  who  sat 
on  a  chair  near  one  of  the  entrances  of  the  booth,  with  his 
hands  folded  on  the  top  of  his  stick,  and  his  chin  appearing 
above  them.  He  was  a  tall,  fat,  long-bodied  man,  buttoned 
up  to  the  throat  in  a  light  green  coat,  which  made  his  body 
look  still  longer  than  it  was.  He  wore,  besides,  drab  breeches 
and  gaiters,  a  white  neckerchief,  and  a  broad-brimmed  white 
hat.  Amid  all  the  buzzing  noise  of  the  games,  and  the  per- 
petual passing  in  and  out  of  people,  he  seemed  perfectly  calm 
and  abstracted,  without  the  smallest  particle  of  excitement  in 
his  composition.  He  exhibited  no  indication  of  weariness, 
nor,  to  a  casual  obser^^er,  of  interest  either.  There  he  sat, 
quite  still  and  collected.  Sometimes,  but  very  rarely,  he 
nodded  to  some  passing  face,  or  beckoned  to  a  waiter  to  obey 
a  call  from  one  of  the  tables.  The  next  instant  he  subsided 
into  his  old  state.  He  might  have  been  some  profoundly 
deaf  old  gentleman,  who  had  come  in  to  take  a  rest,  or  he 
might  have  been  patiently  waiting  for  a  friend,  without  the 
least  consciousness  of  anybody's  presence,  or  he  might  have 
been  fixed  in  a  trance,  or  under  the  influence  of  opium. 
People  turned  round  and  looked  at  him  ;  he  made  no  gesture, 
caught  nobody's  eye,  let  them  pass  away,  and  others  come  on 
and  be  succeeded  by  others,  and  took  no  notice.  When  he 
did  move,  it  seemed  wonderful  how  he  could  have  seen  any- 
thing to  occasion  it.  And  so,  in  truth,  it  was.  But  there  was 
not  a  face  that  passed  in  or  out,  which  this  man  failed  to  see ; 
not  a  gesture  at  any  one  of  the  three  tables  that  was  lost 
upon  him  ;  not  a  word,  spoken  by  the  bankers,  but  reached 
his  ear ;  not  a  winner  or  loser  he  could  not  have  marked. 
And  he  was  the  proprietor  of  the  place. 


650  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

The  other  presided  over  the  rouge-et-noir  table.  He  was  • 
probably  some  ten  years  younger,  and  was  a  plump,  paunchy, 
sturdy-looking  fellow,  with  his  underlip  a  little  pursed,  from  a 
habit  of  counting  money  inwardly  as  he  paid  it,  but  with  no 
decidedly  bad  expression  in  his  face,  which  was  rather  an 
honest  and  jolly  one  than  otherwise.  He  wore  no  coat,  the 
weather  being  hot,  and  stood  behind  the  table  with  a  huge 
mound  of  crowns  and  half  crowns  before  him,  and  a  cash-box 
for  notes.  This  game  was  constantly  playing.  Perhaps 
twenty  people  would  be  staking  at  the  same  time.  This  man 
had  to  roll  the  ball,  to  watch  the  stakes  as  they  were  laid 
down,  to  gather  them  off  the  color  which  lost,  to  pay  those 
who  won,  to  do  it  all  with  the  utmost  despatch,  to  roll  the 
ball  again,  and  to  keep  this  game  perpetually  alive.  He  did 
it  all  with  a  rapidity  absolutely  marvellous  ;  never  hesitating, 
never  making  a  mistake,  never  stopping,  and  never  ceasing  to 
repeat  such  unconnected  phrases  as  the  following,  which, 
partly  from  habit,  and  partly  to  have  something  appropriate 
and  business-like  to  say,  he  constantly  poured  out  with  the 
same  monotonous  emphasis,  and  in  nearly  the  same  order,  all 
day  long : 

"  Rooge-a-nore  from  Paris  !  Gentlemen,  make  your  game 
and  back  your  own  opinions — any  time  while  the  ball  rolls — 
rooge-a-nore  from  Paris,  gentlemen,  it's  a  French  game, 
gentlemen,  I  brought  it  over  myself,  I  did  indeed ! — Rooge-a- 
nore  from  Paris — black  wins — black — stop  a  minute,  sir,  and 
I'll  pay  you  directly — two  there,  half  a  pound  there,  three 
there — and  one  there — gentlemen,  the  ball's  a  rolling — any 
time,  sir,  while  the  ball  rolls  ! — The  beauty  of  this  game  is, 
that  you  can  double  your  stakes  or  put  down  your  money, 
gentlemen,  any  time  while  the  ball  rolls — black  again — 
black  wins — I  never  saw  such  a  thing — I  never  did,  in  all  my 
life,  upon  my  word  I  never  did  ;  if  any  gentleman  had  been 
backing  the  black  in  the  last  five  minutes  he  must  have  won 
five  and  forty  pound  in  four  rolls  of  the  ball,  he  must  indeed. 
Gentlemen,  we've  port,  sherry,  cigars,  and  most  excellent 
champagne.  Here,  wai-ter,  bring  a  bottle  of  champagne,  and 
let's  have  a  dozen  or  fifteen  cigars  here — and  let's  be  com- 
fortable, gentlemen — and  bring  some  clean  glasses — any  time 
while  the  ball  rolls  ! — I  lost  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven 
pound  yesterday,  gentlemen,  at  one  roll  of  the  ball,  I  did 
indeed  ! — how  do  you  do,  sir  "  (recognizing  some  knowing 
gentleman  without  any  halt  or  change  of  voice,  and  giving  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  65 1 

wink  so  slight  that  it  seems  an  accident),  "  will  you  take  a 
glass  of  sherty,  sir — here,  wai-ter  !  bring  a  clean  glass,  arid 
hand  the  sherry  to  this  gentleman — and  hand  it  round,  will 
you,  waiter — this  is  the  rooge-a-nore  from  Paris,  gentlemen — 
any  time  while  the  ball  rolls  ! — gentlemen,  make  your  game, 
and  back  your  own  opinions — it's  the  rooge-a-nore  from  Paris 
— quite  a  new  game,  I  brought  it  over  myself,  I  did  indeed — 
gentlemen,  the  ball's  a  rolling !  " 

This  officer  was  busily  plying  his  vocation  when  half-a- 
dozen  persons  sauntered  through  the  booth,  to  whom,  but 
without  stopping  either  in  his  speech  or  \vork,  he  bowed 
respectfully ;  at  the  same  time,  directing,  by  a  look,  the 
attention  of  a  man  beside  him  to  the  tallest  figure  in  the 
group,  in  recognition  of  whom  the  proprietor  pulled  off  his 
hat.  This  was  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk,  with  whom  were  his 
friend  and  pupil,  and  a  small  train  of  gentlemanly-dressed 
men,  of  characters  more  doubtful  than  obscure. 

The  proprietor,  in  a  low  voice,  bade  Sir  Mulberry  good- 
day.  Sir  Mulberry,  in  the  same  tone,  bade  the  proprietor  go 
to  the  devil,  and  turned  to  speak  with  his  friends. 

There  was  evidendy  an  irritable  consciousness  about  him 
that  he  was  an  object  of  curiosity,  on  this  first  occasion  of 
showing  himself  in  public  after  the  accident  that  had  befallen 
him  ;  and  it  was  easy  to  perceive  that  he  appeared  on  the 
race-course,  that  day,  more  in  the  hope  of  meeting  wdth  a 
great  many  people  who  knew  him,  and  so  getting  over  as 
much  as  possible  of  the  annoyance  at  once,  than  with  any 
purpose  of  enjoying  the  sport.  There  yet  remained  a  slight 
scar  on  his  face,  and  whenever  he  was  recognized,  as  he  was 
almost  every  minute  by  people  sauntering  in  and  out,  he  made 
a  restless  effort  to  conceal  it  with  his  gloves  ;  showing  how 
keenly  he  felt  the  disgrace  he  had  undergone. 

"Ah!  Hawk,"  said  one  very  sprucely  dressed  personage 
in  a  Newmarket  coat,  a  choice  neckerchief,  and  all  other 
accessories  of  the  most  unexceptionable  kind.  "  How  d'ye 
do,  old  fellow  ?  " 

This  was  a  rival  trainer  of  young  noblemen  and  gentlemen, 
and  the  person  of  all  others  whom  Sir  Mulberry  most  hated 
and  dreaded  to  meet.  They  shook  hands  with  excessive 
cordiality. 

"  And  how  are  you  now,  old  fellow,  hey  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,  quite  well,"  said  Sir  Mulberry. 

"  That's  right,"  said  the  other.     "  How  d'ye  do,  Lord  Fred- 


652 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


erick  ?     He's  a  little  pulled  down,  our  friend  here.     Rather 
out  of  condition  still,  hey  ?  " 

It  should  be  observed  that  the  gentleman  had  very  white 
teeth,  and  that  when  there  was  no  excuse  for  laughing,  he 
generally  finished  with  the  same  monosyllable,  which  he 
uttered  so  as  to  display  them. 

"  He's  in  very  good  condition  ;  there's  nothing  the  matter 
with  him,"  said  the  young  man  carelessly. 

"  Upon  my  soul  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  rejoined  the  other. 
"  Have  you  just  returned  from  Brussels  ? " 

"  We  only  reached  town  late  last  night,"  said  Lord  Fred- 
erick. Sir  Mulberry  turned  away  to  speak  to  one  of  his  own 
party,  and  feigned  not  to  hear. 

"  Now,  upon  my  life,"  said  the  friend,  affecting  to  speak 
in  a  whisper,  "it's  an  uncommonly  bold  and  game  thing  in 
Hawk  to  show  himself  so  soon.  I  say  it  advisedly  ;  there's  a 
vast  deal  of  courage  in  it.  You  see  he  has  just  rusticated 
long  enough  to  excite  curiosity,  and  not  long  enough  for  men 
to  have  forgotten  that  deuced  unpleasant — by  the  bye — you 
know  the  rights  of  the  affair,  of  course  ?  Why  did  you  never 
give  those  confounded  papers  the  lie  ?  I  seldom  read  the 
papers,  but  I  looked  in  the  papers  for  that,  and  may  I  be — " 

"  Look  in  the  papers,"  interrupted  Sir  Mulberry,  turning 
suddenly  round,  "to-morrow — no,  next  day." 

"  Upon  my  life,  my  dear  fellow,  I  seldom  or  never  read 
the  papers,"  said  the  other,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  but  I 
will,  at  your  recommendation.     What  shall  I  look  for  ?" 

"Good-day,"  said  Sir  Mulberry,  turning  abruptly  on  his 
heel,  and  drawing  his  pupil  with  him.  Falling,  again,  into  the 
loitering  careless  pace  at  which  they  had  entered,  they 
lounged  out,  arm  in  arm. 

"  I  won't  give  him  a  case  of  murder  to  read,"  muttered 
Sir  Mulberry,  with  an  oath  ;  "  but  it  shall  be  something  very 
near  it,  if  whip-cord  cuts  and  bludgeons  bruise." 

His  companion  said  nothing,  but  there  was  something  in 
his  manner  which  galled  Sir  Mulberry  to  add,  with  nearly  as 
much  ferocity  as  if  his  friend  had  been  Nicholas  himself : 

"  I  sent  Jenkins  to  old  Nickleby  before  eight  o'clock  this 
morning.  He's  a  stanch  one  ;  he  was  back  with  me  before 
the  messenger.  I  had  it  a]l  from  him  in  the  first  five  minutes. 
I  know  where  thiSlTOund  is  to  be  met  with  ;  time  and  place 
both.  But  there's  no  need  to  talk  ;  to-morrow  will  soon  be 
here." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


Hz 


"  And  wha-at's  to  be  done  to-morrow  ?  "  inquired  Lord 
Frederick. 

Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  honored  him  with  an  angry  glance, 
but  condescended  to  return  no  verbal  answer  to  the  inquiry. 
Both  walked  sullenly  on,  as  though  their  thoughts  were  busily 
occupied,  until  they  were  quite  clear  of  the  crowd,  and  almost 
alone,  when  Sir  Mulberry  wheeled  round  to  return. 

"  Stop,"  said  his  companion,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you  in 
earnest.     Don't  turn  back.     Let  us  walk  here  a  few  minutes." 

"  What  have  you  to  say  to  me,  that  you  could  not  say 
yonder  as  well  as  here  ?  "  returned  his  Mentor,  disengaging 
his  arm. 

"  Hawk,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  tell  me  ;  I  must  know." 

"  Must  know,"  interrupted  the  other  disdainfully.  "  Whew  ! 
Go  on.  If  you  must  know,  of  course  there's  no  escape  for 
me.     Must  know  !  " 

"  Must  ask  then,"  returned  Lord  Frederick,  and  must  press 
you  for  a  plain  and  straightforward  answer.  Is  what  you 
have  just  said,  only  a  mere  whim  of  the  moment,  occasioned 
by  your  being  out  of  humor  and  irritated,  or  is  it  your  serious 
intention,  and  one  that  you  have  actually  contemplated  ?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  remember  what  passed  on  the  subject 
one  night,  when  I  was  laid  up  with  a  broken  limb  ?  "  said  Sir 
Mulberry,  with  a  sneer, 

"Perfectly  well." 

"  Then  take  that  for  an  answer,  in  the  devil's  name,"  re- 
plied Sir  Mulberry,  "  and  ask  me  for  no  other." 

Such  was  the  ascendancy  he  had  acquired  over  his  dupe, 
and  such  the  latter's  general  habit  of  submission,  that,  for  the 
moment,  the  young  man  seemed  half  afraid  to  pursue  the  sub- 
ject. He  soon  overcame  this  feeling,  however,  if  it  had  re- 
strained him  at  all,  and  retorted  angrily : 

"  If  I  remember  what  passed  at  the  time  you  speak  of,  I 
expressed  a  strong  opinion  on  this  subject,  and  said  that,  with 
my  knowledge  or  consent,  you  never  should  do  what  you 
threaten  now." 

"  Will  you  prevent  me .''  ■'  asked  Sir  Mulberry,  with  a 
laugh. 

"  Ye-es,  if  I  can  ; "  returned  the  other,  promptly. 

"  A  very  proper  saving  clause,  that  last,"  said  Sir  Mul- 
berry ;  "  and  one  you  stand  in  need  of.  Look  to  your  own 
business,  and  leave  me  to  look  to  mine." 

"This  is  mine,"  retorted    Lord  Frederick.     "I   make  it 


654 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


mine  ;  I  will  make  it  mine.  It's  mine  already.  I'm  more 
compromised  than  I  should  be,  as  it  is." 

"  Do  as  you  please  and  what  you  please,  for  yourself," 
said  Sir  Mulberry,  affecting  an  easy  good  humor.  "  Surely  that 
must  content  you  !  Do  nothing  for  me  ;  that's  all.  I  advise  no 
man  to  interfere  in  proceedings  that  I  choose  to  take.  I  am 
sure  you  know  me  better  than  to  do  so.  The  fact  is,  I  see,  you 
mean  to  offer  me  advice.  It  is  well  meant,  I  have  no  doubt, 
but  I  reject  it.  Now,  if  you  please,  we  will  return  to  the  car- 
riage. I  find  no  entertainment  here,  but  quite  the  reverse. 
If  we  prolong  this  conversation  we  might  quarrel,  which  would 
be  no  proof  of  wisdom  in  either  you  or  me." 

With  this  rejoinder,  and  waiting  for  no  further  discussion, 
Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  yawned,  and  very  leisurely  turned  back. 

There  was  not  a  little  tact  and  knowledge  of  the  young 
lord's  disposition  in  this  mode  of  treating  him.  Sir  Mulberry 
clearly  saw  that  if  his  dominion  were  to  last,  it  must  be  estab- 
lished now.  He  knew  that  the  moment  he  became  violent, 
the  young  man  would  become  violent  too.  He  had,  many 
times,  been  enabled  to  strengthen  his  influence,  when  any  cir- 
cumstance had  occurred  to  weaken  it,  by  adopting  this  cool 
and  laconic  style  ;  and  he  trusted  to  it  now,  with  very  little 
doubt  of  its  entire  success. 

But  while  he  did  this  and  wore  the  most  careless  and 
indifferent  deportment  that  his  practised  arts  enabled  him  to 
assume,  he  inwardly  resolved,  not  only  to  visit  all  the  morti- 
fication of  being  compelled  to  suppress  his  feelings,  with  ad- 
ditional severity  upon  Nicholas,  but  also  to  make  the  young 
lord  pay  dearly  for  it,  one  day,  in  some  shape  or  other.  So 
long  as  he  had  been  a  passive  instrument  in  his  hands,  Sir 
Mulberry  had  regarded  him  with  no  other  feeling  than  con- 
tempt ;  but,  now  that  he  presumed  to  avow  opinions  in  oppo- 
sition to  his,  and  even  to  turn  upon  him  with  a  lofty  tone  and 
an  air  of  superiority,  he  began  to  hate  him.  Conscious  that,  in 
the  vilest  and  most  worthless  sense  of  the  term,  he  was  de- 
pendent upon  the  weak  young  lord.  Sir  Mulberry  could  the 
less  brook  humiliation  at  his  hands  ;  and  when  he  began  to 
dislike  him  he  measured  his  dislike — as  men  often  do — by  the 
extent  of  the  injuries  he  had  inflicted  upon  its  object.  When 
it  is  remembered  that  Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  had  plundered, 
duped,  deceived,  and  fooled  his  pupil  in  every  possible  way,  it 
will  not  be  wondered  at,  that,  beginning  to  hate  him,  he  be- 
gan to  hate  him  cordially. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  655 

On  the  other  hand,  the  younj^  lord  having  thought — which 
he  very  seldom  did  about  anything — and  seriously  too,  upon 
the  affair  with  Nicholas,  and  the  circumstances  which  led  to 
it,  had  arrived  at  a  manly  and  honest  conclusion.  Sir  Mul- 
berry's coarse  and  insulting  behavior  on  the  occasion  in  ques- 
tion had  produced  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind  ;  a  strong 
suspicion  of  his  having  led  him  on  to  pursue  Miss  Nickleby 
for  purposes  of  his  own,  had  been  lurking  there,  for  some 
time  ;  he  was  really  ashamed  of  his  share  in  the  transaction, 
and  deeply  mortified  by  the  misgiving  that  he  had  been  gulled. 
He  had  had  sufficient  leisure  to  reflect  upon  these  things, 
during  their  late  retirement ;  and,  at  times,  when  his  careless 
and  indolent  nature  would  permit,  had  availed  himself  of  the 
opportunity.  Slight  circumstances,  too,  had  occurred  to  in- 
crease his  suspicion.  It  wanted  but  a  very  slight  circum- 
stance to  kindle  his  wrath  against  Sir  Mulberry.  This  his 
disdainful  and  insolent  tone  in  their  recent  conversation  (the 
only  one  they  had  held  upon  the  subject  since  the  period  to 
which  Sir  Mulberry  referred),  effected. 

Thus  they  rejoined  their  friends  :  each  with  causes  of  dis- 
like against  the  other,  rankling  in  his  breast :  the  young  man 
haunted,  besides,  with  thoughts  of  the  vindictive  retaliation 
which  was  threatened  against  Nicholas,  and  the  determination 
to  prevent  it  by  some  strong  step,  if  possible.  But  this  was 
not  all.  Sir  Mulberry,  conceiving  that  he  had  silenced  him 
effectually,  could  not  suppress  his  triumph,  or  forbear  from 
following  up  what  he  conceived  to  be  his  advantage.  Mr. 
Pyke  was  there,  and  Mr.  Pluck  was  there,  and  Colonel  Chou- 
ser,  and  other  gentlemen  of  the  same  caste  was  there,  and  it 
was  a  great  point  for  Sir  Mulberry  to  show  them  that  he  had 
not  lost  his  influence.  At  first,  the  young  lord  contented  him- 
self with  a  silent  determination  to  take  measures  for  with- 
drawing himself  from  the  connection  immediately.  By  degrees, 
he  grew  more  angry,  and  was  exasperated  by  jests  and  fa- 
miliarities which,  a  few  hours  before,  would  have  been  a  source 
of  amusement  to  him.  This  did  not  serve  him  ;  for,  at  such 
bantering  or  retort  as  suited  the  company,  he  was  no  match 
for  Sir  Mulberry.  Still,  no  violent  rupture  took  place.  They 
returned  to  town  ;  Messrs.  Pyke  and  Pluck  and  other  gentle- 
men frequently  protesting  on  the  way  thither,  that  Sir  Mul- 
berry had  never  been  in  such  tiptop  spirits  in  all  his  life. 

They   dined    together,    sumptuously.      The   wine    flowed 
freely,  as  indeed  it  had  done  all  day.     Sir  Mulberry  drank,  to 


6  c  6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

recompense  himself  for  his  recent  abstinence  ;  the  young  lord, 
to  drown  his  indignation  ;  the  remainder  of  the  party,  because 
the  wine  was  of  the  best  and  they  had  nothing  to  pay.  It 
was  nearly  midnight  when  they  rushed  out,  wild,  burning  with 
wine,  their  blood  boiling,  and  their  brains  on  fire,  to  the 
gaming-table. 

Here  they  encountered  another  party,  mad  like  them- 
selves. The  excitement  of  play,  hot  rooms,  and  glaring  lights, 
was  not  calculated  to  allay  the  fever  of  the  time.  In  that 
giddy  whirl  of  noise  and  confusion,  the  men  were  delirious. 
Who  thought  of  money,  ruin,  or  the  morrow,  in  the  savage  in- 
toxication of  the  moment  .=*  More  wine  was  called  for,  glass 
after  glass  was  drained,  their  parched  and  scalding  mouths 
were  cracked  with  thirst.  Down  poured  the  wine  like  oil  on 
blazing  fire.  And  still  the  riot  went  on.  The  debauchery 
gained  its  height ;  glasses  were  dashed  upon  the  floor  by 
hands  that  could  not  carry  them  to  lips ;  oaths  were  shouted 
out  by  lips  which  could  scarcely  form  the  words  to  vent  them 
in  ;  drunken  losers  cursed  and  roared  ;  some  mounted  on 
the  tables,  waving  bottles  above  their  heads,  and  bidding  de- 
fiance to  the  rest ;  somq  danced,  some  sang,  some  tore  the 
cards  and  raved.  Tumult  and  frenzy  reigned  supreme  ;  when 
a  noise  arose  that  drowned  all  others,  and  two  men,  seizing 
each  other  by  the  throat,  struggled  into  the  middle  of  the 
room. 

A  dozen  voices,  until  now  unheard,  called  aloud  to  part 
them.  Those  who  had  kept  themselves  cool,  to  win,  and  who 
earned  their  living  in  such  scenes,  threw  themselves  upon  the 
combatants,  and,  forcing  them  asunder,  dragged  them  some 
space  apart. 

"  Let  me  go  !  "  cried  Sir  Mulberry,  in  a  thick  hoarse  voice. 
"  He  struck  me  !  Do  you  hear  ?  I  say,  he  struck  me.  Have 
I  a  friend  here  ?  Who  is  this  t  Westwood.  Do  you  hear  me 
say  he  struck  me  !  " 

"  I  hear,  I  hear,"  replied  one  of  those  who  held  him. 
"  Come  away,  for  to-night !  " 

"  I  will  not,  by  G — ,"  he  replied.  "  A  dozen  men  about 
us  saw  the  blow." 

"To-morrow  will  be  ample  time,"  said  the  friend. 

"  It  will  not  be  ample  time  !  "  cried  Sir  Mulberry.  "  To- 
night, at  once,  here  !  "  His  passion  was  so  great,  that  he 
could  not  articulate,  but  stood  clenching  his  fist,  tearing  his 
hair,  and  stamping  on  the  ground. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


657 


*'  What  is  this,  my  lord  ? "  said  one  of  those  vs^ho  sur- 
rounded him.     "  Have  blows  passed  ?  " 

"  One  blow  has,"  was  the  panting  reply.  "  I  struck  him. 
I  proclaim  it  to  all  here  !  I  struck  him,  and  he  knows  why. 
I  say,  with  him,  let  this  quarrel  be  adjusted  now.  Captain 
Adams,"  said  the  young  lord,  looking  hurriedly  about  him, 
and  addressing  one  of  those  who  had  interposed,  "  Let  me 
speak  with  you,  I  beg." 

The  person  addressed,  stepped  forward,  and,  taking  the 
young  man's  arm,  they  retired  together,  followed  shortly  after- 
wards by  Sir  Mulberry  and  his  friend. 

It  was  a  profligate  haunt  of  the  worst  repute,  and  not  a 
place  in  which  such  an  affair  was  likely  to  awaken  any  sym- 
pathy for  either  party,  or  to  call  forth  any  further  remon- 
strance or  interposition.  Elsewhere,  its  further  progress  would 
have  been  instantly  prevented,  and  time  allowed  for  sober  and 
cool  reflection  ;  but  not  there.  Disturbed  in  their  orgies,  the 
party  broke  up  ;  some  reeled  away  with  looks  of  tipsy  gravity  ; 
others  withdrew,  noisily  discussing  what  had  just  occurred ; 
the  gentlemen  of  honor  who  lived  upon  their  winnings  re- 
marked to  each  other,  as  they  went  out,  that  Hawk  was  a  good 
shot ;  those  who  had  been  most  noisy,  fell  fast  asleep  upon 
the  sofas,  and  thought  no  more  about  it. 

Meanwhile,  the  two  seconds,  as  they  may  be  called  now, 
after  a  long  conference,  each  with  his  principal,  met  together  in 
another  room.  Both  utterly  heartless,  both  men  upon  town, 
both  thoroughly  initiated  in  its  worst  vices,  both  deeply  in 
debt,  both  fallen  from  some  higher  estate,  both  addicted  to 
ever}^  depravity  for  which  society  can  find  some  genteel  name 
and  plead  its  most  depraving  conventionalities  as  an  excuse, 
they  were,  naturally,  gentlemen  of  unblemished  honor  them- 
selves, and  of  great  nicety  concerning  the  honor  of  other 
people. 

These  two  gentlemen  were  unusually  cheerful,  just  now ; 
for  the  affair  was  pretty  certain  to  make  some  noise,  and  could 
scarcely  fail  to  enhance  their  reputations. 

"  This  is  an  awkward  affair,  Adams,"  said  Mr.  Westwood, 
drawing  himself  up, 

"  Very,"  returned  the  captain ;  "  a  blow  has  been  struck, 
and  there  is  but  one  course,  of  course." 

"  No  apology,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Mr.  Westwood. 

"  Not  a  syllable,  sir,  from  my  man,  if  we  talk  till  dooms 
day,"  returned  the  captain.     "  The  original  cause  of  dispute, 

42 


658  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

I  understand,  was  some  girl  or  other,  to  whom  your  principal 
applied  certain  terms,  which  Lord  Frederick,  defending  the 
girl,  repelled.  But  this  led  to  a  long  recrimination  upon  a 
great  many  sore  subjects,  charges,  and  counter-charges.  Sir 
Mulberry  was  sarcastic  ;  Lord  Frederick  was  excited,  and 
struck  him  in  the  heat  of  provocation,  and  under  circum- 
stances of  great  aggravation.  The  blow,  unless  there  is  a  full 
retraction  on  the  part  of  Sir  Mulberrj^,  Lord  Frederick  is  ready 
to  justify." 

"  There  is  no  more  to  be  said,"  returned  the  other,  "  but 
to  settle  the  hour  and  the  place  of  meeting.  It's  a  responsi- 
bility ;  but  there  is  a  strong  feeling  to  have  it  over.  Do  you 
object  to  say  at  sunrise  ?  " 

"  Sharp  work,"  replied  the  captain,  referring  to  his  watch, 
"  however,  as  this  seems  to  have  been  a  long  time  breeding, 
and  negotiation  is  only  a  waste  of  words,  no." 

"  Something  may  possibly  be  said,  out  of  doors,  after  what 
passed  in  the  other  room,  which  renders  it  desirable  that  we 
should  be  off  without  delay,  and  quite  clear  of  town,"  said 
Mr.  Westwood.  "  What  do  you  say  to  one  of  the  meadows 
opposite  Twickenham,  by  the  river-side?  " 

The  captain  saw  no  objection. 

"  Shall  we  join  company  in  the  avenue  of  trees  which  leads 
from  Petersham  to  Ham  House,  and  settle  the  exact  spot 
when  we  arrive  there  ?  "  said  Mr.  Westwood. 

To  this  the  captain  also  assented.  After  a  few  other  pre- 
liminaries, equally  brief,  and  having  settled  the  road  each 
party  should  take  to  avoid  suspicion,  they  separated. 

"We  shall  just  have  comfortable  time,  my  lord,"  said  the 
captain,  when  he  had  communicated  the  arrangements,  "  to 
call  at  my  rooms  for  a  case  of  pistols,  and  then  jog  coolly 
down.  If  you  will  allow  me  to  dismiss  your  servant,  we'll 
take  my  cab  ;  for  yours,  perhaps,  might  be  recognized." 

What  a  contrast,  when  they  reached  the  street,  to  the 
scene  they  had  just  left  !  It  was  already  daybreak.  For  the 
flaring  yellow  light  within,  was  substituted  the  clear,  bright, 
glorious  morning  ;  for  a  hot,  close  atmosphere,  tainted  with 
the  smell  of  expiring  lamps,  and  reeking  with  the  steams  of 
riot  and  dissipation,  the  free,  fresh,  wholesome  air.  But  to 
the  fevered  head  on  which  that  cool  air  blew,  it  seemed  to 
come  laden  with  remorse  for  time  mis-spent  and  countless 
opportunities  neglected.  With  throbbing  veins  and  burning 
skin,  eyes  wild  and  heavy,  thoughts  hurried  and  disordered, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  659 

he  felt  as  though  the  light  were  a  reproach,  and  shrank  in- 
voluntarily from  the  day  as  if  he  were  some  foul  and  hideous 
thing. 

"  Shivering  ?  "  said  the  captain.     "  You  are  cold." 

"  Rather." 

"  It  does  strike  cool,  coming  out  of  those  hot  rooms.  Wrap 
that  cloak  about  you.     So,  so  ;  now  we're  off." 

They  rattled  through  the  quiet  streets,  made  their  call  at 
the  captain's  lodgings,  cleared  the  town,  and  emerged  upon 
the  open  road  without  hindrance  or  molestation. 

Fields,  trees,  gardens,  hedges,  everything  looked  very 
beautiful  ;  the  young  man  scarcely  seemed  to  have  noticed 
them  before,  though  he  had  passed  the  same  objects  a 
thousand  times.  There  was  a  peace  and  serenity  upon  them 
all,  strangely  at  variance  with  the  bewilderment  and  confusion 
of  his  own  half-sobered  thoughts,  and  yet  impressive  and 
welcome.  He  had  no  fear  upon  his  mind  ;  but,  as  he  looked 
about  him,  he  had  less  anger ;  and  though  all  delusions, 
relative  to  his  worthless  late  companion,  were  now  cleared 
away,  he  rather  wished  he  had  never  known  him  than  thought 
of  its  having  come  to  this. 

The  past  night,  the  day  before,  and  many  other  days  and 
nights  beside,  all  mingled  themselves  up  in  one  unintelligible 
and  senseless  whirl  ;  he  could  not  separate  the  transactions  of 
one  time  from  those  of  another.  Now,  the  noise  of  the  wheels 
resolved  itself  into  some  wild  tune  in  which  he  could  recognize 
scraps  of  airs  he  knew ;  now,  there  was  nothing  in  his  ears  but 
a  stunning  and  bewildering  sound,  like  rushing  water.  But 
his  companion  rallied  him  on  being  so  silent,  and  they  talked 
and  laughed  boisterously.  When  they  stopped,  he  was  a  little 
surprised  to  find  himself  in  the  act  of  smoking  ;  but,  on  reflec- 
tion, he  remembered  when  and  where  he  had  taken  the  cigar. 

They  stopped  at  the  avenue  gate  and  alighted,  leaving  the 
carriage  to  the  care  of  the  servant,  who  was  a  smart  fellow, 
and  nearly  as  well  accustomed  to  such  proceedings  as  his 
master.  Sir  Mulberry  and  his  friend  were  already  there.  All 
four  walked  in  profound  silence,  up  the  aisle  of  stately  elm 
trees,  which,  meeting  far  above  their  heads,  formed  a  long 
green  perspective  of  gothic  arches,  terminating,  like  some  old 
ruin,  in  the  open  sky. 

After  a  pause,  and  a  brief  conference  between  the  seconds, 
they,  at  length,  turned  to  the  right,  and  taking  a  track  across 
a  little  meadow,  passed  Ham  House  and  came  into  some 
fields  beyond.     In  one  of  these,  they  stopped.     The  ground 


66o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

was  measured,  some  usual  forms  gone  through,  the  two 
principals  were  placed  front  to  front  at  the  distance  agreed 
upon,  and  Sir  Mulberry  turned  his  face  towards  his  young 
adversary  for  the  first  time.  He  was  very  pale,  his  eyes  were 
bloodshot,  his  dress  disordered,  and  his  hair  dishevelled.  For 
the  face,  it  expressed  nothing  but  violent  and  evil  passions. 
He  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  ;  gazed  at  his  opponent, 
steadfastly,  for  a  few  moments  ;  and  then  taking  the  weapon 
which  was  tendered  to  him,  bent  his  eyes  upon  that,  and 
looked  up  no  more  until  the  word  was  given,  when  he  instantly 
fired. 

The  two  shots  were  fired,  as  nearly  as  possible,  at  the 
same  instant.  In  that  instant,  the  young  lord  turned  his  head 
sharply  round,  fixed  upon  his  adversar}^  a  ghastly  stare,  and, 
without  a  groan  or  stagger,  fell  down  dead. 

"  He's  gone  !  "  cried  Westwood,  who,  with  the  other  second 
had  run  up  to  the  body,  and  fallen  on  one  knee  beside  it. 

"  His  blood  on  his  own  head,"  said  Sir  Mulberry.  "  He 
brought  this  upon  himself,  and  forced  it  upon  me." 

"Captain  Adams,"  cried  Westwood,  hastily,  "I  call  you 
to  witness  that  this  was  fairly  done.  Hawk,  we  have  not  a 
moment  to  lose.  We  must  leave  this  place  immediately,  push 
for  Brighton,  and  cross  to  France  with  all  speed.  This  has 
been  a  bad  business,  and  may  be  worse,  if  we  delay  a  moment. 
Adams,  consult  your  own  safety,  and  don't  remain  here  ;  the 
living  before  the  dead  ;  good-by  !  " 

With  these  words,  he  seized  Sir  Mulberr}'  by  the  arm,  and 
hurried  him  away.  Captain  Adams — only  pausing  to  convince 
himself,  beyond  all  question,  of  the  fatal  result — sped  off  in 
the  same  direction,  to  concert  measures  with  his  servant  for 
removing  the  body,  and  securing  his  own  safety  likewise. 
■""-*■!  So  died  Lord  Frederick  Verisopht,  by  the  hand  which  he 
had  loaded  with  gifts,  and  clasped  a  thousand  times  ;  by  the 
act  of  him,  but  for  whom,  and  others  like  him,  he  might  have 
lived  a  happy  man,  and  died  with  children's  faces  round  his 
bee"; 

he  sun  came  proudly  up  in  all  his  majesty,  the  noble 
river  ran  its  winding  course,  the  leaves  quivered  and  rustled 
in  the  air,  the  birds  poured  their  cheerful  songs  from  every 
tree,  the  short-li\ed  butterfly  fluttered  its  little  wings  ;  all  the 
light  and  life  of  day  came  on  ;  and  amidst  it  all,  and  pressing 
down  the  grass  whose  every  blade  bore  twenty  tiny  lives,  lay 
the  dead  man,  with  his  stark  and  rigid  face  turned  upward  to 
the  sky. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  66 j 


CHAPTER    LI. 

THE  PROJECT  OF  MR.  RALPH  NICKLEBY  AND  HIS  FRIEND, 
APPROACHING  A  SUCCESSFUL  ISSUE,  BECOMES  UNEXPECT- 
EDLY KNOWN  TO  ANOTHER  PARTY  NOT  ADMITTED  INTO 
THEIR    CONFIDENCE. 

In  an  old  house,  dismal,  dark  and  dusty,  which  seemed  to 
have  withered,  like  himself,  and  to  have  grown  yellow  and 
shrivelled  in  hoarding  him  from  the  light  of  day,  as  he  had, 
in  hoarding  his  money,  lived  Arthur  Gride.  Meagre  old  chairs 
and  tables,  of  spare  and  bony  make,  and  hard  and  cold  as 
misers'  hearts,  were  ranged  in  grim  array  against  the  gloomy 
walls  ;  attenuated  presses,  grown  lank  and  lantern-jawed  in 
guarding  the  treasures  they  inclosed,  and  tottering,  as  though 
from  constant  fear  and  dread  of  thieves,  shrunk  up  in  dark 
corners,  whence  they  cast  no  shadows  on  the  ground,  and 
seemed  to  hide  and  cower  from  observation.  A  tall  grim 
clock  upon  the  stairs,  with  long  lean  hands  and  famished  face 
ticked  in  cautious  whispers  ;  and  when  it  struck  the  time,  in 
thin  and  piping  sounds  like  an  old  man's  voice,  it  rattled,  as  if 
it  were  pinched  with  hunger. 

No  fireside  couch  was  there,  to  invite  repose  and  comfort. 
Elbow-chairs  there  were,  but  they  looked  uneasy  in  their  minds, 
cocked  their  arms  suspiciously  and  timidly,  and  kept  on  their 
guard.  Others  were  fantastically  grim  and  gaunt,  as  having 
drawn  themselves  up  to  their  utmost  height,  and  put  on  their 
fiercest  looks  to  stare  all  comers  out  of  countenance.  Others, 
again,  knocked  up  against  their  neighbors,  or  leaned  for  sup- 
port against  the  wall— somewhat  ostentatiously,  as  if  to  call 
all  men  to  witness  that  they  were  not  worth  the  taking.  The 
dark  square  lumbering  bedsteads  seemed  built  for  restless 
dreams.  The  musty  hangings  seemed  to  creep  in  scanty  folds 
together,  whispering  among  themselves,  when  rustled  by  the 
wind,  their  trembling  knowledge  of  the  tempting  wares  that 
lurked  within  the  dark  and  tight-locked  closets. 

From  out  the  most  spare  and  hungry  room  in  all  this  spare 
and  hungry  house  there  came,  one  morning,  the  tremulous 


662  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

tones  of  old  Gride's  voice,  as  it  feebly  chirruped  forth  the  fag- 
end  of  some  forgotten  song,  of  which  the  burden  ran : 

Ta-  ran — tan — too, 

Throw  the  old  shoe, 

And  may  the  wedding  be  lucky! 

which  he  repeated,  in  the  same  shrill  quavering  notes,  again 
and  again,  until  a  violent  fit  of  coughing  obliged  him  to  desist, 
and  pursue  in  silence  the  occupation  upon  which  he  was  en- 
gaged. 

This  occupation  was,  to  take  down  from  the  shelves  of  a 
worm-eaten  wardrobe,  a  quantity  of  frowsy  garments,  one  by 
one  ;  to  subject  each  to  a  careful  and  minute  inspection  by 
holding  it  up  against  the  light,  and,  after  folding  it  with  great 
exactness,  to  lay  it  on  one  or  other  of  two  little  heaps  beside 
him.  He  never  took  two  articles  of  clothing  out  together,  but 
always  brought  them  forth,  singly,  and  never  failed  to  shut 
the  wardrobe  door,  and  turn  the  key,  between  each  visit  to  its 
shelves. 

'•The  snuff-colored  suit,"  said  Arthur  Gride,  surveying  a 
threadbare  coat,  "  Did  I  look  well  in  snuff-color  ?  Let  me 
think." 

The  result  of  his  cogitations  appeared  to  be  unfavorable, 
for  he  folded  the  garment  once  more,  laid  it  aside,  and 
mounted  on  a  chair  to  get  down  another ;  chirping  while  he 
did  so : 

Young,  loving,  and  fair. 

Oh  what  happiness  there  ! 

The  wedding  is  sure  to  be  lucky  ! 

"They  always  put  in  'young,' "  said  old  Arthur,  "but 
songs  are  only  written  for  the  sake  of  rhyme,  and  this  is  a 
silly  one  that  the  poor  country  people  sang,  when  I  was  a  lit- 
tle boy.  Though  stop— young  is  quite  right  too — it  means 
the  bride — yes.  He,  he,  he  !  It  means  the  bride.  Oh  dear, 
that's  good.  That's  very  good.  And  true  besides,  quite 
true  ! " 

In  the  satisfaction  of  this  discovery,  he  went  over  the  verse 
again,  with  increased  expression,  and  a  shake  or  two  here  and 
there.     He  then  resumed  his  employment. 

"  The  bottle-green,"  said  old  Arthur ;  "  the  bottle-green  was 
a  famous  suit  to  wear,  and  I  bought  it  very  cheap  at  a  pawn- 
broker's and  there  was — he,  he,  he  ! — a  tarnished  shilling  in  the 
waistcoat  pocket.  To  think  that  the  pawnbroker  shouldn't 
have  known  there  was  a  shilling  in  it '     /  knew  it !     I  felt  it 


'ts 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  663 

9, 
when  I  was  examining  the  quaUty.  Oh,  what  a  dull  dog  of  a 
pawnbroker !  It  was  a  lucky  suit  too,  this  bottle-green.  The 
very  day  I  put  it  on  first,  old  Lord  Mallowford  was  burnt  to 
death  in  his  bed,  and  all  the  post-obits  fell  in.  I'll  be  mar- 
ried in  the  bottle-green,  Peg.  Peg  Sliderskew — I'll  wear  the 
bottle-green  !  " 

This  call,  loudly  repeated  twice  or  thrice  at  the  room  door, 
brought  into  the  apartment  a  short,  thin,  weasen,  blear-eyed 
old  woman,  palsy-stricken  and  hideously  ugly,  who,  wiping  her 
shrivelled  face  upon  her  dirty  apron,  inquired,  in  that  subdued 
tone  in  which  deaf  people  commonly  speak  • 

"  Was  that  you  a  calling,  or  only  the  clock  a  striking  ?  My 
hearing  gets  so  bad,  I  never  know  which  is  which  ;  but  when 
I  hear  a  noise,  I  know  it  must  be  one  of  you,  because  nothing 
else  never  stirs  in  the  house." 

"Me,  Peg,  me,"  said  Arthur  Gride,  tapping  himself  on 
the  breast  to  render  the  reply  more  intelligible. 

"  You,  eh  ? "  returned  Peg.      "  And  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"I'll  be  married  in  the  bottle-green,"  cried  Arthur  Gride. 

"It's  a  deal  too  good  to  be  married  in,  master,'  rejoined 
Peg,  after  a  short  inspection  of  the  suit.  "  Haven't  you  got 
anything  worse  than  this  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that'll  do,  '  replied  old  Arthur. 

"  Why  not  do  ?  "  retorted  Peg.  "  Why  don't  you  wear 
your  every-day  clothes  like  a  man, — eh  ?  " 

"  They  an't  becoming  enough.  Peg,"  returned  her  master. 

"  Not  what  enough .?  "  said  Peg, 

"  Becoming." 

"  Becoming  what  ?  "  said  Peg  sharply.  "  Not  becoming 
too  old  to  wear?  " 

Arthur  Gride  muttered  an  imprecation  on  his  house- 
keeper's deafness,  as  he  roared  in  her  ear : 

"  Not  smart  enough  !     I  want  to  look  as  well  as  I  can." 

"  Look  !  "  cried  Peg.     "  If  she's  as  handsome  as  you  sayV 
she  is,  she  won't  look  much  at  you,  master,  take  your  oath  of  / 
that  ;  and  as  to  how  you  look  yourself — pepper-and  salt,  bot- 
tle-green, sky-blue,  or  tartan-plaid  will  make  no  difference  in 
you."  •  -^ 

With  which  consolatory  assurance.  Peg  Sliderskew  gath- 
ered up  the  chosen  suit,  and  folding  her  skinny  arms  upon  the 
bundle,  stood,  mouthing,  and  grinning,  and  blinking  her  wa- 
tery eyes,  like  an  uncouth  figure  in  some  monstrous  piece  of 
carving. 


664  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

.% 

"  You're  in  a  funny  humor,  an't  you,  Peg  ?  "  said  Arthur, 
with  not  the  best  possible  grace. 

"Why,  isn't  it  enough  to  make  me?"  rejoined  the  old 
woman.  "  I  shall  soon  enough  be  put  out,  though,  if  anybody 
tries  to  domineer  it  over  me ;  and  so  I  give  you  notice  mas- 
ter. Nobody  shall  be  put  over  Peg  Shderskew's  head,  after 
so  many  years  •  you  know  that,  and  so  I  needn't  tell  you ! 
That  won't  do  for  me — no,  no,  nor  for  you.  Try  that  once, 
and  come  to  rum — ruin — ruin  !  " 

"  Oh  dear,  dear.  I  shall  never  try  it,"  said  Arthur  Gride, 
appalled  by  the  mention  of  the  word,  "  not  for  the  world.  It 
would  be  very  easy  to  ruin  me  ;  we  must  be  very  careful  ;  more 
saving  than  ever,  with  another  mouth  to  feed.  Only  we — we 
mustn't  let  her  lose  her  good  looks,  Peg,  because  I  like  to  see 
'em" 

'  Take  care  you  don't  find  good  looks  come  expensive," 
returned  Peg,  shaking  her  fore- finger. 

■'  But  she  can  earn  money  herself,  Peg,"  said  Arthur 
Gride,  eagerly  watching  what  effect  his  communication  pro- 
duced upon  the  old  woman's  countenance  .  '  she  can  draw, 
paint,  work  all  manner  of  pretty  things  for  ornamenting  stools 
and  chairs  :  slippers.  Peg,  watch-guards,  hair-chains,  and  a 
thousand  little  dainty  trifles  that  I  couldn't  give  you  half  the 
names  of.  Then  she  can  play  the  piano  (and,  what's  .more, 
she's  got  one),  and  sings  like  a  little  bird.  She'll  be  very  cheap 
to  dress  and  keep,  Peg  ;   don't  you  thmk  she  will  ? " 

"  If  you  don't  let  her  make  a  fool  of  you,  she  may,"  re- 
turned Peg. 

"  A  fool  of  7ne!''  exclaimed  Arthur.  "  Trust  your  old  mas- 
ter not  to  be  fooled  by  pretty  faces.  Peg  ;  no,  no,  no— -nor  by 
ugly  ones  neither,  Mrs.  Sliderskew,"  he  softly  added  By  way 
of  soliloquy. 

"  You're  a  saying  something  you  don't  want  me  to  hear," 
said  Peg  ;  "  I  know  you  are." 

"  Oh  dear !  the  devil's  in  this  woman,"  muttered  Arthur  ; 
adding  with  an  ugly  leer,  "  I  said  1  trusted  everything  to  you 
Peg.     That  was  all." 

"  You  do  that,  master,  and  all  your  cares  are  over,"  said 
Peg  approvingly. 

"  When  Tdothat,  Peg  Sliderskew,"  thought  Arthur  Gride, 
"  they  will  be." 

Although  he  thought  this,  very  distinctly,  he  durst  not 
move  his  lips  lest  the  old  woman  should  detect  him.    He  even 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  66$ 

seemed  half  afraid  that  she  might  have  read  his  thoughts  ;  for 
he  leered  coaxingly  upon  her,  as  he  said  aloud  : 

"  Take  up  all  loose  stitches  in  the  bottle-green  with  the 
best  black  silk.  Have  a  skein  of  the  best,  and  some  new  but- 
tons for  the  coat,  and— this  is  a  good  idea.  Peg,  and  one  you'll 
like,  I  know — as  I  have  never  given  her  anything  yet,  and  girls 
like  such  attentions,  you  shall  polish  up  a  sparkling  necklace 
that  I  have  got  up  stairs,  and  I'll  give  it  her  upon  the  wedding 
morning — clasp  it  round  her  charming  little  neck  myself — and 
take  it  away  again  next  day.  He,  he,  he  !  I'll  lock  it  up  for 
her.  Peg,  and  lose  it.  Who'll  be  made  the  fool  of  there,  I 
wonder,  to  begin  with  :  eh,  Peg  ?  "  ' 

"  Mrs.  Sliderskew  appeared  to  approve  highly  of  this  inge- 
nious scheme,  and  expressed  her  satisfaction  by  various  rack- 
ings  and  twitchings  of  her  head  and  body,  which  by  no  means 
enhanced  her  charms.  These  she  prolonged  until  she  had 
hobbled  to  the  door,  when  she  exchanged  them  for  a  sour 
malignant  look,  and  twisting  her  under-jaw  from  side  to  side, 
muttered  hearty  curses  upon  the  future  Mrs.  Gride,  as  she 
crept  slowly  down  the  stairs,  and  paused  for  breath  at  nearly 
every  one. 

"  She's  half  a  witch,  I  think,"  said  Arthur  Gride,  when  he 
found  himself  again  alone.  "  But  she's  very  frugal,  and  she's 
very  deaf.  Her  living  costs  me  next  to  nothing  ;  and  it's  no 
use  her  listening  at  keyholes  ;  for  she  can't  hear.  She's  a 
charming  woman — for  the  purpose  ;  a  most  discreet  old  house- 
keeper, and  worth  her  weight  in — copper." 

Having  extolled  the  merits  of  his  domestic  in  these  high 
terms,  old  Arthur  went  back  to  the  burden  of  his  song.  The 
suit  destined  to  grace  his  approaching  nuptials  being  now  se- 
lected, he  replaced  the  others  with  no  less  care  than  he  had 
displayed .  in  drawing  them  from  the  musty  nooks  where  they 
had  silently  reposed  for  many  years. 

Startled  by  a  ring  at  the  door,  he  hastily  concluded  this 
operation,  and  locked  the  press  ;  but  there  was  no  need  for 
any  particular  hurr)%  as  the  discreet  Peg  seldom  knew  the  bell 
was  rung  unless  she  happened  to  cast  her  dim  eyes  upward, 
and  to  see  it  shaking  against  the  kitchen  ceiling.  After  a  short 
delay,  however.  Peg  tottered  in,  followed  by  Newman  Noggs. 

"  Ah  !  Mr.  Noggs  ! "  cried  Arthur  Gride,  rubbing  his 
hands.  "  My  good  friend,  Mr.  Noggs,  what  news  do  you 
bring  for  me  ?  " 

Newman,  with  a  steadfast  and  immovable  aspect,  and  his 


566  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

fixed  eye  very  fixed  indeed,  replied,  suiting  the   action  to  the 
word,  "  A  letter.     From  Mr.  Nickleby.     Bearer  waits." 
"  Won't  you  take  a — a — " 
Newman  looked  up,  and  smacked  his  lips. 
"—A  chair?" 

"  No,"  replied  Newman.  "  Thank'ee." 
Arthur  opened  the  letter,  with  trembling  hands,  and  de- 
voured its  contents  with  the  utmost  greediness,  chuckling  rap- 
turously over  it,  and  reading  it  several  times,  before  he  could 
take  it  from  before  his  eyes.  So  many  times  did  he  peruse  and 
re-peruse  it,  that  Newman  considered  it  expedient  to  remind 
him  of  his  presence. 

"  Answer,"    said  Newman.     "  Bearer  waits. 
"  True,"  replied  old  Arthur.     "  Yes — yes —  ;  I  almost  for- 
got, I  do  declare." 

"  I  thought  you  were  forgetting,"  said  Newman. 
"  Quite  right  to  remind  me,  Mr.  Noggs.     Oh,  very  right 
indeed,"  said  Arthur.     "Yes.     I'll  write  a  line.     I'm— I'm— 
rather  flurried,  Mr.  Noggs.     The  news  is — " 
"  Bad  ?  "  interrupted  Newman. 

"  No,  Mr.  Noggs,  thank  you  ;  good,  good.  The  very  best 
of  news.  Sit  down.  I'll  get  the  pen  and  ink,  and  write  a  line 
in  answer.  I'll  not  detain  you  long.  I  know  you're  a  treasure 
to  your  master,  Mr.  Noggs.  He  speaks  of  you  in  such  terms, 
sometimes,  that  oh  dear  !  you'd  be  astonished.  I  may  say 
that  I  do  too,  and  always  did.  I  always  say  the  same  of  you." 
"  That's  '  Curse  Mr.  Noggs  with  all  my  heart ! '  then,  if  you 
do,"  thought  Newman,  as  Gride  hurried  out. 

The  letter  had  fallen  on  the  ground.  Looking  carefully 
about  him,  for  an  instant,  Newman,  impelled  by  curiosity  to 
know  the  result  of  the  design  he  had  overheard  from  his  office 
closet,  caught  it  up  and  rapidly  read  as  follows : 

"  Gride. 

"  I  saw  Bray  again  this  morning,  and  proposed  the 
day  after  to-morrow  (as  you  suggested)  for  the  marriage. 
There  is  no  objection  on  his  part,  and  all  days  are  alike  to  his 
daughter.  We  will  go  together,  and  you  must  be  with  me  by 
seven  in  the  morning.     I  need  not  tell  you  to  be  punctual. 

"  Make  no  further  visits  to  the  'girl,  in  the  meantime. 
You  have  been  there,  of  late,  much  oftener  than  you  should. 
She  does  not  languish  for  you,  and  it  might  have  been  danger- 
ous.    Restrain  your  youthful  ardor  for  eight-and-forty  hours, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  667 

and  leave  her  to  the  father.     You  only  undo  what  he  does, 
and  does  well. 

"  Yours, 

"  Ralph  Nickleby." 

A  footstep  was  heard  without.  Newman  dropped  the  letter 
on  the  same  spot  again,  pressed  it  with  his  foot  to  prevent  its 
fluttering  away,  regained  his  seat  in  a  single  stride,  and  looked 
as  vacant  and  unconscious  as  ever  mortal  looked.  Arthur 
Gride,  after  peering  nervously  about  him,  spied  it  on  the 
ground,  picked  it  up,  and  sitting  down  to  write,  glanced  at 
Newman  Noggs,  who  was  staring  at  the  wall  with  an  intensity 
so  remarkable,  that  Arthur  was  quite  alarmed. 

"  Do  you  see  anything  particular,  Mr.  Noggs  ?  "  said 
Arthur,  trying  to  follow  the  direction  of  Newman's  eyes — 
which  was  an  impossibility,  and  a  thing  no  man  had  ever  done. 

"  Only  a  cobweb,"  replied  Newman. 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Newman.     "There's  a  fly  in  it." 

"  There  are  a  good  many  cobwebs  here,"  observed  Arthur 
Gride. 

"  So  there  are  in  our  place,"  returned  Newman  ;  "  and 
flies  too." 

Newman  appeared  to  derive  great  entertainment  from 
this  repartee,  and  to  the  great  discomposure  of  Arthur  Gride's 
nerves,  produced  a  series  of  sharp  cracks  from  his  finger-joints, 
resembling  the  noise  of  a  distant  discharge  of  small  artillery. 
Arthur  succeeded  in  finishing  his  reply  to  Ralph's  note,  never- 
theless, and  at  length  handed  it  over  to  the  eccentric  mes- 
senger for  deli\'ery. 

"  That's  it,  Mr.  Noggs,"  said  Gride. 

Newman  gave  a  nod,  put  it  in  his  hat,  and  was  shuffling 
away,  when  Gride,  whose  doting  delight  knew  no  bounds, 
beckoned  him  back  again,  and  said,  in  a  shrill  whisper,  and 
with  a  grin  which  puckered  up  his  whole  face,  and  almost 
obscured  his  eyes  : 

"  Will  you — will  you  take  a  little  drop  of  something — just 
a  taste  ?  " 

In  good  fellowship  (if  Arthur  Gride  had  been  capable  of 
it)  Newman  would  not  have  drunk  with  him  one  bubble  of  the 
richest  wine  that  was  ever  made  ;  but  to  see  what  he  would 
be  at,  and  to  punish  him  as  much  as  he  could,  he  accepted 
the  offer  immediately. 


668  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

Arthur  Gride,  therefore,  again  appUed  himself  to  the  press, 
and  from  a  shelf  laden  with  tall  Flemish  drinking-glasses,  and 
quaint  bottles,  some  with  necks  like  so  many  storks,  and 
others  with  square  Dutch-built  bodies  and  short  fat  apoplectic 
throats,  took  down  one  dusty  bottle  of  promising  appearance 
and  two  glasses  of  curiously  small  size. 

"  You  never  tasted  this,"  said  Arthur.  "  It's  eau-cTor — 
golden  water.  I  like  it  on  account  of  its  name,  It's  a  deli- 
cious name.  Water  of  gold,  golden  water  !  O  dear  me,  it 
seems  quite  a  sin  to  drink  it  1  " 

As  his  courage  appeared  to  be  fast  failing  him,  and  he 
trifled  with  the  stopper  in  a  manner  which  threatened  the  dis- 
missal of  the  bottle  to  its  old  place,  Newman  took  up  one  of 
the  little  glasses,  and  clinked  it,  twice  or  thrice,  against  the  bot- 
tle, as  a  gentle  reminder  that  he  had  not  been  helped  yet. 
With  a  deep  sigh,  Arthur  Gride  slowly  filled  it — though  not  to 
the  brim — and  then  filled  his  own. 

"  Stop,  stop  ;  don't  drink  it  yet,"  he  said  laying  his  hand 
on  Newman's  ;  "  it  was  given  to  me,  twenty  years  ago,  and 
when  I  take  a  little  taste,  which  is  ve — ry  seldom,  I  like  to 
think  of  it  beforehand,  and  teaze  myself.  We'll  drink  a  toast. 
Shall  we  drink  a  toast,  Mr.  Noggs  ?  " 

"  Ah !  "  said  Newman,  eyeing  his  little  glass  impatiently. 
"  Look  sharp.     Bearer  waits." 

"  Why,  then,  I'll  tell  you  what,"  tittered  Arthur,  "We'll 
drink — he,  he,  he  ! — we'll  drink  a  lady." 

"  The  ladies?  "  said  Newman. 

'  No,  no,  Mr.  Noggs,"  replied  Gride,  arresting  his  hand, 
"  a  lady.  You  wonder  to  hear  me  say  a  lady.  I  know  you 
do,  I  know  you  do.  Here's  little  Madeline.  That's  the  toast, 
Mr.  Noggs.     Little  Madeline  !  " 

"  Madeline,"  said  Newman;  inwardly  adding,  "and  God 
help  her  !  " 

The  rapidity  and  unconcern  with  which  Newman  dismissed 
his  portion  of  the  golder  water,  had  a  great  effect  upon  the 
old  man,  who  sat  upright  in  his  chair,  and  gazed  at  him,  open- 
mouthed,  as  if  the  sight  had  taken  away  his  breath.  Quite 
unmoved,  however,  Newman  left  him  to  sip  his  own,  at  leisure, 
or  to  pour  if  back  again  into  the  bottle,  if  he  chose,  and 
dcpirted  ;  after  greatly  outraging  the  dignity  of  Peg  Slider- 
skew  by  brushing  past  her,  in  the  passage,  without  a  word  of 
apology  or  recognition. 

Mr.  Gride  and  his  housekeeper,  immediately  on  being  left 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  669 

alone,  resolved  themselves  into  a  committee  of  ways  and 
means,  and  discussed  the  arrangements  which  should  be 
made  for  the  reception  of  the  young  bride.  As  they  were,  like 
some  other  committees,  extremely  dull  and  prolix  in  debate, 
this  history  may  pursue  the  footsteps  of  Newman  Noggs  : 
thereby  combining  advantage  with  necessity  ;  for  it  would 
have  been  necessary  to  do  so  under  any  circumstances,  and 
necessity  has  no  law,  as  all  the  world  know. 

"  You've  been  a  long  time,"  said  Ralph  when  Newman 
returned. 

"  He  was  a  long  time,"  replied  Newman. 

"  Bah  !  "  cried  Ralph,  impatiently.  "  Give  me  his  note, 
if  he  gave  you  one  :  his  message,  if  he  didn't.  And  don't  go 
away.     I  want  a  word  with  you,  sir." 

Newman  handed  in  the  note,  and  looked  very  virtuous  and 
innocent  while  his  employer  broke  the  seal,  and  glanced  his 
eye  over  it. 

"  He'll  be  sure  to  come !  "  muttered  Ralph,  as  he  tore  it 
to  pieces  ;  "  why  of  course,  I  know  he'll  be  sure  to  come. 
What  need  to  say  that  ?  Noggs  !  Pray  sir,  what  man  was 
that,  with  whom  I  saw  you  in  the  street  last  night  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Newman. 

"  You  had  better  refresh  your  memory,  sir,"  said  Ralph, 
with  a  threatening  look. 

"  I  tell  you,"  returned  Newman  boldly,  "  that  I  don't 
know.  He  came  here,  twice,  and  asked  for  you.  You  were 
out.  He  came  again.  You  packed  him  off,  yourself.  He 
gave  the  name  of  Brooker." 

"  I  know  he  did,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  what  then  ? " 

"  What  then  ?  Why,  then  he  lurked  about  and  dogged 
me  in  the  street.  He  follows  me,  night  after  night,  and  urges 
me  to  bring  him  face  to  face  with  you  ;  as  he  says  he  has  been 
once,  and  not  long  ago  either.  He  wants  to  see  you  face  to 
face,  he  says,  and  you'll  soon  hear  him  out,  he  warrants." 

"  And  what  say  you  to  that.-*"  inquired  Ralph,  looking 
keenly  at  his  drudge. 

"  That  it's  no  business  of  mine,  and  I  won't.  I  told  him 
he  might  catch  you  in  the  street,  if  that  was  all  he  wanted, 
but  no  !  that  wouldn't  do.  You  wouldn't  hear  a  word  there, 
he  said.  He  must  have  you,  alone  in  a  room  with  the  door 
locked,  where  he  could  speak  without  fear,  and  you'd  soon 
change  your  tone,  and  hear  him  patiently." 

"  An  audacious  dog  !  "  Ralph  muttered. 


670 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  That's  all  I  know,"  said  Newman.  "  I  say  again,  I  don't 
know  what  man  he  is.  I  don't  believe  he  knows  himself. 
You  have  seen  him  perhaps  ;  you  do." 

"  I  think  I  do,"  replied  Ralph. 

"  Well,"  retorted  Newman,  sulkily,  "  don't  expect  me  to 
know  him  too ;  that's  all.  You'll  ask  me,  next,  why  I  never 
told  you  this,  before.  What  would  you  say,  if  I  was  to  tell 
you  all  that  people  say  of  you  ?  What  do  you  call  me  when  1 
sometimes  do  ?     '  Brute,  ass  ! '  and  snap  at  me  like  a  dragon." 

This  was  true  enough  ;  though  the  question  which  New- 
man anticipated,  was,  in  fact,  upon  Ralph's  lips  at  the  moment. 

"  He  is  an  idle  ruffian,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  a  vagabond  from 
beyond  the  sea  where  he  travelled  for  his  crimes  ;  a  felon  let 
loose  to  run  his  neck  into  the  halter;  a  swindler,  who  has  the 
audacity  to  try  his  schemes  on  me  who  know  him  well.  The 
next  time  he  tampers  with  you,  hand  him  over  to  the  police, 
for  attempting  to  extort  money  by  lies  and  threats, — d'ye 
hear  t — and  leave  the  rest  to  me.  He  shall  cool  his  heels  in 
jail,  a  little  time,  and  I'll  be  bound  he  looks  for  other  folks  to 
fleece,  when  he  comes  out.     You  mind  what  I  say,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  hear,"  said  Newman. 

"  Do  it  then,"  returned  Ralph,  "  and  I'll  reward  you. 
Now,  you  may  go." 

Newman  readily  availed  himself  of  the  permission,  and 
shutting  himself  up  in  his  little  office,  remained  there,  in  very 
serious  cogitation,  all  day.  When  he  was  released  at  night, 
he  proceeded,  with  all  the  expedition  he  could  use,  to  the 
City,  and  took  up  his  old  position  behind  the  pump,  to  watch 
for  Nicholas.  For  Newman  Noggs  was  proud  in  his  way, 
and  could  not  bear  to  appear  as  his  friend,  before  the  broth- 
ers Cheeryble,  in  the  shabby  and  degraded  state  to  which  he 
was  reduced. 

He  had  not  occupied  this  position  many  minutes,  when  he 
was  rejoiced  to  see  Nicholas  approaching,  and  darted  out 
from  his  ambuscade  to  meet  him.  Nicholas,  on  his  part,  was 
no  less  pleased  to  encounter  his  friend,  whom  he  had  not 
seen  for  some  time  ;  so,  their  greeting  was  a  warm  one. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  you,  at  that  moment,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  That's  right,"  rejoined  Newman,  "  and  I  of  you.  I 
couldn't  help  coming  up,  to-night.  I  say  !  I  think  I'm  going 
to  find  out  something." 

"  And  what  may'that  be  ?  "  returned  Nicholas,  smiling  at 
this  odd  communication. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  671 

*'  I  don't  know  what  it  may  be,  I  don't  know  what  it  may 
not  be,"  said  Newman  ;  "  it's  some  secret  in  which  your  uncle 
is  concerned,  but  what,  I've  not  yet  been  able  to  discover, 
although  I  have  my  strong  suspicions.  I'll  not  hint  'em  now, 
in  case  you  should  be  disappointed." 

"/disappointed!"  cried  Nicholas;  "am  I  interested?" 

"  I  think  you  are,"  replied  Newman.  "  I  have  a  crotchet 
in  my  head  that  it  must  be  so.  I  have  found  out  a  man,  who 
plainly  knows  more  than  he  cares  to  tell  at  once.  And  he 
has  already  dropped  such  hints  to  me  as  puzzle  me — I  say,  as 
puzzle  me,"  said  Newman,  scratching  his  red  nose  into  a  state 
of  violent  inflammation,  and  staring  at  Nicholas  with  all  his 
might  and  main  meanwhile. 

Admiring  what  could  have  wound  his  friend  up  to  such  a 
pitch  of  mystery,  Nicholas  endeavored,  by  a  series  of  ques- 
tions, to  elucidate  the  cause  ;  but  in  vain.  Newman  could 
not  be  drawn  into  any  more  explicit  statement,  than  a  repe- 
tition of  the  perplexities  he  had  already  thrown  out,  and  a 
confused  oration,  showing,  How  it  was  necessary  to  use  the 
utmost  caution  ;  how  the  lynx-eyed  Ralph  had  already  seen 
him  in  company  with  his  unknown  correspondent ;  and  how 
he  had  baffled  the  said  Ralph  by  extreme  guardedness  of 
manner  and  ingenuity  of  speech  ;  having  prepared  himself 
for  such  a  contingency  from  the  first. 

Remembering  his  companion's  propensity, — of  which  his 
nose,  indeed,  perpetually  warned  all  beholders  like  a  beacon, 
— Nicholas  had  drawn  him  into  a  sequestered  tavern.  Here, 
they  fell  to  reviewing  the  origin  and  progress  of  their  ac- 
quaintance, as  men  sometimes  do,  and  tracing  out  the  little 
events  by  which  it  was  most  strongly  marked,  came  at  last  to 
Miss  Cecilia  Bobster. 

"  And  that  reminds  me,"  said  Newman,  "  that  you  never 
told  me  the  young  lady's  real  name." 

"  Madeline  ! "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Madeline  !  "  cried  Newman.  "  "V\'hat  Madeline  .?  Her 
other  name.     Say  her  other  name." 

"  Bray,"  said  Nicholas,  in  great  astonishment. 

"  It's  the  same  !  "  cried  Newman.  "  Sad  sXovj  !  Can  you 
stand  idly  by,  and  let  that  unnatural  marriage  take  place 
without  one  attempt  to  save  her  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  .?  "  exclaimed  Nicholas,  starting  up  ; 
"  marriage  !     Are  you  mad  ?  " 

"  Are   you  ?     Is    she  ?     Are   you   blind,    deaf,    senseless, 


672 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


dead?"  said  Newman.  "  Do  you  know  that  within  one  day, 
by  means  of  your  uncle  Ralph,  she  will  be  married  to  a  man 
as  bad  as  he,  and  worse,  if  worse  there  is  ?  Do  you  know 
that,  within  one  day,  she  will  be  sacrificed,  as  sure  as  you 
stand  there  alive,  to  a  hoary  wretch — a  devil  born  and  bred, 
and  gray  in  devils'  ways  ?  " 

"Be  careful  what  you  say,"  replied-  Nicholas.  "For 
Heaven's  sake  be  careful  !  I  am  left  here  alone,  and  those 
who  could  stretch  out  a  hand  to  rescue  her,  are  far  away. 
What  is  it  that  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  never  heard  her  name,"  said  Newman,  choking  with 
his  energy.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  How  was  I  to  know  ? 
We  might,  at  least,  have  had  some  time  to  think  ! " 

"  What  is  it  that  you  mean  ?  ''  cried  Nicholas. 

It  was  not  an  easy  task  to  arrive  at  this  information  ;  but, 
after  a  great  quantity  of  extraordinary  pantomime,  which  in 
no  way  assisted  it,  Nicholas,  who  was  almost  as  wild  as  New- 
man Noggs  himself,  forced  the  latter  down  upon  his  seat  and 
held  him  down  until  he  began  his  tale. 

Rage,  astonishment,  indignation,  and  a  storm  of  passions, 
rushed  through  the  listener's  heart,  as  the  plot  was  laid  bare. 
He  no  sooner  understood  it  all,  than  with  a  face  of  ashy  pale- 
ness, and  trembling  in  every  limb,  he  darted  from  the  house. 

"  Stop  him ! "  cried  Newman,  bolting  out  in  pursuit. 
"  He'll  be  doing  something  desperate  ;  he'll  murder  some- 
body.    Hallo  !  there,  stop  him.     Stop  thief !  stop  tliief !  " 


CHAPTER  LH. 

NICHOLAS  DESPAIRS  OF  RESCUING  MADELINE  BRAY,  BUT 
PLUCKS  UP  HIS  SPIRITS  AGAIN,  AND  DETERMINES  TO  AT- 
TEMPT IT.  DOMESTIC  INTELLIGENCE  OF  THE  KENWIGSES 
AND     LILLYVICKS. 

Finding  that  Newman  was  determined  to  arrest  his  pro- 
gress at  any  hazard,  and  apprehensive  that  some  well-inten- 
tioned passenger  attracted  by  the  cry  of  "  stop  thief,"  might 
lay  violent  hands  upon  his  person,  and  place  him  in  a  dis- 
agreeable predicament  from  which  he  might  have  some  diffi- 


NICHOLAS  NJCKLEBY. 


673 


culty  in  extricating  himself,  Nicholas  soon  slackened  his  pace, 
and  suffered  Newman  Noggs  to  come  up  with  him  ;  which  he 
did,  in  so  breathless  a  condition,  that  it  seemed  impossible  he 
could  have  held  out  for  a  minute  longer. 

"I  will  go  straight  to  Bray's,"  said  Nicholas.  "  I  will  see 
this  man.  If  there  is  a  feeling  of  humanity  lingering  in  his 
breast,  a  spark  of  consideration  for  his  own  child,  motherless 
and  friendless  as  she  is,  I  will  awaken  it." 

"You  will  not,"  replied  Newman.  "You  will  not,  in- 
deed." 

"  Then,"  said  Nicholas,  pressing  onward,  "  I  will  act  upon 
my  first  impulse,  and  go  straight  to  Ralph  Nickleby." 

"  By  the  time  you  reach  his  house  he  will  be  in  bed,"  said 
Newman. 

"  I'll  drag  him  from  it,"  cried  Nicholas. 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Noggs.     "  Be  yourself." 

"You  are  the  best  of  friends  to  me,  Newman,"  rejoined 
Nicholas  after  a  pause,  and  taking  his  hand  as  he  spoke.  "  I 
have  made  head  against  many  trials  ;  but  the  misery  of  an- 
other, and  such  misery,  is  involved  in  this  one,  that  I  declare 
to  you  I  am  rendered  desperate,  and  know  not  how  to  act." 

In  truth,  it  did  seem  a  hopeless  case.  It  was  impossible 
to  make  any  use  of  such  intelligence  as  Newman  Noggs  had 
gleaned,  when  he  lay  concealed  in  the  closet.  The  mere  cir- 
cumstance of  the  compact  between  Ralph  Nickleby  and  Gride 
would  not  invalidate  the  marriage,  or  fender  Bray  averse  to 
it,  who,  if  he  did  not  actually  know  of  the  existence  of  some 
such  understanding,  doubtless  suspected  it.  What  had  been 
hinted  with  reference  to  some  fraud  on  Madeline,  had  been 
put  with  sulificient  obscurity  by  Arthur  Gride,  but  coming 
from  Newman  Noggs,  and  obscured  still  further  by  the  smoke 
of  his  pocket  pistol,  it  became  wholly  unintelligible,  and  in- 
volved in  utter  darkness. 

"  There  seems  no  ray  of  hope,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  The  greater  necessity  for  coolness,  for  reason,  for  con- 
sideration, for  thought,"  said  Newman,  pausing  at  every  alter- 
nate word,  to  look  anxiously  in  his  friend's  face.  "  Where 
are  the  brothers  .-'  " 

"  Both  absent  on  urgent  business,  as  they  will  be  for  a 
week  to  come." 

"  Is  there  no  way  of  communicating  with  them  ?  No  way 
of  getting  one  of  them  here,  by  to-morrow  night  ? " 

"  Impossible  !  "  said  Nicholas,  "  the  sea  is  between  us  and 

43 


674  NIC  HO  L  A  S  NICKL  EB  Y. 

them.     With  the  fairest  winds  that  ever  blew,  to  go  and  re- 
turn would  take  three  days  and  nights." 

"  Their  nephew,"  said  Newman,  "  their  old  clerk." 

"  What  could  either  do,  that  I  cannot .'  "  rejoined  Nich- 
olas. "  With  reference  to  them  especially,  I  am  enjoined  to 
the  strictest  silence  on  this  subject.  What  right  have  I  to 
betray  the  confidence  reposed  in  me,  when  nothing  but  a 
miracle  can  prevent  this  sacrifice  .?  " 

"  Think,"  urged  Newman.     "Is  there  no  way  ?  " 

"There  is  none,"  said  Nicholas,  in  utter  dejection.  "Not 
one.  The  father  urges,  the  daughter  consents.  These  de- 
mons have  her  in  their  toils  ;  legal  right,  might,  power,  money, 
and  every  influence  are  on  their  side.  How  can  I  hope  to 
save  her?  " 

"  Hope  to  the  last !  "  said  Newman,  clapping  him  on  the 
back.  "  Always  hope  ;  that's  a  dear  boy.  Never  leave  off 
hoping  ;  it  don't  answer.  Do  you  mind  me,  Nick  ?  It  don't 
answer.  Don't  leave  a  stone  unturned.  It's  always  some- 
thing, to  know  you've  done  the  most  you  could.  But,  don't 
leave  off  hoping,  or  it's  of  no  use  doing  anything.  Hope, 
hope,  to  the  last !  " 

Nicholas  needed  encouragement.  The  suddenness  with 
which  intelligence  of  the  two  usurers'  plans  had  come  upon 
him,  the  little  time  which  remained  for  exertion,  the  proba- 
bility, almost  amounting  to  certainty  itself,  that  a  few  hours 
would  place  Madeline  Bray  for  ever  beyond  his  reach,  con- 
sign her  to  unspeakable  misery,  and  perhaps  to  an  untimely 
death  :  all  this  quite  stunned  and  overwhelmed  him.  Every 
hope  connected  with  her  that  he  had  suffered  himself  to  form, 
or  had  entertained  unconsciously,  seemed  to  fall  at  his  feet, 
withered  and  dead.  Every  charm  with  which  his  memory  or 
imagination  had  surrounded  her,  presented  itself  before  him, 
only  to  heighten  his  anguish  and  add  new  bitterness  to  his 
despair.  Every  feeling  of  sympathy  for  her  forlorn  condition, 
and  of  admiration  of  her  heroism  and  fortitude,  aggravated 
the  indignation  which  shook  him  in  every  limb,  and  swelled 
his  heart  almost  to  bursting. 

But,  if  Nicholas's  own  heart  embarrassed  him,  Newman's 
came  to  his  relief.  There  was  so  much  earnestness  in  his  re- 
monstrance, and  such  sincerity  and  fervor  in  his  manner,  odd 
and  ludicrous  as  it  always  was,  that  it  imparted  to  Nicholas 
new  firmness,  and  enabled  him  to  say,  after  he  had  walked  on 
for  some  little  way  in  silence  : 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V  675 

You  read  me  a  good  lesson,  Newman,  and  I  will  profit 
by  it.  One  step,  at  least,  I  may  take — am  bound  to  take  in- 
deed—and to  that  I  will  apply  myself  to-morrow." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Noggs  wistfully.  "  Not  to  threaten 
Ralph  ?     Not  to  see  the  father  ? 

"  To  see  the  daughter,  Newman,"  replied  Nicholas.  "  To 
do  what,  after  all,  is  the  utmost  that  the  brothers  could  do, 
if  they  were  here,  as  Heaven  send  they  were  !  To  reason 
with  her  upon  this  hideous  union,  to  point  out  to  her  all  the 
horrors  to  which  she  is  hastening ;  rashly,  it  may  be,  and 
without  due  reflection.  To  entreat  her,  at  least,  to  pause. 
She  can  have  had  no  counsellor  for  her  good.  Perhaps  even 
I  may  move  her  so  far  yet,  though  it  is  the  eleventh  hour, 
and  she  upon  the  very  brink  of  ruin." 

"  Bravely  spoken  !  "  said  Newman.  "  Well  done,  well 
done !     Yes.     Very  good." 

"  And  I  do  declare,"  cried  Nicholas,  with  honest  enthusi- 
asm, "  that  in  this  effort  I  am  influenced  by  no  selfish  or  per- 
sonal considerations,. but  by  pity  for  her,  and  detestation  and 
abliorn^uce  of  this  scheme  ;  and  that  I  would  do  the  same, 
were  there  twenty  rivals  in  the  field,  and  I  the  la.,st, and  least 
faxored  of  them  all." 

"  Vou  would,  I  believe,"  said  Newman.  "  But  where  are 
you  hurrying  now  ?  " 

"  Homewards,"  answered  Nicholas.  "  Do  you  come  with 
me,  or  shall  I  say  good-night  ?  " 

"  I'll  come  a  little  way,  if  you  will  but  walk,  not  run," 
said  Noggs. 

"  I  cannot  walk  to-night,  Newman,"  returned  Nicholas, 
hurriedly.  "  I  must  move  rapidly,  or  I  could  not  draw  my 
breath.     I'll  tell  you  what  I've  said  and  done,  to-morrow  !  " 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  darted  off  at  a  rapid  pace, 
and,  plunging  intothe  crowds  which  thronged  the  street,  was 
quickly  lost  to  view. 

"  He's  a  violent  youth  at  times,"  said  Newman,  looking 
after  him  ;  "  and  yet  I  like  him  for  it.  There's  cause  enough 
now,  or  the  deuce  is  in  it.  Hope  !  I  sa/d  hope,  I  tliink ! 
Ralph  Nickleby  and  Gride  with  their  heads  together !  And 
hope  for  the  opposite  party !     Ho  !  ho  1  " 

It  was  with  a  very  melancholy  laugh  that  Newman  Noggs 
concluded  this  soliloquy  ;  and  it  was  with  a  very  melancholy 
shake  of  the  head,  and  a  very  rueful  countenance,  that  he 
turned  about,  and  went  plodding  on  his  way. 


676 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


This,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  would  have  been  to 
some  small  tavern  or  dram-shop ;  that  being  his  way,  in  more 
senses  than  one.  But  Newman  was  too  much  interested,  and 
too  anxious,  to  betake  himself  even  to  this  resource,  and  so, 
with  many  desponding  and  dismal  reflections,  went  straight 
home. 

It  had  come  to  pass,  that  afternoon,  that  Miss  Morleena 
Kenwigs  had  received  an  invitation  to  repair  next  day,  per 
steamer  from  Westminster  Bridge,  unto  the  Eel-pie  Island  at 
Twickenham  :  there  to  make  merry  upon  a  cold  collation, 
bottled-beer,  shrub,  and  shrimps,  and  to  dance  in  the  open 
air  to  the  music  of  a  locomotive  band,  conveyed  thither  for 
the  purpose :  the  steamer  being  specially  engaged  by  a  dan- 
cing-master of  extensive  connection  for  the  accommodation 
of  his  numerous  pupils,  and  the  pupils  displaying  their  appre- 
ciation of  the  dancing-master's  services,  by  purchasing  them- 
selves, and  inducing  their  friends  to  do  the  like,  divers  light- 
blue  tickets,  entitling  them  to  join  the  expedition.  Of  these 
light-blue  tickets,  one  had  been  presented  by  an  ambitious 
neighbor  to  Miss  Morleena  Kenwigs,  with  an  invitation  to 
join  her  daughters  ;  and  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  rightly  deeming  that 
the  honor  of  the  family  was  involved  in  Miss  Morleena's 
making  the  most  splendid  appearance  possible  on  so  short  a 
notice,  and  testifying  to  the  dancing-master  that  there  were 
other  dancing-masters  besides  him,  and  to  all  fathers  and 
mothers  present  that  other  people's  children  could  learn  to  be 
genteel  besides  theirs,  had  fainted  away,  twice,  under  the 
magnitude  of  her  preparations,  but,  upheld  by  a  determina- 
tion to  sustain  the  family  name  or  perish  in  the  attempt,  was 
still  hard  at  work  when  Newman  Noggs  came  home. 

Now,  between  the  Italian-ironing  of  frills,  the  flouncing  of 
trousers,  the  trimming  of  frocks,  the  faintings  and  the  com- 
ings to  again,  incidental  to  the  occasion,  Mrs.  Kenwigs  had 
been  so  entirely  occupied,  that  she  had  not  observed,  until 
within  half  an  hour  before,  that  the  flaxen  tails  of  Miss  Mor- 
leena's hair  were,  in  a  manner,  run  to  seed  ;  and  that,  unless 
she  were  put  under  the  hands  of  a  skilful  hair-dresser,  she 
never  could  achieve  that  signal  triumph  over  the  daughters  of 
all  other  people,  anything  less  than  which  would  be  tanta- 
mount to  defeat,  'i'lus  discovery  drove  Mrs.  Kenwigs  to  de- 
spair; for  the  hair-dresser  lived  three  streets  and  eight  danger- 
ous crossings  olT ;  Morleena  could  not  be  trusted  to  go  there 
alone,  even  if  such  a  proceeding  were  strictly  proper  :  of  which 


NICHOLAS  NICk'LEB  V.  C-jj 

Mrs.  Kenwigs  had  her  doubts  ;  Mr.  Kenwigs,  had  not  re- 
turned from  business  ;  and  there  was  nobody  to  take  her.  So 
Mrs.  Kenwigs  first  slapped  Miss  Kenwigs  for  being  the  cause 
of  her  vexation,  and  then  shed  tears. 

'*  You  ungrateful  child  !  "  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs.  "  After  I 
have  gone  through  what  1  have  this  night,  for  3'our  good.'' 

"  I  can't  help  it,  ma,"  replied  Morleena,  also  in  tears  ; 
"  my  hair  7c>/7/  grow." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  you  naughty  thing  !"  said  Mrs.  Ken- 
wigs, "  don't.  Even  if  I  was  to  trust  you  by  yourself  and  you 
were  to  escape  being  run  over,  I  know  you'd  run  in  to  Laura 
Chopkins,"  who  was  the  daughter  of  the  ambitious  neighbor, 
"  and  tell  her  what  you're  going  to  wear  to-morrow,  I  know 
you  would.  You've  no  proper  pride  in  yourself,  and  are  not 
to  be  trusted  out  of  sight,  for  an  instant." 

Deploring  the  evil-mindedness  of  her  eldest  daughter,  in 
these  terms,  Mrs.  Kenwigs  distilled  fresh  drops  of  vexation 
from  her  eyes,  and  declared  that  she  did  believe  there  never 
was  anybody  so  tried  as  she  was.  Thereupon,  Morleena  Ken- 
wigs wept  afresh,  and  they  bemoaned  themselves  together. 

Matters  were  at  this  point,  as  Newman  Noggs  was  heard 
to  limp  past  the  door  on  his  way  up  stairs  ;  when  Mrs.  Ken- 
wigs, gaining  new  hope  from  the  sound  of  his  footsteps,  has- 
tily removed  from  her  countenance  as  many  traces  of  her  late 
emotion  as  were  effaceable  on  so  short  a  notice,  and  present- 
ing herself  before  him,  and  representing  their  dilemma,  en- 
treated that  he  would  escort  Morleena  to  the  hair-dresser's 
shop. 

"  I  wouldn't  ask  )'0u,  Mr.  Noggs,"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  "  if 
I  didn't  know  what  a  good,  kind-hearted  creature  you  are  ; 
no,  not  for  worlds.  I  am  a  weak  constitution,  Mr.  Noggs,  but 
my  spirit  would  no  more  let  me  ask  a  favor  where  I  thought 
there  was  a  chance  of  its  being  refused,  than  it  would  let  me 
submit  to  see  my  children  trampled  down  and  trod  upon,  by 
envy  and  lowness !  " 

Newman  was  too  good-natured  not  to  have  consented, 
even  without  this  avowal  of  confidence  on  the  part  of  Mrs. 
Kenwigs.  Accordingly,  a  very  few  minutes  had  elapsed,  when 
he  and  Miss  Morleena  were  on  their  way  to  the  hair-dresser's. 

"  It  was  not  exactly  a  hair-dresser's  ;  that  is  to  say.  people 
of  a  coarse  and  vulgar  turn  of  mind  might  ha\e  called  it  a 
barber's  ;  for  they  not  only  cut  and  curled  ladies  elegantly, 
and  children  carefully,  but  shaved  gentlemen  easily.     Still,  it 


678 


NICHOLAS  NICA'LEB  Y. 


was  a  highly  genteel  establishment — quite  first-rate  in  fact — 
and  there  were  displayed  in  the  window,  besides  other  elegan- 
cies, waxen  busts  o£  a  light  lady  and  a  dark  gentleman  which 
were  the  admiration  of  the  whole  neighborhood.  Indeed, 
some  ladies  had  gone  so  far  as  to  assert,  that  the  dark  gentle- 
man was  actually  a  portrait  of  the  spirited  young  proprietor  ; 
and  the  great  similarity  between  their  head-dresses — both  wore 
very  glossy  hair,  with  a  narrow  walk  straight  down  the  middle, 
and  a  profusion  of  flat  circular  curls  on  both  sides — encour- 
aged the  idea.  The  better  informed  among  the  sex,  how- 
ever, made  light  of  this  assertion,  for  however  willing  they 
were  (and  they  were  very  willing)  to  do  full  justice  to  the 
handsome  face  and  figure  of  the  proprietor,  they  held  the 
countenance  of  the  dark  gentleman  in  the  window  to  be  an 
exquisite  and  abstract  idea  of  masculine  beauty,  realized  some- 
times, perhaps,  among  angels  and  military  men,  but  very  rarely 
embodied  to  gladden  the  eyes  of  mortals. 

It  was  to  this  establishment  that  Newman  Noggs  led  Miss 
Kenwigs  in  safety.  The  proprietor,  knowing  that  Miss  Ken- 
wigs  had  three  sisters,  each  with  two  flaxen  tails,  and  all  good 
for  sixpence  a-piece,  once  a  month  at  least,  promptly  deserted 
an  old  gentleman  whom  he  had  just  lathered  for  shaving,  and 
handing  him  o\er  to  the  journeyman  (who  was  not  very  pop- 
ular among  the  ladies,  by  reason  of  his  obesity  and  middle 
age)  waited  on  the  young  lady  himself. 

Just  as  this  change  had  been  effected,  there  presented 
himself  for  shaving,  a  big,  burly,  good-humored  coal-heaver 
with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  who,  drawing  his  hand  across  his 
chin,  requested  to  know  when  a  shaver  would  be  disengaged. 

The  journeyman  to  whom  this  question  was  put,  looked 
doubtfully  at  the  young  proprietor,  and  the  young  proprietor 
looked  scornfully  at  the  coal-heaver  :  observing,  at  the  same 
time  : 

"  You  won't  get  shaved  here,  my  man." 

'  Why  not  ?  "  said  the  coal-heaver. 

"  Wedon't  shave  gentlemen  in  your  line,"  remarked  the 
young  proprietor. 

"  Why,  I  see  you  a  shaving  of  a  baker,  when  I  was  a-look- 
ing  through  the  winder,  last  week,"  said  the  coal-heaver. 

"  It's  necessary  to  draw  the  line  somewheres,  my  fine  feller," 
replied  the  principal.  "  We  draw  the  line  there.  We  can't 
go  beyond  bakers.  If  we  was  to  get  any  lower  than  bakers, 
our  customers  would  desert  us,  and  we  might  shut  up  shop. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  679 

You  must  try  some  other  establishment,  sir.     We  couldn't  do 
it  here." 

The  applicant  stared  ;  grinned  at  Newman  Noggs,  who 
appeared  highly  entertained  ;  looked  slightly  round  the  shop, 
as  if  in  depreciation  of  the  pomatum  pots  and  other  articles  of 
stock  ;  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and  gave  a  very  loud 
whistle  ;  and  then  put  it  in  again,  and  walked  out. 

The  old  gentleman  who  had  just  been  lathered,  and  who 
was  sitting  in  a  melancholv  manner  with  his  face  turned  to- 
wards  the  wall,  appeared  quite  unconscious  of  this  incident, 
and  to  be  insensible  to  everything  around  him  in  the  depth  of 
a  reverie — a  very  mournful  one,  to  judge  from  the  sighs  he 
occasionally  vented — in  which  he  was  absorbed.  Affected  by 
this  example,  the  proprietor  began  to  clip  Miss  Kenwigs,  the 
journeyman  to  scrape  the  old  gentleman,  and  Newman  Noggs 
to  read  last  Sunday's  paper,  all  three  in  silence  :  when  Miss 
Kenwigs  uttered  a  shrill  little  scream,  and  Newman,  raising 
his  eyes,  saw  that  it  had  been  elicited  by  the  circumstance  of 
the  old  gentleman  turning  his  head,  and  disclosing  the  fea- 
tures of  Mr.  Lilly vick  the  collector. 

The  features  of  Mr.  Lillyvick  they  were,  but  strangely  al- 
tered. If  ever  an  old  gentleman  had  made  a  point  of  appear- 
ing in  public,  shaved  close  and  clean,  that  old  gentleman  was 
Mr.  Lillyvick.  If  ever  a  collector  had  borne  himself  like  a 
collector,  and  assumed  before  all  men  a  solemn  and  porten- 
tous dignity  as  if  he  had  the  world  on  his  books  and  it  was 
all  two  quarters  in  arrear,  that  collector  was  Mr.  Lillpdck. 
And  now,  there  he  sat,  with  the  remains  of  a  beard  at  least  a 
week  old,  encumbering  his  chin  ;  a  soiled  and  Crumpled  shirt- 
frill  crouching,  as  it  were,  upon  his  breast,  instead  of  standing 
boldly  out  ;  a  demeanor  so  abashed  and  drooping,  so  despon- 
dent, and  expressive  of  humiliation,  grief,  and  shame  ;  that  if 
the  souls  of  forty  unsubstan.tial  housekeepers,  all  of  whom  had 
their  water  cut  off  for  non-payment  of  the  rate,  could  have 
been  concentrated  in  one  body,  that  one  body  could  hardly 
have  expressed  such  mortification  and  defeat  as  were  now  ex- 
pressed in  the  person  of  Mr.  Lillyvick  the  collector. 

Newman  Noggs  pronounced  his  name,  and  Mr.  Lillyvick 
groaned  ;  then  coughed  to  hide  it.  But  the  groan  was  a  full- 
sized  groan,  and  the  cough  was  but  a  wheeze. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter? ''  said  Newman  Noggs. 
"  Matter,  sir !  "  cried  Mr.  Lillyvick.     "  The  plug  of  life  is 
dry,  sir,  and  but  the  mud  is  ieft." 


68  o  NIC  HO  L  A  S  NICKL  EB  Y. 

This  speech — the  style  of  which  Newman  attributed  to 
Mr.  Lillyvick's  recent  association  with  theatrical  characters — 
not  being  quite  explanatory,  Newman  looked  as  if  he  were 
about  to  ask  another  question,  when  Mr.  Lillyvick  prevented 
him  by  shaking  his  hand  mournfully,  and  then  waving  his  own. 

"  Let  me  be  shaved  !  "  said  Mr.  Lillyvick.  "  It  shall  be 
done  before  Morleena  ;  it  is  Morleena,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Newman. 

"  Kenwigses  have  got  a  boy,  haven't  they.?"  inquired  the 
collector. 

Again  Newman  said  "  Yes." 

"  Is  it  a  nice  boy  ?  "  demanded  the  collector. 

"  It  ain't  a  very  nasty  one,"  returned  Newman,  rather  em- 
barrassed by  the  question. 

"  Susan  Kenwigs  used  to  say,"  observed  the  collector, 
"  that  if  ever  she  had  another  boy,  she  hoped  it  might  be  like 
me.     Is  this  one  like  me,  Mr.  ,Noggs  t  " 

This  was  a  puzzling  inquiry ;  iDut  Newman  evaded  it,  by 
replying  to  Mr.  Lillyvick,  that  he  thought  the  baby  might  pos- 
sibly come  like  him  in  time. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  have  somebody  like  me,  somehow," 
said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  "before  I  die." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  do  that,  yet  awhile  ?  "  said  Newman. 

Unto  which  Mr.  Lillyvick  replied  in  a  solemn  voice,  "  Let 
me  be  shaved  !  "  and  again  consigning  himself  to  the  hands 
of  the  journeyman,  said  no  more. 

This  was  remarkable  behavior.  So  remarkable  did  it 
seem  to  Miss  Morleena,  that  that  young  lady,  at  the  imminent 
hazard  of  having  her  ear  sliced  off,  had  not  been  able  to  for- 
bear looking  round,  some  score  of  times,  during  the  foregoing 
colloquy.  Of  her,  however,  Mr.  Lillyvick  took  no  notice  ; 
rather  striving  (so,  at  least,  it  seemed  to  Newman  Noggs)  to 
evade  her  observation,  and  to  shrink  into  himself  whenever 
he  attracted  her  regards.  Newman  wondered  very  much 
what  could  have  occasioned  this  altered  behavior  on  the  part 
of  the  collector  ;  but,  philosophically  reflecting  that  he  would 
most  likely  know,  sooner  or  later,  and  that  he  could  perfectly 
afford  to  wait,  he  was  very  little  disturbed  by  the  singularity 
of  the  old  gentleman's  deportment. 

The  cutting  and  curling  being  at  last  concluded,  the  old 
gentleman,  who  had  been  some  time  waiting,  rose  to  go,  and 
walking  out  with  Newman  and  his  charge,  took  Newman's 
arm,  and  proceeded  for  some  time  without  making  any  obser- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  68 1 

vation.  Newman,  who  in  power  of  taciturnity  was  excelled 
by  few  people,  made  no  attempt  to  break  silence  ;  and  so  they 
went  on,  until  they  had  very  nearly  reached  Miss  Morleena's 
home,  when  Mr.  Lillyvick  said  : 

"  Were  the  Kenwigses  very  much  overpowered,  Mr.  Noggs, 
by  that  news  ?  " 

"  What  news  ?  "  returned  Newman. 

"  That  about — my — being " 

"  Married  ?  "  suggested  Newman. 

"Ah!"  replied  "Mr.  Lillyvick,  with  another  groan:  this 
time  not  even  disguised  by  a  wheeze. 

"  It  made  ma  cry  when  she  knew  it,"  interposed  Miss  Mor- 
leena,  "  but  we  kept  it  from  her  for  a  long  time  ;  and  pa  was 
very  low  in  his  spirits,  but  he  is  better  now  ;  and  I  was  very 
ill,  but  I  am  better  too." 

"  Would  you  give  your  great-uncle  Lillyvick  a  kiss  if  he 
was  to  ask  you,  Morleena  ?""  said  the  collector,  with  some 
hesitation. 

"Yes  ;  uncle  Lillyvick,  I  would,"  returned  Miss  Morleena, 
with  the  energy  of  both. her  parents  combined;  "but  not 
aunt  Lillyvick.  She's  not  an  aunt  of  mine,  and  I'll  never  call 
her  one." 

Immediately  upon  the  utterance  of  these  words,  Mr.  Lilly- 
vick caught  Miss  Morleena  up  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her ; 
and,  being  by  this  time  at  the  door  of  the  house  where  Mr. 
Kenwigs  lodged  (which,  as  has  been  before  mentioned,  usually 
stood  wide  open),  he  walked  straight  up  into  Mr.  Kenwigs's 
sitting-room,  and  put  Miss  Morleena  down  in  the  midst.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Kenwigs  were  at  supper.  At  sight  of  their  per- 
jured relative,  M^rs.  Kenwigs  turned  faint  and  pale,  and  Mr. 
Kenwigs  rose  majestically. 

"  Kenwigs,"  said  the  collector,  "shake  hands." 
"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  "  the  time  has  been,  when  I  was 
proud  to  shake  hands  with  such  a  man  as  that  man  as  now 
surways  me.  The  time  has  been,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs, 
"when  a  wisit  from  that  man  has  excited  in  me  and  my  fam- 
ily's boozums  sensations  both  nateral  and  awakening.  But, 
now,  I  look  upon  that  man  with  emotions  totally  surpassing 
everythink,  and  I  ask  myself  where  is  his  //onor,  where  is  his 
straight-for'ardness,  and  where  is  his  human  natur  ?  " 

""^Susan  Kenwigs,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  turning  humbly  to 
his  niece,  "  don't  you  say  anything  to  me  ?  " 

"  She  is  not  equal  to  it^  sir,'^  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  striking 


682  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

the  table  emphatically.  "  What  with  the  nursing  or  a  healthy 
babby,  and  the  reflections  upon  your  cruel  conduct,  four  pints 
of  malt  liquor  a  day  is  hardly  able  to  sustain  her." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  the  poor  collector  meekly,  "  that  the 
baby  is  a  healthy  one.     I  am  very  glad  of  that." 

This  was  touching  the  Kenwigses  on  their  tenderest  point. 
Mrs.  Kenwigs  instantly  burst  into  tears,  and  Mr.  Kenwigs 
evinced  great  emotion. 

"  My  pleasantest  feeling,  all  the  time  that  child  was  ex- 
pected," said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  mournfully,  "  was  a  thinking,  *  if 
it's  a  boy,  as  I  hope  it  may  be  ;  for  I  have  heard  its  uncle 
Lillyvick  say  again  and  again  he  would  prefer  our  having  a 
boy  next,  if  it's  a  boy,  what  will  his  uncle  Lillyvick  say? 
What  will  he  like  him  to  be  called }  Will  he  be  Peter,  or 
Alexander,  or  Pompey,  or  Diorgeenes,  or  what  will  he  be  ?  ' 
And  now  when  I  look  at  him  ;  a  precious  unconscious  help- 
less infant,  with  no  use  in  his  little  arms  but  to  tear  his  little 
cap,  and  no  use  in  his  little  legs  but  to  kick  his  little  self — 
when  I  see  him  a-lying  on  his  mother's  lap,  cooing  and  coo- 
ing, and,  in  his  innocent  state,  almost  a  choking  hisself  with 
his  little  fist— when  I  see  him  such  a  infant  as  he  is,  and  think 
that  that  uncle  Lillyvick,  as  was  once  a  going  to  be  so  fond  of 
him,  has  withdrawed  himself  away,  such  a  feeling  of  wenge- 
ance  comes  over  me  as  no  language  can  depicter,  and  I 
feel  as  if  even  that  holy  babe  was  a  telling  me  to  hate  him." 

This  affecting  picture  moved  Mrs.  Kenwigs  deeply.  After 
several  imperfect  \vords,  which  vainly  attempted  to  struggle  to 
the  surface,  but  were  drowned  and  washed  away  by  the  strong- 
tide  of  her  tears,  she  spake. 

"Uncle,"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  "  to  think  that  you  should 
have  turned  your  back  upon  me  and  my  dear  children,  and 
upon  Kenwigs  which  is  the  author  of  their  being — you  who 
was  once  so  kind  and  affectionate,  and  who,  if  anybody  had 
told  us  such  a  thing  of,  we  should  have  withered  with  scorn 
like  lightning — you  that  little  Lillyvick,  our  first  and  earliest 
boy,  was  named  after  at  the  very  altar  !     Oh  gracious  I  " 

"Was  it  money  that  we  cared  for?"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs. 
"Was  it  property  that  we  ever  thought  of  ?  "' 

"No,"  cried  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  "I  scorn  it.'' 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  "  and  I  always  did." 

"  My  feelings  have  been  lancerated,"  said  Mrs.  Kenwigs, 
"  My  heart  has  been  torn  asunder  with  anguish,  I  have  been 
thrown  back   in   my  confinement,  my  unoffending  infant  has 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEBY.  683 

been  rendered  uncomfortable  and  fractious,  Morleena  has 
pined  herself  away  to  nothing ;  all  this  1  forget  and  forgive, 
and  with  you,  uncle,  I  never  can  quarrel.  But  never  ask  me 
to  receive  her,  never  do  it,  uncle.  For  I  will  not,  I  will  not, 
I  won't,  I  won't,  I  won't !  " 

"Susan,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  "consider  your 
child." 

"  Yes,"  shrieked  Mrs.  Kenwigs,  "  I  will  consider  my  child  ! 
I  will  consider  my  child  !  My  own  child,  that  no  uncles  can 
deprive  me  of  ;  my  own  hated,  despised,  deserted,  cut-off  little 
child."  And  here  the  emotions  of  Mrs.  Kenwigs  became  so 
violent,  that  Mr.  Kenwigs  was  fain  to  administer  hartshorn 
internally,  and  vinegar  externally,  and  to  destroy  a  staylace, 
four  petticoat  strings,  and  several  small  buttons. 

Newman  had  been  a  silent  spectator  of  this  scene  ;  for 
Mr.  Lilly\ick  had  signed  to  him  not  to  withdraw,  and  Mr. 
Kenwigs  had  further  solicited  his  presence  by  a  nod  of  invita- 
tion. When  Mrs.  Kenwigs  had  been,  in  some  degree,  re- 
stored, and  Newman,  as  a  person  possessed  of  some  influ- 
ence with  her,  had  remonstrated  and  begged  her  to  compose 
herself,  Mr  Lillyvick  said  in  a  faltering  voice  : 

"  I  never  shall  ask  anybody  here  to  receive  my —  I  needn't 
mention  the  word  ;  you  know  what  I  mean.  Kenwigs  and 
Susan,  yesterday  was  a  week  she  eloped  with  a  half-pay  cap- 
tain !  " 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kenwigs  started  together. 

"  Eloped  with  a  half-pay  captain,''  repeated  Mr.  Lillyvick, 
"  basely  and  falsely  eloped  with  a  half-pay  captain.  \Vith  a 
bottle-nosed  captain  that  any  man  might  have  considered  him- 
self safe  from.  It  was  in  this  room,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick, 
looking  sternly  round,  "  that  I  first  see  Henrietta  Petowker. 
It  is  in  this  room  that  I  turn  her  off,  for  ever." 

This  declaration  completely  changed  the  whole  posture  of 
affairs.  Mrs.  Kenwigs  threw  herself  upon  the  old  gentleman's 
neck,  bitterly  reproaching  herself  for  her  late  harshness,  and 
exclaiming  if  she  had  suffered,  what  must  his  sufferings  have 
been !  Mr.  Kenwigs  grasped  his  hand,  and  vowed  eternal 
friendship  and  remorse.  Mrs.  Kenwigs  was  horror-stricken 
to  think  that  she  should  ever  have  nourished  in  her  bosom  such 
a  snake,  adder,  viper,  serpent,  and  base  crocodile,  as  Hen- 
rietta Petowker.  Mr.  Kenwigs  argued  that  she  must  have 
been  bad  indeed  not  to  have  improved  by  so  long  a  contem- 
plation of  Mrs.  Kenwigs's  virtues.     Mrs,  Kenwigs  remembered 


684  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

that  Mr.  Kenwigs  had  often  said  that  lie  was  not  quite  satis- 
fied of  the  propriet)'  of  Miss  Petowker's  conduct,  and  won- 
dered how  it  was  that  she  could  have  been  blinded  by  such 
a  wretch.  Mr.  Kenwigs  remembered  that  he  had  had  his  sus- 
picions, but  did  not  wonder  why  Mrs.  Kenwigs  had  not  had 
hers,  as  she  was  all  chastity,  purity,  and  truth,  and  Henrietta  all 
baseness,  falsehood,  and  deceit.  And  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kenwigs 
both  said,  with  strong  feelings  and  tears  of  sympathy,  that 
everything  happened  for  the  best ;  and  conjured  the  good 
collector  not  to  give  way  to  unavailing  grief,  but  to  seek  con- 
solation in  the  society  of  those  affectionate  relations  whose 
arms  and  hearts  were  ever  open  to  him.. 

"Out  of  affection  and  regard  for  you,  Susan  and  Kenwigs," 
said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  "  and  not  out  of  revenge  and  spite  against 
her,  for  she  is  below  it,  I  shall,  to-morrow  morning,  settle 
upon  your  children,  and  make  payable  to  the  survivors  of 
them  when  they  come  of  age  or  marr}%  that  money  which  I 
once  meant  to  leave  'em  in  my  will.  The  deed  shall  be  ex- 
ecuted to-morrow,  and  Mr.  Noggs  shall  be  one  of  the  wit- 
nesses.    He  hears  me  promise  this,  and  he  shall  see  it  done." 

Overpowered  by  this  noble  and  generous  offer,  Mr.  Ken- 
wigs, Mrs.  Kenwigs,  and  Miss  Morleena  Kenwigs,  all  began 
to  sob  together  ;  and  the  noise  of  their  sobbing,  communicat- 
ing itself  to  the  next  room  where  the  children  lay  a-bed,  and 
causing  them  to  cry  too,  Mr.  Kenwigs  rushed  wildly  in,  and 
bringing  them  out  in  his  arms,  by  two  and  two,  tumbled  them 
down  in  their  nightcaps  and  gowns  at  the  feet  of  Mr.  Lilly- 
vick, and  called  upon  them  to  thank  and  bless  him. 

"And  now,"  said  Mr.  Lillyvick,  when  a  heart-rending 
scene  had  ensued  and  the  children  were  cleared  away  again, 
"  Give  me  some  supper.  This  took  place  twenty  mile  from 
town.  I  came  up  this  morning,  and  have  been  lingering 
about,  all  day,  without  being  able  to  make  up  my  mind  to 
come  and  see  you.  I  humored  her  in  everything,  she  had  her 
own  way,  she  did  just  as  she  pleased,  and  now  she  has  done 
this.  There  was  twelve  teaspoons  and  twenty-four  pound  in 
sovereigns — I  missed  them  first — it's  a  trial — I  feel  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  knock  a  double  knock  again,  when  I  go  my 
rounds — don't  say  anything  more  about  it,  please — the  spoons 
were  worth — never  mind — never  mind  !  " 

With  such  muttered  outpourings  as  these,  the  old  gentle- 
man shed  a  few  tears  ;  but,  they  got  him  into  the  elbow-chair, 
and  prevailed  upon   him,  without  much  pressing,  to  make  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


685 


rty  supper,  and  by  the  time  he  had  finished  his  first  pipe 
and  disposed  of  half  a  dozen  glasses  out  of  a  crown  bowl  of 
punch,  ordered  by  Mr.  Kenwigs,  in  celebration  of  his  return 
to  the  bosom  of  his  family,  he  seemed,  though  still  very  hum- 
ble, quite  resigned  to  his  fate,  and  rather  relieved  than  other- 
wise by  the  llight  of  his  wife. 

"  When  I  see  that  man,"  said  Mr.  Kenwigs,  with  one 
hand  round  Mrs.  Kenwigs's  waist,  his  other  hand  supporting 
his  pipe  (which  made  him  wink  and  cough  very  much,  for  he 
was  no  smoker),  and  his  eyes  on  Morleena,  who  sat  upon  her 
uncle's  knee,  "  when  I  see  that  man  a  mingling,  once  again, 
in  the  spear  which  he  adorns,  and  see  his  affections  dewelop- 
ing  themselves  in  legitimate  sitiwations,  I  feel  that  his  nature 
is  as  elewated  and  expanded,  as  his  standing  afore  society  as 
a  public  character  is  unimpeached,  and  the  woices  of  my  in- 
fant cliildren  purvided  for  in  life,  seem  to  whisper  to  me 
softly,   '  This  is  an  ewent  at  which  Evins  itself  looks  down  ! '  " 


CHAPTER  LIII. 


CONTAINING     THE      FURTHER     PROGRESS      OF     THE     PLOT     CON- 
TRIVED   BY    MR.  RALPH  NICKLEBY   AND  MR.  ARTHUR    GRIDE. 

With  that  settled  resolution  and  steadiness  of  purpose  to 
which  extreme  circumstances  so  often  give  birth,  acting  upon 
far  less  excitable  and  more  sluggish  temperaments  than  that 
which  was  the  lot  of  Madeline  Bray's  admirer,  Nicholas 
started,  at  dawn  of  day,  from  the  restless  couch  which  no 
sleep  had  visited  on  the  previous  night,  and  prepared  to  make 
that  last  appeal,  by  whose  slight  and  fragile  thread  her  only 
remaining  hope  of  escape  depended. 

Although  to  restless  and  ardent  minds,  morning  may  be 
the  fitting  season  for  exertion  and  activity,  it  is  not  always  at 
that  time  that  hope  is  strongest  or  the  spirit  most  sanguine 
and  buoyant.  In  trying  and  doubtful  positions,  youth,  cus- 
tom, a  steady  contemplation  of  the  difticulties  which  surround 
us,  and  a  familiarity  with  them,  imperceptibly  diminish  our  ap- 
prehensions and  beget  comparative  indifference,  if  not  a  vague 
and  reckless  confidence  in  some  relief  the  means  or  nature  of 


686  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBYs 

which  we  care  not  to  foresee.  But  when  we  come,  fresh, 
upon  .such  things  in  tlie  morning,  with  that  dark  and  silent 
gap  between  us  and  yesterday ;  with  every  link  in  the  brittle 
chain  of  hope,  to  rivet  afresh  ;  our  hot  enthusiasm  subdued, 
and  cool  calm  reason  substituted  in  its  stead  ;  doubt  and  mis- 
giving revive.  As  the  traveller  sees  farthest,  by  day,  and 
becomes  aware  of  rugged  mountains  and  trackless  plains 
which  the  friendly  darkness  had  shrouded  from  his  sight  and 
mind  together,  so,  the  wayfarer  in  the  toilsome  path  of  human 
life,  sees,  with  each  returning  sun,"  some  new  obstacle  to  sur- 
mount, some  new  height  to  be  attained.  Distances  stretch  out 
before  him  which,  last  night,  were  scarcely  taken  into  account, 
and  the  light  which  gilds  all  nature  with  its  cheerful  beams, 
seems  but  to  shine  upon  the  weary  obstacles  that  yet  lie 
strewn  between  him  and  the  grave. 

So  thought  Nicholas,  when,  with  the  impatience  natural  to 
a  situation  like  his,  he  softly  left  the  house,  and,  feeling  as 
though  to  remain  in  bed  were  to  lose  most  precious  time, 
and  to  be  up  and  stirring  were  in  some  way  to  promote  the 
end  he  had  in  view,  wandered  into  London  ;  perfectly  well 
knowing  that  for  hours  to  come  he  could  not  obtain  speech 
with  Ma  le!i:ie,  and  could  do  nothing  but  wish  the  intervening 
time  away. 

And,  even  now,  as  he  paced  the  streets,  and  listlessly  look- 
ed round  on  the  gradually  increasing  bustle  and  preparation 
for  the  day,  everything  appeared  to  yield  him  some  new  occa- 
sion for  despondency.  Last  night,  the  sacrifice  of  a  young, 
affectionate,  and  beautiful  creature,  to  such  a  wretch,  and  in 
such  a  cause,  had  seemed  a  thing  too  monstrous  to  succeed ; 
and  the  warmer  he  grew,  the  more  confident  he  felt  that  some 
interposition  must  save  her  from  his  clutches.  But  now,  when 
he  thought  how  regularly  things  went  on,  from  day  to  day,  in 
the  same  unvarying  round  ;  how  youth  and  beauty  died,  and 
ugly  griping  age  lived  tottering  on  \  how  crafty  avarice  grew 
rich,  and  manly  honest  hearts  were  poor  and  sad  ;  how  few  they 
were  who  tenaated  the  stately  houses,  and  how  many  those 
who  lay  in  noisome  pens,  or  rose  each  day  and  laid  them 
down  each  night,  and  lived  and  died,  father  and  son,  mother 
and  child,  race  upon  race,  generation  upon  generation, without 
a  home  to  shelter  them  or  the  energies  of  one  single  man  di- 
rected to  their  aid  ;  how,  in  seeking,  not  a  luxurious  and 
splendid  life,  but  the  bare  means  of  a  most  wretched  and  in- 
adequate subsistence,  there  were  women  and  children  in  that 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEBY.  687 

one  town,  divided  into  classes,  numbered  and  estimated  as  reg- 
ularly as  the  noble  families  and  folks  of  great  degree,  and 
reared  from  infancy  to  drive  most  criminal  and  dreadful 
trades  ;  how  ignorance  was  punished  and  never  taught  ;  how 
jail-doors  gaped  and  gallows  loomed,  for  thousands  urged 
towards  them  by  circumstances  darkly  curtaining  their  very 
cradles'  heads,  and  but  for  which  they  might  have  earned 
their  honest  bread  and  lived  in  peace  ;  how  many  died  in 
soul,  and  had  no  chance  of  life  ;  how  many  who  could  scarcely 
go  astray,  be  they  vicious  as  they  would,  turned  haughtily  from 
the  crushed  and  stricken  wretch  who  could  scarce  do  otherwise, 
and  who  would  have  been  a  greater  wonder  had  he  or  she  done 
well,  than  even  they  had  they  done  ill  ;  how  much  injustice, 
misery,  and  wrong,  there  was,  and  yet  how  the  world  rolled 
on,  from  year  to  year,  alike  careless  and  indifferent,  and  no 
man  seeking  to  remedy  or  redress  it  ;  when  he  thought  of  all 
this,  and  selected  from  the  mass  the  one  slight  case  on  which 
his  thoughts  were  bent,  he  felt,  indeed,  that  there  was  little 
ground  for  hope,  and  little  reason  why  it  should  not  form  an 
atom  in  the  huge  aggregate  of  distress  and  sorrow,  and  add 
one  small  and  unimportant  unit  to  swell  the  great  amount. 

But  youth  is  not  prone  to  contemplate  the  darkest  side  of 
a  picture  it  can  shift  at  will.  By  dint  of  reflecting  on  what  he 
had  to  do,  and  reviving  the  train  of  thought  which  night  had 
interrupted,  Nicholas  gradually  summoned  up  his  utmost 
energy,  and  when  the  morning  was  sufficiently  advanced  for 
his  purpose,  had  no  thought  but  that  of  using  it  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage. A  hasty  breakfast  taken,  and  such  affairs  of  busi- 
ness as  required  prompt  attention  disposed  of,  he  directed  his 
steps  to  the  residence  of  Madeline  Bray  :  whither  he  lost  no 
time  in  arriving. 

It  had  occurred  to  him  that,  very  possibly,  the  young  lady 
might  be  denied,  although  to  him  she  never  had  been  ;  and 
he  was  still  pondering  upon  the  surest  method  of  obtaining 
access  to  her  in  that  case,  when  coming  to  the  door  of  the 
house,  he  found  it  had  been  left  ajar — probably  by  the  last  per- 
son who  had  gone  out.  The  occasion  was  not  one  upon  which 
to  observe  the  nicest  ceremony  ;  therefore,  availing  himself  of 
this  advantage,  Nicholas  walked  gently  up  stairs  and  knocked 
at  the  door  of  the  room  into  which  he  had  been  accustomed 
to  be  shown.  Receiving  permission  to  enter,  from  some  per- 
son on  the  other  side,  he  opened  the  door  and  walked  in. 

Bray  and  his  daughter  were  sitting  there   alone.     It  was 


688  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

nearly  three  weeks  since  he  had  seen  her  last,  but  there  was  a 
chan'^e  ia  the  lovely  girl  before  him  which  told  Nicholas,  in 
startling  terms,  how  much  mental  suffering  had  been  com- 
pressed into  that  short  time.  There  are  no  words  which  can 
express,  nothing  with  which  can  be  compared,  the  perfect 
pallor,  the  clear  transparent  whiteness,  of  the  beautiful  face 
which  turned  towards  him  when  he  entered.  Her  hair  was  a 
rich  deep  brown,  but  shading  that  face,  and  straying  upon  a 
neck  that  rivalled  in  whiteness,  it  seemed  by  the  strong  con- 
trast raven  black.  Something  of  wildness  and  restlessness 
there  was  in  the  dark  eye,  but  there  was  the  same  patient  look, 
the  same  expression  of  gentle  mournfulness  which  he  well  re- 
membered, and  no  trace  of  a  single  tear.  Most  beautiful, — 
more  beautiful,  perhaps,  than  ever — there  was  something  in  her 
face  which  quite  unmanned  him,  and  appeared  far  more  touching 
than  the  wildest  agony  of  grief.  It  was  not  merely  calm  and 
composed,  but  fixed  and  rigid,  as  though  the  violent  effort 
which  had  summoned  that  composure  beneath  her  father's  eye, 
while  it  mastered  all  other  thoughts,  had  prevented  even  the 
momentary  expression  they  had  communicated  to  the  features 
from  subsiding,  and  had  fastened  it  there,  as  an  evidence  of  its 
triumph. 

The  father  sat  opposite  to  her  ;  not  looking  dirqctly  in 
her  face,  but  glancing  at  her,  as  he  talked  with  a  gay  air  which 
ill  disguised  the  anxiety  of  his  thoughts.  The  drawing  ma- 
terials were  not  on  their  accustomed  table,  nor  were  any  of  the 
other  tokens  of  her  usual  occupations  to  be  seen.  The  little 
vases  which  Nicholas  had  always  seen  filled  with  fresh  flowers, 
were  empty,  or  supplied  only  with  a  few  withered  stalks  and 
leaves.  The  bird  was  silent.  The  cloth  that  covered  his  cage 
at  night,  was  not  removed.  His  mistress  had  forgotten  him. 
There  are  times  when  the  mind,  being  painfully  alive  to  re- 
ceive impressions,  a  great  deal  may  be  noted  at  a  glance. 
This  was  one,  for  Nicholas  had  but  glanced  round  him  when 
he  was  recognized  by  Mr.  Bray,  who  said  impatiently : 

"  Now,  sir,  what  do  you  want ,?  Name  your  errand  here, 
quickly,  if  you  please,  for  my  daughter  and  I  are  busily  engaged 
with  other  and  more  important  matters  than  those  you  come 
about.  Come,  sir,  address  yourself  to  your  business  at  once." 
Nicholas  could  very  well  discern  that  the  irritability  and 
ini]3alience  of  this  speech  were  assumed,  and  that  Bray,  in  his 
heart,  was  rejoiced  at  anv  interruption  which  promised  to  en- 
gage the  attention  of  his  daughter.     He  bent  his  eyes  invol- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  689 

untarily  upon  the  father  as  he  spoke,  and  marked  his  uneasi- 
ness ;  for  he  colored  and  turned  his  head  away. 

The  device,  however,  so  far  as  it  was  a  device  for  causing 
Madeline  to  interfere,  was  successful.  She  rose,  and  advan- 
cing towards  Nicholas  paused  half  way,  and  stretched  out  her 
hand  as  expecting  a  letter. 

"  Madeline,"  said  her  father  impatiently  :  "my  love,  what 
are  you  doing  }  " 

"  Miss  Bray  expects  an  inclosure  perhaps,"  said  Nicholas, 
speaking  very  distinctly,  and  with  an  emphasis  she  could 
scarcely  misunderstand.  "  My  employer  is  absent  from  Eng- 
land, or  I  should  have  brought  a  letter  with  me.  I  hope  she 
will  give  me  time — a  little  time.     I  ask  a  very  little  time." 

"  If  that  is  all  you  come  about,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Bray,  "  you 
may  make  yourself  easy  on  that  head.  Madeline,  my  dear, 
I  didn't  know  this  person  was  in  your  debt .''  " 

"  A — a  tritie  I  believe,"  returned  Madeline,  faintly. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  now,"  said  Bray,  wheeling  his  chair 
round  and  confronting  Nicholas,  "that,  but  for  such  pitiful 
sums  as  you  bring  here,  because  my  daughter  has  chosen  to 
employ  her  time  as  she  has,  we  should  starve  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  thought  about  it,"  returned  Nicholas. 

"  You  have  not  thought  about  it !  "  sneered  the  invalid. 
"  You  know  you  have  thought  about  it.  and  have  thought  that, 
and  think  so  every  time  you  come  here.  Do  you  suppose, 
young  man,  that  I  don't  know  what  little  purse-proud  trades- 
men are,  when,  through  some  fortunate  circumstances,  they  get 
the  upper  hand  for  a  brief  day — or  think  they  get  the  upper 
hand — of  a  gentleman  ?  " 

"My  business,"  said  Nicholas  respectfully,  "is  with  a 
lady." 

"  With  a  gentleman's  daughter,  sir,"  returned  the  sick 
man,  "  and  the  pettifogging  spirit  is  the  same.  But  perhaps 
you  bring  orders  eh  ?  Have  you  any  fresh  orders  for  my 
daughter,  sir .?  " 

Nicholas  understood  the  tone  of  triumph  in  which  this 
interrogatory  was  put ;  but,  remembering  the  necessity  of 
supporting  his  assumed  character,  produced  a  scrap  of  paper 
purporting  to  contain  a  list  of  some  subjects  for  drawings 
which  his  employer  desired  to  have  executed  ;  and  with  which 
he  had  prepared  himself  in  case  of  any  such  contingency. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Mr.  Bray.  "  These  are  the  orders,  are 
they  ? " 

44 


690 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  Since  you  insist  upon  the  term,  sir,  yes,"  replied  Nich- 
olas. 

"  Then  you  may  tell  your  master,"  said  Bray,  tossing  the 
paper  back  again,  with  an  exulting  smile,  "  that  my  daughter, 
Miss  Madeline  Bray,  condescends  to  employ  herself  no  longer 
in  such  labors  as  these  ;  that  she  is  not  at  his  beck  and  call, 
as  he  supposes  her  to  be  ;  that  we  don't  live  upon  his  money, 
as  he  flatters  himself  we  do  ;  that  he  may  give  whatever  he 
owes  us,  to  the  first  beggar  who  passes  his  shop,  or  add  it  to 
his  own  profits  next  time  he  calculates  them  ;  and  that  he  may 
go  to  the  devil,  for  me.  That's  my  acknowledgment  of  his 
orders,  sir  !  " 

"  And  this  is  the  independence  of  a  man  who  sells  his 
daughter  as  he  has  sold  that  weeping  girl  !  "  thought  Nicholas. 

The  father  was  too  much  absorbed  with  his  own  exultation 
to  mark  the  look  of  scorn  which,  for  an  instant,  Nicholas  could 
not  have  suppressed  had  he  been  upon  the  rack.  "  There," 
he  continued,  after  a  short  silence,  "  you  have  your  message 
and  can  retire — unless  you  have  any  further — ha  ! — any  further 
orders." 

"I  have  none,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "  nor  in  consideration  of 
the  station  you  once  held,  have  I  used  that  or  any  other  word 
which,  however  harmless  in  itself,  could  be  supposed  to  imply 
authority  on  my  part  or  dependence  on  yours.  I  have  no 
orders,  but  I  have  fears — fears  that  I  will  express,  chafe  as 
you  may-^fears  that  you  may  be  consigning  that  young  lady 
to  something  worse  than  supporting  you  by  the  labor  of  her 
hands,  had  she  worked  herself  dead.  These  are  my  fears, 
and  these  fears  I  found  upon  your  own  demeanor.  Your 
conscience  will  tell  you,  sir,  wdiether  I  construe  it  well  or 
not." 

,    "  For   Heaven's   sake ! "    cried   Madeline,   interposing  in 
alarm  between  them.     "  Remember,  sir,  he  is  ill." 

"  111  !  "  cried  the  invalid,  gasping  and  catching  for  breath, 
"111!  ill  !  I  am  bearded  and  bullied  by  a  shopboy,  and  she 
beseeches  him  to  pity  me  and  remember  I  am  ill  !  " 

He  fell  into  a  paroxysm  of  his  disorder,  so  violent  that 
for  a  few  moments  Nicholas  was  alarmed  for  his  life  ;  but 
finding  that  he  began  to  recover,  he  withdrew,  after  signifying 
by  a  gesture  to  the  young  lady  that  he  had  something  impor- 
tant to  communicate,  and  would  wait  for  her  outside  the  room. 
He  could  hear  that  the  sick  man  came,  gradually,  but  slowly 
to  himself,  and  that  without  any  reference  to  what  had  just 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  69 1 

occurred,  as  though  he  had  no   distinct  recollection  of  it,  as 
yet,  he  requested  to  be  left  alone. 

"  Oh  !  "  thought  Nicholas,  "  that  this  slender  chance  might 
not  be  lost,  and  that  I  might  prevail,  if  it  were  but  for  one 
week's  time  and  re-consideration  !  " 

"  You  are  charged  with  some  commission  to  me,  sir,"  said 
Madeline,  presenting  herself  in  great  agitation.  "  Do  not 
press  it  now,  1  beg  and  pray  you.  The  day  after  to-morrow  ; 
come  here  then." 

"  It  will  be  too  late — too  late  for  what  I  have  to  say,"  re- 
joined Nicholas,  "  and  you  will  not  be  here.  Oh,  madam,  if 
you  have  but  one  thought  of  him  who  sent  me  here,  but  one 
last  lingering  care  for  your  own  peace  of  mind  and  heart,  I  do 
for  God's  sake  urge  you  to  give  me  a  hearing." 

She  attempted  to  pass  him,  but  Nicholas  gently  detained 
her. 

"  A  hearing,"  said  Nicholas.  "  I  do  ask  you  but  to  hear 
me  :  not  me  alone,  but  him  for  whom  I  speak,  who  is  far  away 
and  does  not  know  your  danger.  In  the  name  of  Heaven 
hear  me  !  " 

The  poor  attendant,  with  her  eyes  swollen  and  red  with 
weeping,  stood  by  ;  to  her,  Nicholas  appealed  in  such  passion- 
ate terms  that  she  opened  a  side-door,  and,  supporting  her 
mistress  into  an  adjoining  room,  beckoned  Nicholas  to  follow 
them. 

"  Leave  me,  sir,  pray,"  said  the  young  lady. 
"  I  cannot,  will  not  leave  you  thus,"  returned  Nicholas. 
"  I  have  a  duty  to  discharge  ;  and,  either  here,  or  in  the  room 
from  which  we  have  just  now  come,  at  whatever  risk  or  hazard 
to  Mr.  Bray,  I  rnust  beseech  you  to  contemplate  again  the 
fearful  course  to  which  you  have  been  impelled." 

"What  course  is  this  you  speak  of,  and  impelled  by  whom, 
sir  ?  "  demanded  the  young  lady,  with  an  effort  to  speak 
proudly. 

"  I  speak  of  this  marriage,"  returned  Nicholas  ;  "of  this 
marriage,  fixed  for  to-morrow,  by  one  who  never  faltered  in  a 
bad  purpose,  or  lent  his  aid  to  any  good  design  ;  of  this  mar- 
riage, the  history  of  which  is  known  to  me,  better,  far  better, 
than  it  is  to  you.  I  know  what  web  is  wound  about  you.  I 
know  what  men  they  are  from  whom  these  schemes  have  come. 
You  are  betrayed,  and  sold  for  money ;  for  gold,  whose  every 
coin  is  rusted  with  tears,  if  not  red  with  the  blood  of  ruined 
men,  who  have  fallen  desperately  by  their  own  mad  hands." 


692  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"You  say  you  have  a  duty  to  discharge,"  said  Madeline, 
"  and  so  have  I.  And  with  the  help  of  Heaven  1  will  perform 
mine." 

"  Say  rather  with  the  help  of  devils,"  replied  Nicholas: 
"  with  the  hel])  of  men,  one  of  them  your  destmed  husband, 
who  are  " 

"I  must  not  hear  this,"  cried  the  young  lady,  striving  to 
repress  a  shudder,  occasioned,  as  it  seemed,  even  by  this 
slight  allusion  to  Arthur  Gride.  "  This  evil,  if  evil  it  be,  has 
been  of  my  own  seeking.  I  am  impelled  to  this  course  by  no 
one,  but  follow  it  of  my  own  free  will.  You  see  I  am  not  con- 
strained or  forced.  Report  this,  '  said  Madeline,  "  to  my  dear 
friend  and  benefactor,  and,  taking  with  you  my  prayers  and 
thanks  for  him  and  for  yourself,  leave  me  for  ever  !  " 

"  Not  until  I  have  besought  you,  with  all  the  earnestness 
and  fervor  by  which  I  am  animated,"  cried  Nicholas,  "  to  post- 
pone this  marriage  for  one  short  week.  Not  until  I  have  be- 
sought you  to  think,  more  deeply  than  you  can  have  done,  in- 
fluenced as  you  are,  upon  the  step  you  are  about  to  take. 
Although  you  cannot  be  fully  conscious  of  the  villany  of  this 
man  to  whom  you  are  about  to  give  your  hand,  some  of  his 
deeds  you  know.  You  have  heard  him  speak,  and  have 
looked  upon  his  face.  Rellect,  reflect  before  it  is  too  late,  on 
the  mockery  of  plighting  to  him  at  the  altar,  faith  in  which  )our 
heart  can  have  no  share — of  uttering  solemn  words,  against 
which  nature  and  reason  must  rebel — of  the  degradation  of 
yourself  in  your  own  esteem,  which  must  ensue,  and  must  be 
aggravated  every  day,  as  his  detested  character  opens  upon  you 
more  and  more.  Shrink  from  the  loathsome  companionship 
of  this  wretch  as  you  would  from  corruption  and  disease. 
Suffer  toil  and  labor  if  you  will,  but  shun  him,  shun  him,  and 
be  happy.  For,  believe  me,  I  speak  the  truth  ;  the  most 
abject  poverty,  the  most  wretched  condition  of  human  life, 
with  a  pure  and  upright  mind,  would  be  happiness  to  that 
which  you  must  undergo  as  the  wife  of  such  a  man  as  this  !  " 

Long  before  Nicholas  ceased  to  speak,  the  young  lady 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  gave  her  tears  free  way.  In 
a  voice  at  first  inarticulate  with  emotion,  but  gradually  re- 
covering strength  as  she  proceeded,  she  answered  him  : 

"  I  will  not  disguise  from  you,  sir — though  perhaps  I  ought 
— that  I  ha\e  undergone  great  pain  of  mind,  and  have  been 
nearly  broken-hearted  since  I  saw  you  last.  I  do  not  lov-e 
this  gentleman.     The  difference  between  our  ages,  tastes,  and 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


693 


habits,  forbids  it.  This  he  knows,  and  knowing,  still  offers  me 
his  hand.  By  accepting  it,  and  by  that  step  alone,  1  can  re- 
lease my  father  who  is  dying  in  this  place  ;  prolong  his  life, 
perhaps,  for  many  years  ;  restore  him  to  comfort — I  may  al- 
most call  it  affluence ;  and  relieve  a  generous  man  from  the 
burden  of  assisting  one,  by  whom,  I  grieve  to  say,  his  noble 
heart  is  little  understood.  Do  not  think  so  poorly  of  me  as  to 
believe  that  I  feign  a  love  I  do  not  feel.  Do  not  report  so  ill 
of  me,  for  that  I  could  not  bear.  If  I  cannot,  in  reason  or  in 
nature,  love  the  man  who  pays  this  price  for  my  poor  hand,  I 
can  discharge  the  duties  of  a  wife  :  I  can  be  all  he  seeks  in 
me,  and  will.  He  is  content  to  take  me  as  I  am.  I  have 
passed  my  word,  and  should  rejoice,  not  weep,  that  it  is  so. 
I  do.  The  interest  you  take  in  one  so  friendless  and  forlorn 
as  I,  the  delicacy  with  which  you  have  discharged  your  trust, 
the  faith  you  ha\e  kept  with  me,  have  my  warmest  thanks, 
and,  while  I  make  this  last  feeble  acknowledgment,  move  me 
to  tears,  as  you  see.  But  I  do  not  repent,  nor  am  I  unhappy. 
I  am  happy  in  the  prospect  of  all  I  can  achieve  so  easily.  I 
shall  be  more  so  when  I  look  back  upon  it,  and  all  is  clone,  I 
know." 

"Your  tears  fall  faster  as  you  talk  of  happiness,"  said 
Nicholas,  "  and  you  shun  the  contemplation  of  that  dark 
future  which  must  be  laden  with  so  much  misery  to  you. 
Defer  this  marriage  for  a  week.     For  but  one  week  !  " 

"  He  was  talking,  when  you  came  upon  us  just  now,  with 
such  smiles  as  I  remember  to  h^ve  seen  of  old,  and  have  not 
seen  for  many  and  many  a  day,  of  the  freedom  that  was  to 
come  to-morrow,"  said  Madeline,  with  momentary  firmness  : 
"  of  the  welcome  change,  the  fresh  air,  all  the  new  scenes  and 
objects  that  would  bring  fresh  life  to  his  exhausted  frame. 
His  eye  grew  bright,  and  his  face  lightened  at  the  thought.  T 
will  not  defer  it  for  an  hour." 

"These  are  but  tricks  and  wiles  to  urge  you  on,"  cried 
Nicholas. 

"  I'll  hear  no  more,"  said  Madeline,  hurriedly,  "  I  have 
heard  too  much — more  than  I  should — already.  What  I  have 
said  to  you,  sir,  I  have  said  as  to  that  dear  friend  to  whom  I 
trust  in  you  honorably  to  repeat  it.  Some  time  hence,  when  I 
am  more  composed  and  reconciled  to  my  new  mode  of  life,  if 
I  should  live  so  long,  I  will  write  to  him.  Meantime,  all  holy 
angels  shower  blessings  on  his  head,  and  prosper  and  preserve 
him." 


694  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

She  was  hurrying  past  Nicholas,  when  he  threw  himself 
before  her,  and  implored  her  to  think,  but  once  again,  upon 
the  fate  to  which  she  was  precipitately  hastening. 

"There  is  no  retreat,"  said  Nicholas,  in  an  agony  of  sup- 
plication, "  no  withdrawing !  All  regret  will  be  unavailing, 
and  deep  and  bitter  it  must  be.  What  can  I  say,  that  will  in- 
duce you  to  pause  at  this  last  moment !  What  can  I  do,  to 
save  you  !  " 

"  Nothing,"  she  incoherently  replied.  "  This  is  the  hardest 
trial  I  have  had.  Have  mercy  on  me,  sir,  I  beseech,  and  do 
not  pierce  my  heart  with  such  appeals  as  these.  I — I  hear 
him  calling.  I — I  must  not,  will  not,  remain  here  for  another 
instant." 

"  If  this  were  a  plot,"  said  Nicholas,  with  the  same  vio- 
lent rapidity  with  which  she  spoke,  "  a  plot,  not  yet  laid 
bare  by  me,  but  which  with  time  I  might  unravel ;  if  you  were 
(not  knowing  it)  entitled  to  fortune  of  your  own,  which,  being 
recovered,  would  do  all  that  this  marriage  can  accomplish, 
would  you  not  retract .''  " 

"  No,  no  no !  It  is  impossible  ;  it  is  a  child's  tale.  Time 
would  bring  his  death.     He  is  calling  again  !  " 

"It  may  be  the  last  time  we  shall  ever  meet  on  earth," 
said  Nicholas,  "  it  may  be  better  for  me  that  we  should  never 
meet  more." 

"For  both,  for  both,"  replied  Madeline,  not  heeding  what 
she  said.  "  The  time  will  come  when  to  recall  the  memory  of 
this  one  interview  might  drive  me  mad.  Be  sure  to  tell  them, 
that  you  left  me  calm  and  happy.  And  God  be  with  you,  sir, 
and  my  grateful  heart  and  blessing  !  " 

She  was  gone.  Nicholas,  staggering  from  the  house, 
thought  of  the  hurried  scene  which  had  just  closed  upon  him, 
as  if  it  were  the  phantom  of  some  wild,  unquiet  dream.  The 
day  wore  on  ;  at  night,  hafving  been  enabled  in  some  measure 
to  collect  his  thoughts,  he  issued  forth  again. 
.  That  night,  being  the  last  of  Arthur  Gride's  bachelorship, 
found  him  in  tip-top  spirits  and  great  glee.  The  bottle-green 
suit  had  been  brushed,  ready  for  the  morrow.  Peg  Sliderskew 
had  rendered  the  accounts  of  her  past  housekeeping ;  the 
eighteenpence  had  been  rigidly  accounted  for  (sh"e  was  never 
trusted  with  a  larger  sum  at  once,  and  the  accounts  were  not 
usually  balanced  more  than  twice 'a-day)  ;  every  preparation 
had  been  made  for  the  coming  festival  ;  and  Arthur  might 
have  sat  down  and  contemplated  his  approaching  happiness. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  695 

but   that  he   preferred   sitting  down   and   contemplating  the 
entries  in  a  dirty  old  vellum-book  with  rusty  clasps. 

"  Well-a-day !  "  he  chuckled,  as  sinking  on  his  knees  be- 
fore a  strong  chest  screwed  down  to  the  floor,  he  thrust  in  his 
arm  nearly  up  to  the  shoulder,  and  slowly  drew  forth  this 
greasy  volume,  "  Well-a-day  now,  this  is  all  my  library,  but  it's 
one  of  the  most  entertaining  books  that  were  ever  written  ! 
It's  a  delightful  book,  and  all  true  and  real — that's  the  best  of 
it — true  as  the  Bank  of  England,  and  real  as,  its  gold  and 
silver.  Written  by  Arthur  Gride.  He,  he,  he !  None  of 
your  story-book  writers  will  ever  make  as  good  a  book  as  this, 
I  warrant  me.  It's  composed  for  private  circulation,  for  my 
own  particular  reading,  and  nobody  else's.     He,  he,  he  !  " 

Muttering  this  soliloquy,  Arthur  carried  his  precious  volume 
to  the  table,  and,  adjusting  it  upon  a  dusty  desk,  put  on  his 
spectacles,  and  began  to  pore  among  the  leaves. 

'^It's  a  large  sum  to  Mr.  Nickleby,"  he  said,  in  a  dolorous 
voice.  "  Debt  to  be  paid  in  full,  nine  hundred  and  seventy-' 
five,  four,  three.  Additional  sum  as  per  bond,  five  hundred. 
One  thousand,  four  hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds,  four 
shillings,  and  threepence,  to-morrow  at  twelve  o'clock.  On  the 
other  side  though,  there's  the  per  contra.,  by  means  of  this 
pretty  chick.  But,  again,  there's  the  questions  whether  I 
mightn't  have  brought  all  this  about  myself.  '  Faint  heart 
never  won  fair  lady.'  Why  was  my  heart  so  faint  ?  Why 
didn't  I  boldly  open  it  to  Bray  myself,  and  save  one  thousand 
four  hundred  and  seventy-five,  four,  three  !  " 

These  reflections  depressed  the  old  usurer  so  much,  as  to 
wring  a  feeble  groan  or  two  front  his  breast,  and  cause  him  to 
declare,  with  uplifted  hands,  that  he  would  die  in  a  workhouse. 
Remembermg  on  further  cogitation,  however,  that  under  afty 
circumstances  he  must  have  paid,  or  handsomely  compounded 
for,  Ralph's  debt,  and  being  by  no  means  confident  that  he 
would  have  succeeded  had  he  undertaken  his  enterprise  alone, 
he  regained  his  equanimity,  and  chattered  and  mowed  over 
more  satisfactory  items,  until  the  entrance  of  Peg  Sliderskew 
interrupted  him. 

"Aha,  Peg !  "  said  Arthur,  "what  is  it?  What  is  it  now, 
Peo-?" 

"It's  the  fowl,"  replied  Peg,  holding  up  a  plate  containing 
a  little,  a  very  little,  one.  Quite  a  phenomenon  of  a  fowl. 
So  very  small  and  skinny.  - 

"  A  beautiful  bird  !  "  said  Arthur,  after  inquiring  the  price 


696 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


and  finding  it  proportionate  to  the  size.  "  With  a  rasher  of 
ham,  and  an  egg  made  into  sauce,  and  potatoes,  and  greens 
and  an  apple  pudding.  Peg,  and  a  little  bit  of  cheese,  we 
shall  have  a  dinner  for,  an  emperor.  There'll  only  be  she 
and  me — and  you,  Peg,  when  we've  done." 

"  Don't  you  complain  of  the  expense  afterwards,"  said  Mrs. 
Sliderskew,  sulkily. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  must  live  expensively  for  the  first  week," 
returned  Arthur,  with  a  groan,  "  and  then  we  must  make  up 
for  it.  I  won't  eat  more  than  I  can  help,  and  I  know  you 
love  your  old  master  too  much  to  eat  more  than  you  can  help, 
don't  you.  Peg  ?  " 

"  Don't  I  what  ?  "  said  Peg. 

"  Love  your  old  master  too  much — " 

"  No,  not  a  bit  too  much,"  said  Peg. 

"  Oh  dear,  I  wish  the  devil  had  this  woman ! "  cried 
Arthur  :  "  love  him  too  much  to  eat  more  than  you  can  help 
at  his  expense." 

"  At  his  what }  "  said  Peg. 

"  Oh  dear  !  She  can  never  hear  the  most  important  word, 
and  hears  all  the  others  !  "  whined  Gride.  "  At  his  expense 
— you  catamaran  !  " 

The  last-mentioned  tribute  to  the  charms  of  Mrs.  Sli- 
derskew, being  uttered  in  a  whisper,  that  lady  assented  to 
the  general  proposition  by  a  harsh  growl  which  was  accom- 
panied by  a  ring  at  the  street-door. 

"  There's  the  bell,"  said  Arthur. 

"Ay,  ay  ;  I  know  that,"  rejoined  Peg. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  ?  "  bawled  Arthur. 

"  Go  where  ?  "  retorted  Peg.  "  I  ain't  doing  any  harm 
here,  am  I }  " 

Arthur  Gride  in  reply  repeated  the  word  "  bell  "  as  loud 
as  he  could  roar ;  and,  his  meaning  being  rendered  further 
intelligible  to  Mrs.  Sliderskew's  dull  sense  of  hearing  by  pan- 
tomime expressive  of  ringing  at  a  street-door,  Peg  hobbled 
out  after  sharply  demanding  why  he  hadn't  said  there  was  a 
ring,  before,  instead  of  talking  about  all  manner  of  things 
that  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  keeping  her  half-pint  of 
beei  waiting  on  the  steps. 

"There's  a  change  come  over  you,  Mrs.  Peg,"  said 
Arthur,  following  her  out  with  his  eyes.  "  What  it  means  I 
don't  quite  know  ;  but,  if  it  lasts,  we  shan't  agree  together 
long  I  see.     You  are  turning  crazy,  I  think.     If  you  are,  you 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


697 


must  take  yourself  off,  Mrs.  Peg — or  be  taken  off.  All's  one 
to  me."  Turning  over  the  leaves  of  his  book  as  he  muttered 
this,  he  soon  lighted  upon  something  which  attracted  his  atten- 
tion, and  forgot  Peg  Sliderskew  and  everything  else  in  the 
engrossing  interest  of  its  pages. 

The  room  had  no  other  light  than  that  which  it  derived 
from  a  dim  and  dirt-clogged  lamp,  whose  lazy  wick,  being  still 
further  obscured  by  a  dark  shade,  cast  its  feeble  rays  over  a 
ver}'  little  space,  and  left  all  beyond  in  heavy  shadow.  This 
lamp,  the  money-lender  had  drawn  so  close  to  him,  that  there 
was  only  room  between  it  and  himself  for  the  book  over 
which  he  bent ;  and  as  he  sat,  with  his  elbows  on  the  desk, 
and  his  sharp  cheek-bones  resting  on  his  hands,  it  only  served 
to  bring  out  his  vigly  features  in  strong  relief,  together  with 
the  little  table  at  which  he  sat,  and  to  shroud  all  the  rest  of 
the  chamber  in  a  deep  sullen  gloom.  Raising  his  eyes,  and 
looking  vacantly  into  this  gloom  as  he  made  some  mental  cal- 
culation, Arthur  Gride  suddenlv  met  the  fixed  gaze  of  a  man. 

"  Thieves  !  thieves  !  "  shrieked  the  usurer,  starting  up  and 
folding  his  book  to  his  breast.     "  Robbers  !      Murder  !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  the  form,  advancing. 

"  Keep  oft" !  "  cried  the  trembling  wretch.  "  Is  it  a  man 
or  a — a — " 

"  For  what  do  you  take  me,  if  not  for  a  man  ?  "  was  the 
inquiry. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Arthur  Gride,  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hand  "  it  is  a  man  and  not  a  spirit.  It  is  a  man.  Robbers  ! 
robbers  !  " 

"  For  what  are  these  cries  raised  ?  Unless  indeed  you 
know  me,  and  have  some  purpose  in  your  brain  ?  "  said  the 
stranger,  coming  close  up  to  him.     ''  I  am  no  thief." 

"  What  then,  and  how  come  you  here  .'' "  cried  Gride, 
somewhat  re-assured,  but  still  retreating  from  his  visitor  : 
"what  is  your  name,  and  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

*'  My  name  you  need  not  know,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  came 
here,  because  I  was  shown  the  way  by  your  servant.  I 
have  addressed  you  twice  or  thrice,  but  you  were  too  pro- 
foundly engaged  with  your  book  to  hear  me,  and  I  have  been 
silently  waiting  until  you  should  be  less  abstracted.  What  I 
want,  I  will  tell  you,  when  you  can  summon  up  courage  enough 
to  hear  and  understand  me." 

Arthur  Gride  venturing  to  regard  his  visitor  more  atten- 
tively, and  perceiving  that  he  was  a  young  man  of  good  mien 


698  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

and  bearing,  returned  to  his  seat,  and  muttering  that  there 
were  bad  characters  about,  and  that  this,  with  former  attempts 
upon  his  house,  had  made  him  nervous,  requested  his  visitor 
to  sit  down.     However  he  declined. 

"  Good  God  !  I  don't  stand  up  to  have  you  at  an  advan- 
tage," said  Nicholas  (for  Nicholas  it  was),  as  he  observed  a 
gesture  of  alarm  on  the  part  of  Gride.  "  Listen  to  me.  You 
are  to  be  married  to-morrow  morning." 

"N — n — no,"  rejoined  Gride.  "  Who  said  I  was  .''  How 
do  you  know  that }  " 

"No  matter  how,"  replied  Nicholas,  "  I  know  it.  The 
young  lady  who  is  to  give  you  her  hand,  hates  and  despises 
you.  Her  blood  runs  cold  at  the  mention  of  your  name  ;  the 
vulture  and  the  lamb,  the  rat  and  the  dove,  could  not  be 
worse  matched  than  you  and  she,     You  see  I  know  her." 

Gride  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  petrified  with  astonish- 
ment, but  did  not  speak  •  perhaps  lacking  the  power. 

"  You  and  another  man,  Ralph  Nickleby  by  name,  have 
hatched  this  plot  between  you,"  pursued  Nicholas.  "You 
pay  him  for  his  share  in  bringing  about  this  sale  of  Madeline 
Bray.     You  do.     A  lie  is  trembling  on  your  lips,  I  see." 

He  paused ;  but  Arthur  making  no   reply,  resumed  again. 

"  You  pay  yourself  by  defrauding  her.  How  or  by  what 
means — for  I  scorn  to  sully  her  cause  by  falsehood  or  deceit 
— I  do  not  know  ;  at  present  I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  not 
alone  or  single-handed  in  this  business.  If  the  energy  of 
man  can  compass  the  discovery  of  your  fraud  and  treachery 
before  your  death  ;  if  wealth,  revenge,  and  just  hatred,  can 
hunt  and  track  you  through  your  windings  ;  you  will  yet  be 
called  to  a  dear  account  for  this.  We  are  on  the  scent  al- 
ready ;  judge  you  who  know  what  we  do  not,  when  we  shall 
have  you  down  ?  " 

He  paused  again,  and  still  Arthur  Gride  glared  upon  him 
in  silence. 

"  If  you  were  a  man  to  whom  I  could  appeal  with  any  hope 
of  touching  his  compassion  or  humanity."  said  Nicholas,  "I 
would  urge  upon  you  to  remember  the  helplessness,  the  inno- 
cence, the  youth,  of  this  lady  ;  her  worth  and  beauty,  her  filial 
excellence,  and  last,  and  more  than  all  as  concerning  you  more 
nearly,  the  appeal  she  has  made  to  your  mercy  and  your  manly 
feeling.  But  I  take  the  only  ground  that  can  be  taken  with 
men  like  you,  and  ask  what  money  will  buy  you  ofif.  Remem- 
ber the  danger  to  which  you  are  exposed.     You  see  I  know 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  699 

enough,  to  know  much  more  with  very  little  help.  Bate  some 
expected  gain,  for  the  risk  you  save,  and  say  what  is  your 
price." 

Old  Arthur  Gride  moved  his  lips,  but  they  only  formed  an 
ugly  smile  and  were  motionless  again. 

"  You  think,"  said  Nicholas,  "  that  the  price  would  not  be 
paid.  Miss  Bray  has  wealthy  friends  who  would  coin  their 
very  hearts  to  save  her  in  such  a  strait  as  this.  Name  your 
price,  defer  these  nuptials  for  but  a  few  days,  and  see  whether 
those  I  speak  of,  shrink  from  the  payment.   Do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

When  Nicholas  began,  Arthur  Gride's  impression  was,  that 
Ralph  Nickleby  had  betrayed  him  ;  but,  as  he  proceeded,  he 
felt  convinced  that  however  he  had  come  by  the  knowledge 
he  possessed,  the  part  he  acted  was  a  genuine  one,  and  that 
with  Ralph  he  had  no  concern.  All  he  seemed  to  know  for 
certain,  was,  that  he,  Gride,  paid  Ralph's  debt ;  but  that,  to 
anybody  who  knew  the  circumstances  of  Bray's  detention — 
even  to  Bray. himself  on  Ralph's  own  statement — must  be  per- 
fectly notorious.  As  to  the  fraud  on  Madeline  herself,  his 
visitor  knew  so  little  about  its  nature  or  extent,  that  it  might 
be  a  lucky  guess,  or  a  hap-hazard  accusation.  Whether  or  no, 
he  had  clearly  no  key  to  the  mystery,  and  could  not  hurt  him 
who  kept  it  close  within  his  own  breast.  The  allusion  to 
friends,  and  the  offer  of  money,  Gride  held  to  be  mere  empty 
vaporing,  for  purposes  of  delay,  "  And  even  if  money  were  to 
be  had,"  thought  Arthur  Gride,  as  he  glanced  at  Nicholas, 
and  trembled  with  passion  at  his  boldness  and  audacity,  "  I'd 
have  that  dainty  chick  for  my  wife,  and  cheat  you  of  her, 
young  smooth-face  !  " 

Long  habit  of  weighing  and  noting  well  what  clients  said, 
and  nicely  balancing  chances  in  his  mind  and  calculating  odds 
to  their  faces,  without  the  least  appearance  of  being  so  en- 
gaged, had  rendered  Gride  quick  in  forming  conclusions,  and 
arriving,  from  puzzling,  intricate,  and  often  contradictory 
premises,  at  very  cunning  deductions.  Hence  it  was,  that,  as 
Nicholas  went  on,  he  followed  him  closely  with  his  own  con- 
structions, and,  when  he  ceased  to  speak,  was  as  well  prepared 
as  if  he  had  deliberated  for  a  fortnight. 

"  I  hear  you,"  he  cried,  starting  from  his  seat,  casting  back 
the  fastenings  of  the  window-shutters,  and  throwing  up  the 
sash.     "Help  here!     Help!     Help!" 

"  What  are  you  doing  !  "  said  Nicholas,  seizing  him  by  the 
arm. 


7  oo  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  I'll  cry  robbers,  thieves,  murder,  alarm  the  neighborhood, 
struggle  with  you,  let  loose  some  blood,  and  swear  you  came 
to  rob  me,  if  you  don't  quit  my  house."  replied  Gride,  draw- 
ing in  his  head  with  a  frightful  grin,   "  i  will  !  " 

"  Wretch  !  "  cried  Nicholas. 

"  You'll  bring  your  threats  here,  will  you  ? "  said 
Gride,  whom  jealousy  of  Nicholas  and  a  sense  of  his  own 
triumph  had  converted  into  a  perfect  fiend.  "  You,  the  dis- 
appointed lover  ?  Oh,  dear  !  He  !  he  !  he  !  But  you  shan't 
have  her,  nor  she  you.  She's  my  wife,  my  doting  little  wife. 
Do  you  think  she'll  miss  you?  Do  you  think  she'll  weep?  I 
shall  like  to  see  her  weep,  I  shan't  mind  it.  She  looks  prettier 
in  tears." 

"  Villain  !  "  said  Nicholas,  choking  with  his  rage. 

"One  minute  more,"  cried  Arthur  Gride,  "and  I'll  rouse 
the  street  with  such  screams,  as,  if  they  were  raised  by  any 
body  else,  should  wake  me  even  in  the  arms  of  pretty  Made- 
line." 

"  You  hound  !  "  said  Nicholas,  "  if  you  were  but  a  younger 
man " 

"  Oh  yes  !  "  sneered  Arthur  Gride,  "  if  I  was  but  a  younger 
man  it  wouldn't  be  so  bad  ;  but  for  me,  so  old  and  ugly !  To 
be  jilted  by  little  Madeline  for  me  !  " 

"Hear  me,"  said  Nicholas,  "and  be  thankful  I  have 
enough  command  over  myself  not  to  fiing  you  into  the  street, 
which  no  aid  could  prevent  my  doing  if  I  once  grappled  with 
you.  I  have  been  no  lover  of  this  lady's.  No  contract  or 
engagement,  no  word  of  love,  has  ever  passed  between  us. 
She  does  not  even  know  my  name." 

"  I'll  ask  it  for  all  that.  I'll  beg  it  of  her  with  kisses," 
said  Arthur  Gride.  "  Yes,  and  she'U  tell  me,  and  pay  them 
back,  and  we'll  laugh  together,  and  hug  ourselves,  and  be 
very  merry,  when  we  think  of  the  poor  youth  that  wanted  to 
have  her,  but  couldn't  because  she  was  bespoke  by  me !  " 

This  taunt  brought  such  an  expression  into  the  face  of 
Nicholas,  that  Arthur  Gride  plainly  apprehended  it  to  be  the 
forerunner  of  his  putting  his  threat  of  throwing  him  into  the 
street  in  immediate  execution  ;  for  he  thrust  his  head  out  of 
the  window,  and  holding  tight  on  with  both  hands,  raised  a 
pretty  brisk  alarm.  Not  thinking  it  necessary  to  abide  the 
issue  of  the  noise,  Nicholas  gave  vent  to  an  indignant  defiance, 
and  stalked  from  the  room  and  from  the  house.  Arthur  Gride 
watched  him  across  tlie  street,  and  then,  drawing  in  his  head, 
fastened  the  window  as  before,  and  sat  down  to  take  breath. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  701 

"  If  she  ever  turns  pettish  or  ill-humored,  I'll  taunt  her 
witli  that  spark,"  he  said,  when  he  had  recovered.  "  She'll 
little  think  i  know  about  him  ;  and,  if  I  manage  it  well,  I  can 
break  her  spirit  by  this  means  ^nd  liave  her  under  my  thumb. 
I'm  glad  nobody  came.  I  didn't  call  too  loud.  The  audacity 
to  enter  my  house,  and  open  upon  me  !  13ut  I  shall  have  a 
very  good  triumph  to-morrow,  and  he  11  be  gnawing  his  fingers 
off  :  perhaps  drown  himself,  or  cut  his  throat !  I  shouldn't 
wonder  1  That  would  make  it  quite  complete,  that  would  : 
quite." 

When  he  had  become  restored  to  his  usual  condition  by 
these  and  other  comments  on  his  approaching  triumph, 
Arthur  Gride  put  away  his  book,  and  having  locked  the 
chest  with  great  caution,  descended  into  the  kitchen  to  warn 
Peg  Sliderskew  to  bed,  and  scold  her  for  having  afforded  such 
ready  admission  to  a  stranger. 

The  unconscious  Peg,  however,  not  being  able  to  compre- 
hend the  offence  of  which  she  had  been  guilty,  he  summoned 
her  to  hold  the  light,  while  he  made  a  tour  of  the  fastenings, 
and  secured  the  street-door  with  his  own  hands. 

"Top  bolt,"  muttered  Artliur,  fastening  as  he  spoke,  "bot- 
tom bolt,  chain,  bar,  double-lock,  and  key  out  to  put  under 
my  pillow  !  So,  if  any  more  rejected  admirers  come,  they 
may  come  through  the  key-hole.  And  now  I'll  go  to  sleep 
till  half-past  fi\e,  when  I  must  get  up  to  be  married,  Peg !  " 

With  that,  he  jocularly  tapped  Mrs.  Sliderskew  under  the 
chin,  and  appeared  for  the  moment  inclined  to  celebrate  the 
close  of  his  bachelor  days  by  imprinting  a  kiss  on  her  shriv- 
elled lips.  Thinking  better  of  it,  however,  he  gave  her  chin 
another  tap,  in  lieu  of  that  warmer  familiarity,  and  stole  away 
to  bed. 


CHAPTER   LIV. 

THE    CRISIS    OF    THE    PROJECT   AND    ITS    RESULT. 

There  are  not  many  men  who  lie  abed  too  late,  or  over- 
sleep themselves,  on  their  wedding  morning.  A  legend  there 
is,  of  somebody  remarkable  for  absence  of  mind,  who  opened 
his  eyes  upon  the  day  which  was  to  give  him  a  young  wife,  and 


7o: 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


& 


forgetting  all  about  the  matter,  rated  his  servants  for  providing 
him  with  such  tine  clothes  as  had  been  prepared  for  the  festi- 
val. There  is  also  a  legend  of  a  young  gentleman,  who,  not 
having  before  his  eyes  the  fear  of  the  canons  of  the  church 
for  such  cases  made  and  provided,  conceived  a  passion  for  his 
grandmother.  Both  cases  are  of  a  singular  and  special  kind, 
and  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  either  can  be  considered  as  a 
precedent  likely  to  be  extensively  followed  by  succeeding  gen- 
erations. 

Arthur  Gride  had  enrobed  himself  in  his  marriage  gar- 
ments of  bottle-green,  a  full  hour  before  Mrs.  Sliderskew, 
shaking  off  her  more  heavy  slumbers,  knocked  at  his  chamber 
door ;  and  he  had  hobbled  down  stairs  in  full  array  and 
smacked  his  lips  over  a  scanty  taste  of  his  favorite  cordial, 
ere  that  delicate  piece  of  antiquity  enlightened  the  kitchen 
with  her  presence. 

"  Faugh  !  "  said  Peg,  grubbing,  in  the  discharge  of  her  do- 
mestic functions  among  a  scanty  heap  of  ashes  in  the  rusty 
grate,  "  Wedding  indeed  !  A  precious  wedding  !  He  wants 
somebody  better  than  his  old  Peg  to  take  care  of  him,  does 
he  ?  And  what  has  he  said  to  me,  many  and  many  a  time,  to 
keep  me  content  with  short  food,  small  wages,  and  little  fire  ? 
'  My  will,  Peg  !  my  will  ! '  says  he,  '  I'm  a  bachelor — no  friends 
— no  relations,  Peg!'  Lies  !  And  now  he's  to  bring  home  a 
new  mistress,  a  baby-faced  chit  of  a  girl !  If  he  wanted  a  wife, 
the  fool,  why  couldn't  he  have  one  suitable  to  his  age  and  that 
knew  his  ways  ?  She  won't  come  in  my  way,  he  says.  No, 
that  she  won't ;  but  you  little  think  why,  Arthur  boy  ! " 

While  Mrs.  Sliderskew,  influenced  possibly  by  some  linger- 
ing feelings  of  disappointment  and  personal  slight,  occasioned 
by  her  old  master's  preference  for  another,  was  giving  loose 
to  these  grumblings  below  stairs,  Arthur  Gride  was  cogitating 
in  the  parlor  upon  what  had  taken  place  last  night. 

"  I  can't  think  how  he  can  ha\e  picked  up  what  he  knows," 
said  Arthur,  "  unless  I  have  committed  myself — let  something 
drop  at  Pray's,  for  instance — which  has  been  overheard. 
Perhaps  I  may.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  that  was  it.  Mr. 
Nicklcby  was  often  angry  at  my  talking  to  him  before  we  got 
outside  the  door.  I  musn'ttell  him  that  part  of  the  business, 
or  he'll  put  me  out  of  sorts,  and  make  me  nervous  for  the 
day." 

Ralph  was  universally  looked  up  to,  and  recognized  among 
his  fellows   as  a  superior  genius,  but  upon  Arthur  (iride   Jiis 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  703 

stern  unyielding  character  and  consummate  art  had  made  so 
deep  an  impression,  that  he  was  actually  afraid  of  him. 
Cringing  and  cowardly  to  the  core,  by  nature,  Arthur  Gride 
humbled  himself  in  the  dust  before  Ralph  Nickleby,  and, 
even  when  they  had  not  this  stake  in  common,  would  have 
licked  his  shoes  and  crawled  upon  the  ground  before  him 
rather  than  venture  to  return  him  word  for  word,  or  retort 
upon  him  in  any  other  spirit  than  one  of  the  most  slavish  and 
abject  sycophancy. 

To  Ralph  Nickleby's,  Arthur  Gride  now  betook  himself 
according  to  appointment  ;  and  to  Ralph  Nickleby  he  related, 
how,  last  night,  some  young  blustering  blade  whom  he  had 
ne\er  seen,  forced  his  way  into  his  house,  and  tried  to  frighten 
him  from  the  proposed  nuptials.  Told,  in  short,  what  Nicho- 
las had  said  and  done,  with  the  slight  reservation  upon  which 
he  had  determined. 

"  Well,  and  what  then  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"Oh  !  nothing  more,"  rejoined  Gride. 

"He  tried  to  frighten  you,"  said  Ralph,  "and  you  were 
frightened  I  suppose  ;  is  that  it  t  " 

"  I  frightened  him  by  crying  thieves  and  murder,"  replied 
Gride.  "  Once  I  was  in  earnest,  I  tell  you  that,  for  I  had 
more  than  half  a  mind  to  swear  he  uttered  threats,  and 
demanded  my  life  or  my  money." 

"  Oho  !  "  said  Ralph,  eyeing  him  askew.     "Jealous  too  !  " 

"  Dear  now,  see  that  !  "  cried  Arthur,  rubbing  his  hands 
and  affecting  to  laugh. 

"Why  do  you  make  those  grimaces,  man  ?"  said  Ralph  ; 
"  you  arc  jealous — and  with  good  cause  1  think." 

""KoT  no?  110 ;  not  with  good  cause,  hey  ?  You  don't 
think  with  good  cause,  do  you  ?  "  cried  Arthur,  faltering,  "  Do 
you  though,  hey  ?  " 

'  Why,  how' stands  the  fact  t  "  returned  Ralph.  "  Here  is 
an  old  man  about  to  be  forced  in  marriage,  upon  a  girl  ;  and 
to  this  old  man  there  comes  a  handsome  young  fellow — you 
said  he  was  handsome,  didn't  you  ? " 

"  No  1"  snarled  Arthur  Gride. 

"  Oh  !  "  rejoined  Ralph,  "  I  thought  you  did.  Well ! 
Handsome  or  not  handsome,  to  this  old  man  there  comes  a 
young  fellow  who  casts  all  manner  of  fierce  defiances  in  his 
teeth — gums  I  should  rather  say — and  tells  him  in  plain  terms 
that  his  mistress  hates  him.  What  does  he  do  that  for  > 
Philanthropy's  sake  ?  " 


^04  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Not  for  love  of  the  lady,"  replied  Gride,  "  for  he  said  that 
no  word  of  love  (his  very  words)  had  ever  passed  between  'em." 

"  He  said  !  "  repeated  Ralph,  contemptuously.  "  But  I 
like  him  for  one  thing,  and  that  is,  his  giving  you  this  fair 
warning  to  keep  your — what  is  it  ? — Tit-tit  or  dainty  chick — 
which  ? — under  lock  and  key.  Be  careful,  Gride,  be  careful. 
It's  a  triumph,  too,  to  tear  her  away  from  a  gallant  young 
rival :  a  great  triumph  for  an  old  man  !  It  only  remains  to 
keep  her  safe  when  you  have  her — that's  all." 

"  What  a  man  it  is  !  "  cried  Arthur  Gride,  affecting,  in  the 
extremity  of  his  torture,  to  be  highly  amused.  And  then  he 
added,  anxiously,  "  Yes  ;  to  keep  her  safe,  that's  all.  And 
that  isn't  much,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Much  !  "  said  Ralph,  with  a  sneer.  "  Why,  ever^'body 
knows  what  easy  things  to  understand  and  to  control,  women 
are.  But  come,  it's  very  nearly  time  for  you  to  be  made 
happy.  You'll  pay  the  bond,  now,  I  suppose,  to  save  us 
trouble  afterwards!" 
"^    "  Oh  what  a  man  vou  are  ! "  croaked  Arthur. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Ralph.  "  Nobody  will  pay  you  interest 
for  the  money,  I  suppose,  between  this  and  twelve  o'clock  : 
will  they  ? " 

"  But  nobody  would  pay  you  interest  for  it  either,  you 
know,"  returned  Arthur,  leering  at  Ralph  with  all  the  cunning 
and  slyness  he  could  throw  into  his  face. 

"  Besides  which,"  said  Ralph,  suffering  his  lip  to  curl  into 
a  smile,  "  you  haven't  the  money  about  you,  and  you  weren't 
prepared  for  this,  or  you'd  have  brought  it  with  you  ;  and 
there's  nobody  you'd  so  much  like  to  accommodate  as  me. 
I  see.  We  trust  each  other  in  about  an  equal  degree.  Are 
you  ready  ? " 

Gride,  who  had  done  nothing  but  grin,  and  nod,  and 
chatter,  during  this  last  speech  of  Ralph's,  answered  in  the 
affirmative  ;  and,  producing  from  his  hat  a  couple  of  large 
white  favors,  pinned  one  on  his  breast,  and  with  considerable 
difficulty  induced  his  friend  to  do  the  like.  Thus  accoutred, 
they  got  into  a  hired  coach  which  Ralph  had  in  waiting,  and 
drove  to  the  residence  of  the  fair  and  most  wretched  bride. 

Gride,  whose  spirits  and  courage  had  gradually  failed  him 
more  and  more  as  they  approached  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
house,  was  utterly  dismayed  and  cowed  by  the  mournful 
silence  which  pervaded  it.  The  face  of  the  poor  servant-girl, 
the  only  person  they  saw,  was  disfigured  with  tears  and  want 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  705 

of  sleep.  There  was  nobody  to  receive  or  welcome  them  ; 
and  they  stole  up  stairs  into  the  usual  sitting-room,  more  like 
two  burglars  than  the  bridegroom  and  his  friend. 

"  One  would  think,"  said  Ralph,  speaking,  in  spite  of 
himself,  in  alow  and  subdued  voice,  "  that  there  was  a  funeral 
going  on  here,  and  not  a  wedding." 

"  He,  he  !  "  tittered  his  friend,  "  you  are  so — so  very 
funny  !  " 

"I  need  be,"  remarked  Ralph,  diyly,  "for  this  is  rather 
dull  and  chilling.  Look  a  little  brisker,  man,  and  not  so  hang- 
dog like  !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will,"  said  Gride.  "  But — but — you  don't 
think  she's  coming  just  yet,  do  you  ?  " 

"Why,  I  suppose  she'll  not  come  till  she  is  obliged," 
returned  Ralph,  looking  at  his  watch,  "  and  she  has  a  good 
half-hour  to  spare  yet.     Curb  your  impatience." 

"I  —  I — am  not  impatient,"  stammered  Arthur.  "I 
wouldn't  be  hard  with  her  for  the  world.  Oh  dear,  dear,  not 
on  any  account.  Let  her  take  her  time — her  own  time.  Her 
time  shall  be  ours  by  all  means." 

While  Ralph  bent  upon  his  trembling  friend  a  keen  look, 
which  showed  that  he  perfectly  understood  the  reason  of  this 
great  consideration  and  regard,  a  footstep  was  heard  upon  the 
stairs,  and  Bray  himself  came  into  the  room  on  tiptoe,  and 
holding  up  his  hand  with  a  cautious  gesture,  as  if  there  were 
some  sick  person  near,  who  must  not  be  disturbed. 

"  Hush !  "  he  said^  in  a  low  voice.  "  She  was  very  ill, 
last  night.  I  thought  she  would  have  broken  her  heart.  She 
is  dressed,  and  crying  bitterly  in  her  own  room;  but  she's 
better,  and  quite  quiet.     That  s  everything  1  " 

"  She  is  ready,  is  she  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"Quite  ready,"  returned  the  father. 

"  And  not  likely  to  delay  us  by  any  young-lady  weaknesses 
— fainting,  or  so  forth  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  She  may  be  safely  trusted  now,"  returned  Bray.  "  I 
have  been  talking  to  her  this  morning.  Here  !  Come  a  little 
this  way." 

He  drew  Ralph  Nickleby  to  the  further  end  of  the  room, 
and  pointed  towards  Gride,  who  sat  huddled  together  in  a 
corner,  fumbling  nervously  with  the  buttons  of  his  coat,  and 
exhibiting  a  face  of  which  every  skulking  and  base  expression 
was  sharpened  and  aggravated  to  the  utmost  by  his  anxiety 
and  trepidation. 

45 


7o6 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  Look  at  that  man,"  whispered  Bray,  emphatically.  "  This 
seems  a  cruel  thing,  after  all." 

"  What  seems  a  cruel  thing  ?  "  inquired  Ralph,  with  as 
much  stolidity  of  face,  as  if  he  really  were  in  utter  ignorance 
of  the  other's  meaning. 

"  This  marriage,"  answered  Bray.  "  Don't  ask  me  what. 
You  know  as  well  as  I  do." 

Ralph  shrugged  his  shoulders,  in  silent  deprecation  of 
Bray's  impatience,  and  elevated  his  eyebrows,  and  pursed 
his  lips,  as  men  do  when  they  are  prepared  with  a  sufficient 
answer  to  some  remark,  but  wait  for  a  more  favorable  oppor- 
tunity of  advancing  it,  or  think  it  scarcely  worth  while  to 
answer  their  adversary  at  all, 

"  Look  at  him.     Does  it  not  seem  cruel  ?  "  said  Bray. 
"  No  !  "  replied  Ralph  boldly. 

"  I  say  it  does,"  retorted  Bray,  with  a  show  of  much  irrita- 
tion.    "  It  is  a  cruel  thing,  by  all  that's  bad  and  treacherous  !  " 
When  men  are  about  to  commit,  or  to  sanction  the  com- 
mission of  some  injustice,  it  is  not  uncommon  for  them  to  ex- 
mjess^ity. f or .tlie~"o5ject  either  of  that  or  some  parallel  pro- 
ceeHmg,  and   to  feel  themselves,  at  the  time,  quite  virtuous 
and  moral,  andlrrTmensely  superior  to  those   who  express  no 
piryaTall.     This  is  a  kind  of  upholding  of  faith  above  works, 
and  is  very  comfortable.     To   do  Ralph  Nickleby  justice,  he 
seldom  practised  this  sort  of  dissimulation  ;  but  he  understood 
those  who  did,  and  therefore   suffered  Bray  to  say,  again  and 
again,  with  great  vehemence,  that  they  were   jointly  doing  a 
very  cruel  thing,  before  he  again  offered  to  interpose  a  \yord. 
"  You  see  what  a  dry,  shnvelled,  withered  old   chip  it  is," 
returned  Ralph,  when  the  other  was  at  length  silent.     "  If  he 
were  younger,    it  might  be   cruel,  but  as   it   is — harkee,  Mr. 
Bray,  he'll  die  soon,  and  leave  her  a  rich  young  widow  !     Miss 
Madeline  consults  your  taste  this  time  ;  let  her  consult  her 
own  next." 

"True,  true,"  said  Bray,  biting  his  nails,  and  plainly  very 
ill  at  ease.  "  I  couldn't  do  anything  better  for  her  than  advise 
her  to  accept  these  proposals,  could  I  ?  Now,  I  ask  you, 
Nicklebv,  as  a  man  of  the  world  ;  could  I  ?  " 

"  Surely  not,"  answered  Ralph.  "  I  tell  you  what,  sir  ; 
there  are  a  hundred  fathers,  within  a  circuit  of  five  miles  from 
this  place  ;  well  off  ;  good,  rich,  substantial  men  ;  who  would 
gladly  give  their  daughters,  and  their  own  ears  with  them,  to 
that  very  man  yonder,  ape  and  mummy  as  he  looks." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  707 

*'  So  there  are  !  "  exclaimed  Bray,  eagerly  catching  at  any- 
thing which  seemed  a  justitication  of  himself.  "  And  so  I 
told  her,  both  last  night  and  to-day." 

"  You  told  her  truth,"  said  Ralph,  "  and  did  well  to  do  so  ; 
though  I  must  say,  at  the  same  time,  that  if  I  had  a  daughter, 
and  my  freedom,  pleasure,  nay,  my  very  health  and  life,  de- 
pended on  her  taking  a  husband  whom  I  pointed  out,  I  should 
hope  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  advance  any  other  argu- 
ments to  induce  her  to  consent  to  my  wishes." 

Bray  looked  at  Ralph,  as  if  to  see  whether  he  spoke  in 
earnest,  and  having  nodded  twice  or  thrice  in  unqualified  as- 
sent to  what  had  fallen  from  him,  said  : 

"  I  must  go  up  stairs,  for  a  few  minutes,  to  finish  dressing. 
When  I  come  down,  I'll  bring  Madeline  with  me.  Do  you 
know  I  had  a  very  strange  dream  last  night,  which  I  have  not 
remembered  till  this  instant  t  I  dreamt  that  it  was  this 
morning,  and  you  and  I  had  been  talking,  as  we  have  been 
this  minute  ;  that  I  went  up  stairs,  for  the  very  purpose  for 
which  I  am  going  now  ;  and  that  as  I  stretched  out  my  hand 
to  take  Madeline's,  and  lead  her  down,  the  fioor  sank  with 
me,  and  after  falling  from  such  an  indescribable  and  tremen- 
dous height  as  the  imagination  scarcely  conceives  except  in 
dreams,  I  alighted  in  a  grave." 

"  And  you  awoke,  and  found  you  were  lying  on  your  back, 
or  with  your  head  hanging  over  the  bedside,  or  suffering  some 
pain  from  indigestion  t  "  said  Ralph.  "  Pshaw,  Mr.  Bray  ! 
Do  as  I  do  (you  will  have  the  opportunity,  now  that  a  constant 
round  of  pleasure  and  enjoyment  opens  upon  you),  and,  oc- 
cupying yourself  a  little  more  by  day,  have  no  time  to  think  of 
what  you  dream  by  night." 

Ralph  followed  him,  with  a  steady  look,  to  the  door ;  turn- 
ing to  the  bridegroom,  when  they  were  again  alone,  he  said, 

"Mark  my  words.  Gride,  you  won't  have  to  pay /^^.v  annuity 
very  long.  You  have  the  devil's  luck  in  bargains,  always.  If 
he  is  not  booked  to  make  the  long  voyage  before  many 
months  are  past  and  gone,  I  wear  an  orange  for  a  head  !  " 

To  this  prophecy,  so  agreeable  to  his  ears,  Arthur  returned 
no  answer  than  a  cackle  of  great  delight.  Ralph,  thcowing 
himself  into  a  chair,  they  both  sat  waiting  in  profound  silence. 
Ralph  was  thinking,  with  a  sneer  upon  his  lips  on  the  altered 
manner  of  Bray  that  day,  and  how  soon  their  fellowship  in  a 
bad  design  had  lowered  his  pride  and  established  a  familiarity 
between  them,  when  his  attentive  car  caught  the  rustling  of  a 
female  dress  upon  the  stairs,  and  the  footstep  of  a  man. 


7o8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Wake  up  !  "  he  said,  stamping  his  foot  impatiently  upon 
the  ground,  "  and  be  something  Uke  hfe,  man,  will  you  ?  They 
are  here.  Urge  those  dry  old  bones  of  yours  this  way.  Quick, 
man,  quick  1  " 

Gride  shambled  forward,  and  stood,  leering  and  bowing, 
close  by  Ralph's  side,  when  the  door  opened  and  there  entered 
in  haste — not  Bray  and  his  daughter,  but  Nicholas  and  his 
sister  Kate. 

If  some  tremendous  apparition  from  the  world  of  shadows 
had  suddenly  presented  itself  before  him,  Ralph  Nickleby 
could  not  have  been  more  thunder-stricken  than  he  was  by  this 
surprise.  His  hands  fell  powerless  by  his  side,  he  reeled 
back  ;  and  with  open  mouth,  and  a  face  of  ashy  paleness,  stood 
gazing  at  them  in  speechless  rage.  His  eyes  were  so  promi- 
nent, and  his  face  was  so  convulsed  and  changed  by  the  pas- 
sions which  raged  within  him,  that  it  would  have  been  difhcult 
to  recognize  in  him  the  same  stern,  composed,  hard  featured 
man  he  had  been  not  a  minute  ago. 

"  The  man  that  came  to  me  last  night !  "  whispered  Gride, 
plucking  at  his  elbow.  "The  man  that  came  to  me  last 
night  1  " 

"  I  see,"  muttered  Ralph,  *'  I  know  !  I  might  have  guessed 
as  much  before.  Across  my  every  path,  at  every  turn,  go 
where  I  will,  do  what  I  may,  he  comes  ! " 

The  absence  of  all  color  from  the  face  ;  the  dilated  nostril ; 
the  quivering  of  the  lips  which,  though  set  firmly  against  each 
other,  would  not  be  still ;  showed  what  emotions  were  strug- 
gling for  the  mastery  with  Nicholas.  But  he  kept  them  down, 
and  gently  pressing  Kate's  arm  to  reassure  her,  stood  erect 
and  undaunted,  front  to  front  with  his  unworthy  relative. 

As  the  brother  and  sister  stood  side  by  side,  with  a  gallant 
bearing  which  became  them  well,  a  close  likeness  between 
them  was  apparent,  which  many,  had  they  only  seen  them 
apart,  might  have  failed  to  remark.  The  air,  carriage,  and 
very  look  and  expression  of  the  brother  were  all  reflected  in 
the  sister,  but  softened  and  refined  to  the  nicest  limit  of  femi- 
nine delicacy  and  attraction.  More  striking  still,  was  some 
indefinable  resemblance  in  the  face  of  Ralph,  to  both.  While 
they  had  never  looked  more  handsome,  nor  he  more  ugly  ; 
while  they  had  never  held  themselves  more  proudly,  nor  he 
shrunk  half  so  low ;  there  never  had  been  a  time  when  this 
resemblance  was  so  perceptible,  or  when  all  the  worst  char- 
acteristics of  a  face  rendered  coarse  and  harsh  by  evil  thoughts 
were  half  so  manifest  as  now. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  709 

"  Away  !  "  was  the  first  word  he  could  utter  as  he  literally 
gnashed  his  teeth.^  "  Away  !  What  brings  you  here  ?  Liar, 
scoundrel,  dastard,  thief  !  " 

"  1  come  here,"  said  Nicholas  in  a  low  deep  voice,  "  to 
save  your  victim  if  I  can.  Liar  and  scoundrel  you  are,  in 
every  action  of  your  life  ;  theft  is  your  trade  ;  and  double 
dastard  you  must  be,  or  you  were  not  here  to-day.  Hard 
words  will  not  move  me,  nor  would  hard  blows.  Here  I 
stand,  and  will,  till  I  have  done  my  errand." 

"  Girl !  "  said  Ralph,  "  Retire  !  We  can  use  force  to  him, 
but  I  would  not  hurt  you  if  I  could  help  it.  Retire,  you  weak 
and  silly  wench,  and  leave  this  dog  to  be  dealt  with  as  he 
deserves." 

"  I  will  not  retire,"  cried  Kate,  with  flashing  eyes  and  the 
red  blood  mantling  in  her  cheeks.  "  You  will  do  him  no  hurt 
that  he  will  not  repay.  You  may  use  force  with  me  ;  I  think 
you  will,  for  I  am  a  girl,  and  that  would  well  become  you. 
But  if  I  have  a  girl's  weakness,  I  have  a  woman's  heart,  and 
it  is  not  you  who  in  a  cause  like  this  can  turn  that  from  its 
purpose." 

"  And  what  may  your  purpose  be,  most  lofty  lady?  "  said 
Ralph. 

"  To  offer  to  the  unhappy  subject  of  your  treachery,  at 
this  last  moment,"  replied  Nicholas,  "  a  refuge  and  a  home. 
If  the  near  prospect  of  such  a  husband  as  you  have  provided, 
will  not  prevail  upon  her,  I  hope  she  may  be  moved  by  the 
prayers  and  entreaties  of  one  of  her  own  sex.  At  all  events 
they  shall  be  tried.  I  myself,  avowing  to  her  father  from 
whom  I  come  and  by  whom  I  am  commissioned,  will  render 
it  an  act  of  greater  baseness,  meanness,  and  cruelty  in  him  if 
he  still  dares  to  force  this  marriage  on.  Here  I  wait  to  see 
him  and  his  daughter.  For  this  I  came  and  brought  my 
sister  even  into  your  presence.  Our  purpose  is  not  to  see 
or  speak  with  you  ;  therefore  to  you,  we  stoop  to  say  no 
more." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Ralph.  "  You  persist  in  remaining  here, 
ma'am,  do  you  ?  " 

His  niece's  bosom  heaved  with  the  indignant  excitement 
into  which  he  had  lashed  her,  but  she  gave  him  no  reply. 

"Now,  Gride,  see  here,"  said  Ralph.  "This  fellow  (I 
grieve  to  say,  my  brother's  son  :  a  reprobate  and  profligate, 
stained  with  every  mean  and  selfish  crime),  this  fellow,  com- 
ing here  to-day  to  disturb  a  solemn  ceremony,  and  knowing 


7  I o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

that  the  consequence  of  his  presenting  himself  in  another 
man's  house  at  such  a  time,  and  persisting  in  remaining  there, 
must  be  his  being  kicked  into  the  streets  and  dragged  through 
them  Uke  the  vagabond  he  is — this  fellow,  mark  you,  brings 
with  him  his  sister  as  a  protection,  thinking  we  would  not 
expose  a  silly  girl  to  the  degradation  and  indignity  which  is 
no  novelty  to  him.  And,  even  after  I  have  warned  her  of 
what  must  ensue,  he  still  keeps  her  by  him,  as  you  see,  and 
clings  to  her  apron-strings  like  a  cowardly  boy  to  his  mother's. 
Is  this  a  pretty  fellow  to  talk  as  big  as  you  have  heard  him 
now." 

"And  as  I  heard  him  last  night,"  said  Arthur  Gride  ;  "as 
I  heard  him  last  night  when  he  sneaked  into  my  house,  and — 
he  !  he  !  he  ! — very  soon  sneaked  out  again,  when  I  nearly 
frightened  him  to  death.  And  /le  wanting  to  marry  Miss 
Madeline  too !  Oh,  dear  !  Is  there  anything  else  he'd  like  ? 
Anything  else  we  can  do  for  him,  besides  giving  her  up .-' 
Would  he  like  his  debts  paid  and  his  house  furnished,  and  a 
few  bank  notes  for  shaving  paper — if  he  shaves  at  all !  He  ! 
he  !  he  ! " 

"  You  will  remain,  girl,  will  you  .''  "  said  Ralph,  turning 
upon  Kate  again,  "  to  be  hauled  down  stairs  like  a  drunken 
drab,  as  I  swear  you  shall  if  you  stop  here  ?  No  answer ! 
Thank  your  brother  for  what  follows.  Gride,  call  down  Bray 
— and  not  his  daughter.     Let  them  keep  her,  above." 

"If  you  value  your  head,"  said  Nicholas,  taking  up  a 
position  before  the  door,  and  speaking  in  the  same  low  voice 
in  which  he  had  spoken  before,  and  with  no  more  outward 
passion  than  he  had  before  displayed  ;  "  stay  wheie  you  are  !  " 

"  Mind  me,  and  not  him,  and  call  down  Bray,"  said 
Ralph. 

"  Mind  yourself  rather  than  either  of  us,  and  stay  where 
you  are  !  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  Will  you  call  down  Bray  ?  "  cried  Ralph. 

"  Remember  that  you  come  near  me  at  your  peril,"  said 
Nicholas. 

Gride  hesitated.  Ralph,  being  by  this  time  as  furious  as 
a  baffled  tiger,  made  for  the  door,  and,  attempting  to  pass 
Kate,  clasped  her  arm  roughly  with  his  hand.  Nicholas,  with 
his  eyes  darting  fire,  seized  him  by  the  collar.  At  that  mo- 
ment a  heavy  body  fell  with  great  violence  on  the  floor  above, 
and,  in  an  instant  afterwards,  was  heard  a  most  appalling  and 
terrific  scream. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  711 

They  all  stood  still,  and  gazed  upon  each  other.  Scream 
succeeded  scream  ;  a  heavy  pattering  of  feet  succeeded  \  many 
shrill  voices  clamoring  together  were  heard  to  cr}-,  "  He  is 
dead  ! " 

"  Stand  off  !  "  cried  Nicholas,  letting  loose  all  the  pas- 
sion he  had  restrained  till  now,  "  if  this  is  what  I  scarcely  dare 
to  hope  it  is,  you  are  caught,  villains,  in  your  own  toils." 

He  burst  from  the  room,  and,  darting  up  stairs  to  the 
quarter  whence  the  noise  proceeded,  forced  his  way  through 
a  crowd  of  persons  who  quite  filled  a  small  bed-chamber ;  and 
found  Bray  lying  on  the  floor  quite  dead  ;  his  daughter  cling- 
ing to  the  body. 

"  How  did  this  happen  ?  "  he  cried,  looking  wildly  about 
him. 

Several  voices  answered  together,  that  he  had  been  ob- 
served, through  the  half-opened  door,  reclining  in  a  strange 
and  uneasy  position  upon  a  chair  ;  that  he  had  been  spoken 
to,  several  times,  and  not  answering,  was  supposed  to  be 
asleep ;  until  some  person  going  in  and  shaking  him  by  the 
arm,  he  fell  heavily  to  the  ground  and  was  discovered  to  be 
dead. 

"  Who  is  the  owner  of  this  house  ? "  said  Nicholas, 
hastily. 

An  elderly  woman  was  pointed  out  to  him  ;  and  to  her  he 
said,  as  he  knelt  down  and  gently  unwound  Madeline's  arms 
from  the  lifeless  mass  round  which  they  were  entwined  :  "  I 
represent  this  lady's  nearest  friends,  as  her  servant  here 
knows,  and  must  remove  her  from  this  dreadful  scene.  This 
is  my  sister  to  whose  charge  you  confide  her.  My  name  and 
address  are  upon  that  card,  and  you  shall  receive  from  me  all 
necessar)'  directions  for  the  arrangements  that  must  be  made. 
Stand  aside,  every  one  of  vou,  and  give  room  and  air  for  God's 
sake  !  " 

The  people  fell  back,  scarce  wondering  more  at  what  had 
just  occurred,  than  at  the  excitement  and  impetuosit)'  of  him 
who  spoke.  Nicholas,  taking  the  insensible  girl  in  his  arms, 
bore  her  from  the  chamber  and  down  stairs  into  the  room  he 
had  just  quitted,  followed  by  his  sister  and  the  faithful  servant, 
whom  he  charged  to  procure  a  coach  directly  while  he  and 
and  Kate  bent  over  their  beautiful  charge  and  endeavored, 
but  in  vain,  to  restore  her  to  animation.  The  girl  performed 
her  office  with  such  expedition,  that  in  a  very  few  minutes  the 
coach  was  ready. 


y  1 2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

Ralph  Nickleby  and  Gride,  stunned  and  paralyzed  by  the 
awful  event  which  had  so  suddenly  overthrown  their  schemes 
(it  would  not  otherwise,  perhaps,  have  made  much  impression 
on  them),  and  carried  away  by  the  extraordinary  energy  and 
precipitation  of  Nicholas,  which  bore  down  all  before  him, 
looked  on  at  these  proceedings  like  men  in  a  dream  or  trance. 
It  was  not  until  every  preparation  was  made  for  Madeline's 
immediate  removal  that  Ralph  broke  silence  by  declaring  she 
should  not  be  taken  away. 

"  Who  says  so  ?  "  cried  Nicholas,  rising  from  his  knee  and 
confronting  them,  but  still  retaining  Madeline's  lifeless  hand 
in  his. 

"  I  !  "  answered  Ralph,  hoarsely. 

"  Hush,  hush  !  "  cried  the  terrified  Gride,  catching  him 
by  the  arm  again.     "  Hear  what  he  says." 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Nicholas,  extending  his  disengaged  hand  in 
the  air,  "  hear  what  he  says.  That  both  your  debts  are  paid 
in  the  one  great  debt  of  nature.  That  the  bond,  due  to-day 
at  twelve,  is  now  waste  paper.  That  your  contemplated  fraud 
shall  be  discovered  yet.  That  your  schemes  are  known  to 
man,  and  overthrown  by  Heaven.  Wretches,  that  he  defies 
you  both  to  do  your  worst !  " 

"This  man,"  said  Ralph,  in  a  voice  scarcely  intelligible, 
"  this  man  claims  his  wife,  and  he  shall  have  her." 

"  That  man  claims  what  is  not  his,  and  he  should  not  have 
her  if  he  were  fifty  men,  with  fifty  more  to  back  him,"  said 
Nicholas. 

"  Who  shall  prevent  him  ?  " 

"  I  will." 

"  By  what  right  I  should  like  to  know,"  said  Ralph.  "  By 
what  right  I  ask  ?  " 

"  By  this  right.  That,  knowing  what  I  do,  you  dare  not 
tempt  me  further,"  said  Nicholas,  "  and  by  this  better  right ; 
that  those  I  serve,  and  with  whom  you  would  have  done  me 
base  wrong  and  injury,  are  her  nearest  and  her  dearest  friends. 
In  their  name  I  bear  her  hence.     Give  way  !  " 

"  One  word  !  "  cried  Ralph,  foaming  at  the  mouth. 

"  Not  one,"  replied  Nicholas,  "  I  will  not  hear  of  one — 
save  this.  Look  to  yourself,  and  heed  this  warning  that  I 
give  you  !     Day  is  past  in  your  case,  and  night  is  coming  on." 

"  My  curse,  my  bitter,  deadly  curse  upon  you,  boy  !  " 

"  Whence  will  curses  come  at  your  command  ?  Or  what 
avails  a  curse  or  blessing  from  a  man  like  you  ?     I   tell  you, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  713 

that  misfortune  and  discovery  are  thickening  about  your  head  ; 
that  the  structures  you  have  raised,  through  all  your  ill-spent 
life,  are  crumbling  into  dust ;  that  your  path  is  beset  with 
spies  ;  that  this  very  day,  ten  thousand  pounds  of  your  hoard- 
ed wealth  have  gone  in  one  great  crash  !  " 

"  'Tis  false  !  "  cried  Ralph,  shrinking  back. 

"  'Tis  true,  and  you  shall  find  it  so.  I  have  no  more 
words  to  waste.  Stand  from  the  door.  Kate,  do  you  go  first. 
Lay  not  a  hand  on  her,  or  on  that  woman,  or  on  me,  or  so 
much  as  brush  their  garments  as  they  pass  you  by ! — You  let 
them  pass  and  he  blocks  the  door  again  !  " 

Arthur  Gride  happened  to  be  in  the  doorway,  but  whether 
intentionally  or  from  confusion  was  not  quite  apparent.  Nich- 
olas swung  him  away,  with  such  violence  as  to  cause  him  to 
spin  round  the  room  until  he  was  caught  by  a  sharp  angle  of 
the  wall  and  there  knocked  down ;  and  then  taking  his  beau- 
tiful burden  in  his  arms  rushed  out.  No  one  cared  to  stop 
him,  if  any  were  so  disposed.  Making  his  way  through  a  mob 
of  people,  whom  a  report  of  the  circumstances  had  attracted 
round  the  house,  and  carrying  Madeline,  in  his  excitement, 
as  easily  as  if  she  were  an  infant,  he  reached  the  coach  in 
which  Kate  and  the  girl  were  already  waiting,  and,  confiding 
his  charge  to  them,  jumped  up  beside  the  coachman  and  bade 
him  drive  away. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

OF    FAMILY     MATTERS,    CARES,    HOPES,    DISAPPOINTMENTS.    AND 

SORROWS. 

Although  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  been  made  acquainted  by 
her  son  and  daughter  with  every  circumstance  of  Madeline 
Bray's  history  which  was  known  to  them  ;  although  the  respon- 
sible situation  in  which  Nicholas  stood  had  been  carefully 
explained  to  her,  and  she  had  been  prepared,  even  for  the 
possible  contingency  of  having  to  receive  the  young  lady  in 
her  own  house,  improbable  as  such  a  result  had  appeared  only 
a  few  minutes  before  it  came  about ;  still,  Mrs.  Nicklebv,  from 
the  moment  when  this  confidence  was  first  reposed  in  her, 


714  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

late  on  the  previous  evening,  had  remained  in  an  unsatisfac- 
tory and  profoundly  mystified  state,  from  which  no  explana- 
tions or  arguments  could  relieve  her,  and  which  every  fresh 
soliloquy  and  reflection  only  aggravated  more  and  more. 

"Bless  my  heart,  Kate;"  so  the  good  lady  argued ;  "if 
the  Mr.  Cheerybles  don't  want  this  young  lady  to  be  married, 
why  don't  they  file  a  bill  against  the  Lord  Chancellor,  make 
her  a  chancery  ward,  and  shut  her  up  in  the  Fleet  prison  for 
safety  ? — I  have  read  of  such  things  in  the  newspapers  a  hun- 
dred times.  Or,  if  they  are  so  very  fond  of  her  as  Nicholas 
says  they  are,  why  don't  they  marry  her  themselves — one  of 
them  I  mean  ?  And  even  supposing  they  don't  want  her  to 
be  married,  and  don't  want  to  marry  her  themselves,  why  in 
the  name  of  wonder  should  Nicholas  go  about  the  world,  for- 
bidding people's  banns  ? " 

"  I  don't  think  you  quite  understand,"  said  Kate,  gently. 

"  Well  I  am  sure,  Kate,  my  dear,  you're  very  polite  !  " 
replied  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  I  have  been  married  myself  I  hope, 
and  I  have  seen  other  people  married.  Not  understand, 
indeed  !  " 

"  I  know  you  have  had  great  experience,  dear  mama,"  said 
Kate  ;  "  I  mean  that  perhaps  you  don't  quite  understand  all 
the  circumstances  in  this  instance.  We  have  stated  them 
awkwardly,  I  dare  say." 

"  That  I  dare  say  you  have,"  retorted  her  mother,  briskly. 
"  That's  very  likely.  I  am  not  to  be  held  accountable  for 
that ;  though,  at  the  same  time,  as  the  circumstances  speak 
for  themselves,  I  shall  take  the  liberty,  my  love,  of  saying 
that  I  do  understand  them,  and  perfectly  well  too  ;  whatever 
you  and  Nicholas  may  choose  to  think  to  the  contrary.  Why 
is  such  a  great  fuss  made  because  this  Miss  Magdalen  is 
going  to  marry  somebody  who  is  older  than  herself  ?  Your 
poor  papa  was  older  than  I  was,  four  years  and  a  half  older. 
Jane  Dibabs — the  Dibabses  lived  in  the  beautiful  little  thatch- 
ed white  house  one  story  high,  covered  all  over  with  ivy  and 
creeping  plants,  with  an  exquisite  little  porch  with  twining 
honeysuckles  and  all  sorts  of  things  :  where  the  earwigs  used 
to  fall  into  one's  tea  on  a  summer  evening,  and  always  fell 
upon  their  backs  and  kicked  dreadfully,  and  where  the  frogs 
used  to  get  into  the  rushlight  shades  when  one  stopped  all 
night,  and  sit  up  and  look  through  the  little  holes*  like  Chris- 
tians— Jane  Dibabs,  she  married  a  man  who  was  a  great  deal 
older  than  herself,  and  would  marry  him,  notwithstanding  all 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


715 


that  could  be  said  to  the  contrary,  and  she  was  so  fond  of  him 
that  nothing  was  ever  equal  to  it.  Tliere  was  no  fuss  made 
about  Jane  Dibabs,  and  her  husband  was  a  most  honorable 
and  excellent  man,  and  everybody  spoke  well  of  him.  Then 
why  should  there  be  any  fuss  about  this  Magdalen  ?  " 

"  Her  husband  is  much  older  ;  he  is  not  her  own  choice  ; 
his  character  is  the  very  reverse  of  that  which  you  have  just 
described.  Don't  you  see  a  broad  distinction  between  the  two 
cases  .''  "  said  Kate. 

To  this,  Mrs.  Nickleby  only  replied  that  she  durst  say  she 
was  very  stupid,  indeed  she  had  no  doubt  she  was,  for  her  own 
children  almost  as  much  as  told  her  so,  every  day  of  her  life  ; 
to  be  sure  she  was  a  little  older  than  they,  and  perhaps  some 
foolish  people  might  think  she  ought  reasonably  to  know  best. 
However,  no  doubt  she  was  wrong ;  of  course  she  was,  she  al- 
ways was,  she  couldn't  be  right,  she  couldn't  be  expected  to  be  ; 
so  she  had  better  not  expose  herself  any  more  ;  and  to  all 
Kate's  conciliations  and  concessions  for  an  hour  ensuing,  the 
good  lady  gave  no  other  replies  than  Oh,  certainly,  why  did 
they  ask  het\  her  opinion  was  of  no  consequence,  it  didn't  mat- 
ter what  she  said  ;  with  many  other  rejoinders  of  the  same  class. 
In  this  frame  of  mind  (expressed  when  she  had  become 
too  resigned  for  speech,  by  nods  of  the  head,  upliftings  of  the 
eyes,  and  little  beginnings  of  groans,  converted  as  they  at- 
tracted attention  into  short  coughs),  Mrs.  Nickleby  remained 
until  Nicholas  and  Kate  returned  with  the  object  of  their  soli- 
citude ;  when,  having  by  this  time  asserted  her  own  import- 
ance, and  becoming  besides  interested  in  the  trials  of  one  so 
young  and  beautiful,  she  not  only  displayed  the  utmost  zeal 
and  solicitude,  but  took  great  credit  to  herself  for  recom- 
mending the  course  of  procedure  which  her  son  had  adopted  ; 
frequently  declaring,  with  an  expressive  look,  that  it  was  very 
fortunate  things  were  as  they  were  :  and  hinting,  that  but  for 
great  encouragement  and  wisdom  on  her  own  part,  they  never 
could  have  been  brought  to  that  pass. 

Not  to  strain  the  question  whether  Mrs.  Nickleby  had  or 
had  not  any  great  hand  in  bringing  matters  about,  it  is  un- 
questionable that  she  had  strong  ground  for  exultation.  The 
brothers,  on  their  return,  bestowed  such  commendations  on 
Nicholas  for  the  part  he  had  taken,  and  evinced  so  much  joy 
at  the  altered  state  of  events  and  the  recovery  of  their  young 
friend  from  trials  so  great  and  dangers  so  threatening,  that, 
as  she  more  than  once  informed  her  daughter,  she  now  con- 


7i6 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


sidered  the  fortunes  of  the  family  "  as  good  as  made."  Mr. 
Charles  Cheeryble,  indeed,  Mrs.  Nickleby  positively  asserted, 
had,  in  the  first  transports  of  his  surprise  and  delight  "  as 
good  as  "  said  so.  Without  precisely  explaining  what  this 
qualification  meant,  she  subsided,  whenever  she  mentioned 
the  subject,  into  such  a  mysterious  and  important  state,  and 
had  such  visions  of  wealth  and  dignity  in  perspective,  that 
(vague  and  clouded  though  they  were)  she  was,  at  such  times, 
almost  as  happy  as  if  she  had  really  been  permanently  pro- 
vided for,  on  a  scale  of  great  splendor. 

The  sudden  and  terrible  shock  she  had  received,  combined 
with  the  great  affliction  and  anxiety  of  mind  which  she  had 
for  a  long  time  endured,  proved  too  much  for  Madeline's 
strength.  Recovering  from  the  state  of  stupefaction  into 
which  the  sudden  death  of  her  father  happily  plunged  her, 
she  only  exchanged  that  condition  for  one  of  dangerous  and 
active  illness.  When  the  delicate  physical  powers  which  had 
been  sustained  by  an  unnatural  strain  upon  the  mental  ener- 
gies and  a  resolute  determination  not  to  yield,  at  last  give 
way,  their  degree  of  prostration  is  usually  proportionate  to  the 
strength  of  the  effort  which  has  previously  upheld  them.  Thus 
it  was  that  the  illness  which  fell  on  Madeline  was  of  no  slight 
or  temporary  nature,  but  one  which,  for  a  time,  threatened 
her  reason,  and — scarcely  worse — her  life  itself. 

Who,  slowly  recovering  from  a  disorder  so  severe  and  dan- 
gerous, could  be  insensible  to  the  unremitting  attentions  of 
such  a  nurse  as  gentle,  tender,  earnest  Kate  ?  On  whom  could 
the  sweet  soft  voice,  the  light  step,  the  delicate  hand,  the 
quiet  cheerful  noiseless  discharge  of  those  thousand  little  of- 
fices of  kindness  and  relief  which  we  feel  so  deeply  when  we 
are  ill,  and  forget  so  lightly  when  we  are  well — on  whom  could 
they  make  so  deep  an  impression  as  on  a  young  heart  stored 
with  every  pure  and  true  affection  that  women  cherish  ;  almost 
a  stranger  to  the  endearments  and  devotion  of  its  own  sex, 
save  as  it  learnt  them  from  itself ;  rendered,  by  calamity  and 
suffering,  keenly  susceptible  of  the  sympathy  so  long  unknown 
and  so  long  sought  in  vain  !  What  wonder  that  days  became 
as  years  in  knitting  them  together  !  What  wonder,  if  with 
every  hour  of;  returning  health,  there  came  some  stronger  and 
sweeter  recognition  of  the  praises  which  Kate,  when  they  re- 
called old  scenes — they  seemed  old  now,  and  to  have  been 
acted  years  ago — would  lavish  on  her  brother  !  Where  would 
have   been   the  wonder,   even,   if  those  praises  had  found  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  717 

quick  response  in  the  breast  of  Madeline,  and  if,  with  the 
image  of  Nicholas  so  constantly  recurring  in  the  features  of 
his  sister  that  she  could  scarcely  separate  the  two,  she  had 
sometimes  found  it  equally  difficult  to  assign  to  each  the  feel- 
ings they  had  first  inspired,  and  had  imperceptibly  mingled 
with  her  gratitude  to  Nicholas,  some  of  that  warmer  feeling 
which  she  had  assigned  to  Kate  ! 

"  My  dear,"  Mrs.  Nickleby  would  say,  coming  into  the 
room  with  an  elaborate  caution,  calculated  to  discompose  the 
nerves  of  an  invalid  rather  more  than  the  entry  of  a  horse- 
soldier  at  full  gallop  ;  "  how  do  you  find  yourself  to-night  ? 
I  hope  you  are  better  ?  " 

"  Almost  well,  mama,"  Kate  would  reply,  laying  down  her 
work,  and  taking  Madeline's  hand  in  hers. 

"Kate!"  Mrs.  Nickleby  would  say,  reprovingly,  "don't 
talk  so  loud  "  (the  worthy  lady  herself  talking  in  a  whisper 
that  would  have  made  the  blood  of  the  stoutest  man  run  cold 
in  his  veins). 

Kate  would  take  this  reproof  very  quietly,  and  Mrs.  Nickle- 
by, making  every  board  creak  and  every  thread  rustle  as  she 
moved  stealthily  about,  would  add  : 

"  My  son  Nicholas  has  just  come  home,  and  I  have  come, 
according  to  custom,  my  dear,  to  know,  from  your  own  lips, 
exactly  how  you  are  ;  for  he  won't  take  my  account,  and  never 
will." 

"He  is  later  than  usual  to-night,"  perhaps  Madeline  would 
reply.     "  Nearly  half  an  hour." 

"  Well,  I  never  saw  such  people  in  all  my  life  as  you  are, 
for  time,  up  here  !  "  Mrs.  Nickleby  would  exclaim  in  great  as- 
tonishment ;  "  I  declare  I  never  did  !  I  had  not  the  least  idea 
that  Nicholas  was  after  his  time,  not  the  smallest.  Mr.  Nickle- 
by used  to  say — your  poor  papa,  I  am  speaking  of,  Kate  my  dear 
— used  to  say,  that  appetite  was  the  best  clock  in  the  world, 
but  you  have  no  appetite,  my  dear  Miss  Bray,  I  wish  you  had, 
and  upon  my  word  1  really  think  you  ought  to  take  something 
that  would  give  you  one.  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  but  I  ha\'e 
heard  that  two  or  three  dozen  native  lobsters  give  an  appetite, 
though  that  comes  to  the  same  thing  after  all,  for  I  suppose 
you  must  have  an  appetite  before  you  can  take  'em.  If  I  said 
lobsters,  I  meant  oysters,  it's  all  the  same.  Though  really 
how  you  came  to  know  about  Nicholas " 

"  We  happened  to  be  just  talking  about  him,  mama ;  that 
was  it." 


7i8 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


*'  You  never  seem  to  me,  to  be  talking  about  anything  else, 
Kate,  and  upon  my  word  I  am  quite  surprised  at  your  being 
so  very  thoughtless.  You  can  find  subjects  enough  to  talk 
about,  sometimes,  and  when  you  know  how  important  it  is  to 
keep  up  Miss  Bray's  spirits,  and  interest  her,  and  all  that,  it 
really  is  quite  extraordinary  to  me  what  can  induce  you  to 
keep  on  prose,  prose,  prose,  din,  din,  din,  everlastingly,  upon 
the  same  theme.  You  are  a  very  kind  nurse,  Kate,  and  a  very 
good  one,  and  I  know  you  mean  very  well  ;  but  I  will  say  this 
— that  if  it  wasn't  for  me,  I  really  don't  know  what  would  be- 
come of  Miss  Bray's  spirits,  and  so  I  tell  the  doctor  every 
day.  He  says  he  wonders  how  I  sustain  my  own,  and  I  am 
sure  I  very  often  wonder  myself  how  I  can  contrive  to  keep 
up  as  I  do.  Of  course  it's  an  exertion,  but  still,  when  I  know 
how  much  depends  upon  me  in  this  house,  I  am  obliged  to 
make  it.  There's  nothing  praiseworthy  in  that,  but  it's  neces- 
sary, and  I  do  it." 

With  that,  Mrs.  Nickleby  would  draw  up  a  chair,  and  for 
some  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  run  through  a  great  variety  of 
distracting  topics  in  the  most  distracting  manner  possible  : 
tearing  herself  away,  at  length,  on  the  plea  that  she  must  now 
go  and  amuse  Nicholas  while  he  took  his  supper.  After  a 
preliminary  raising  of  his  spirits  with  the  information  that  she 
considered  the  patient  decidedly  worse,  she  would  further 
cheer  him  up,  by  relating  how  dull,  listless,  and  low-spirited 
Miss  Bray  was,  because  Kate  foolishly  talked  about  nothing 
else  but  him  and  family  matters.  When  she  had  made  Nich- 
olas thoroughly  comfortable  with  these  and  other  inspiriting 
remarks,  she  would  discourse  at  length,  on  the  arduous  duties 
she  had  performed  that  day  ;  and,  sometimes,  would  be  moved 
to  tears  in  wondering  how,  if  anything  were  to  happen  to  her- 
self, the  family  would  ever  get  on  without  her. 

At  other  times,  when  Nicholas  came  home  at  night  he 
would  be  accompanied  by  Mr.  Frank  Cheeryble,  who  was  com- 
missioned by  the  brothers  to  inquire  how  Madeline  was,  that 
evening.  On  such  occasions  (and  they  were  of  very  frequent 
occurrence),  Mrs.  Nickleby  deemed  it  of  particular  importance 
that  she  should  have  her  wits  about  her  ;  for,  from  certain 
signs  and  tokens  which  had  attracted  her  attention,  she  shrewdly 
suspected  that  Mr.  Frank,  interested  as  his  uncles  were  in 
Madeline,  came  quite  as  much  to  see  Kate  as  to  inquire  after 
her  ;  the  more  especially  as  the  brothers  were  in  constant  com- 
munication with  the  medical  man,  came   backwards  and   for- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  719 

wards  very  frequently  themselves,  and  received  a  full  report 
from  Nicholas  every  morning.  These  were  proud  times  for 
Mrs.  Nickleby  ;  never  was  anybody  half  so  discreet  and  sage 
as  she,  or  half  so  mysterious  withal  \  and  never  were  there 
such  cunning  generalship,  and  such  unfathomable  designs,  as 
she  brought  to  bear  upon  Mr.  Frank,  with  the  view  of  ascer- 
taining whether  her  suspicions  were  well  founded  :  and  if  so, 
of  tantalizing  him  into  taking  her  into  his  confidence  and 
throwing  himself  upon  her  merciful  consideration.  Extensive 
was  the  artillery,  heavy  and  light,  which  Mrs.  Nickleby  brought 
into  play  for  the  furtherance  of  these  great  schemes  :  various 
and  opposite  were  the  means  she  employed  to  bring  about  the 
end  she  had  in  view.  At  one  time,  she  was  all  cordiality  and 
ease  ;  at  another,  all  stiffness  and  frigidity.  Now,  she  would 
seem  to  open  her  whole  heart  to  her  unhappy  victim  ;  the  next 
time  they  met,  she  would  receive  him  with  the  most  distant 
and  studious  reserve,  as  if  a  new  light  had  broken  in  upon 
her,  and,  guessing  his  intentions,  she  had  resolved  to  check 
them  in  the  bud  ;  as  if  she  felt  it  her  bounden  duty  to  act  with 
Spartan  firmness,  and  at  once  and  for  ever  to  discourage 
hopes  which  never  could  be  realized.  At  other  times,  when 
Nicholas  was  not  there  to  overhear,  and  Kate  was  up  stairs 
busily  tending  her  sick  friend,  the  worthy  lady  would  throw 
out  darl:  hints  of  an  intention  to  send  her  daughter  to  France 
for  three  or  four  years,  or  to  Scotland  for  the  improvement  of 
her  health  impaired  by  her  late  fatigues,  or  to  America  on  a 
visit,  or  anywhere  that  threatened  a  long  and  tedious  separa- 
tion. Nay,  she  even  went  so  far  as  to  hint,  obscurely,  at  an 
attachment  entertained  for  her  daughter  by  the  son  of  an  old 
neighbor  of  theirs,  one  Horatio  Peltirogus  (a  young  gentleman 
who  might  have  been,  at  that  time,  four  years  old,  or  there- 
abouts), and  to  represent  it,  indeed,  as  almost  a  settled  thing 
between  the  families — only  waiting  for  her  daughter's  final  de- 
cision to  come  off  with  the  sanction  of  the  church,  and  to  the 
unspeakable  happiness  and  content  of  all  parties. 

It  was  in  the  full  pride  and  glor\'  of  having  sprung  this 
last  mine  one  night,  with  extraordinary  success,  that  Mrs. 
Nickleby  took  the  opportunity  of  being  left  alone  Avith  her 
son  before  retiring  to  rest,  to  sound  him  on  the  subject  which 
so  occupied  her  thoughts  :  not  doubting  that  they  could  have 
but  one  opinion  respecting  it.  To  this  end,  she  approached 
the  question  with  divers  laudatory  and  appropriate  re- 
marks touching  the  general  amiability  of  Mr.  Frank  Cheeryble. 


y  2  o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  mother,"  said  Nicholas,  "  quite  right. 
He  is  a  fine  fellow." 

"  Good-looking,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby. 

"  Decidedly  good-looking,"  answered  Nicholas. 

"  What  may  you  call  his  nose,  now,  my  dear  ?  "  pursued 
Mrs.  Nickleby,  wishing  to  interest  Nicholas  in  the  subject  to 
the  utmost. 

"  Call  it  ?  "  repeated  Nicholas. 

"  Ah  !  "  returned  his  mother,  "  what  style  of  nose  ?  What 
order  of  architecture,  if  one  may  say  so.  I  am  not  very  learned 
in  noses.     Do  you  call  it  a  Roman  or  a  Grecian  ? " 

"Upon  my  word,  mother,"  said  Nicholas,  laughing,  "as 
well  as  I  remember,  I  should  call  it  a  kind  of  Composite,  or 
mixed  nose.  But  I  have  no  very  strong  recollection  on  the 
subject.  If  it  will  afford  you  any  gratification,  I'll  observe  it 
more  closely,  and  let  you  know." 

"  I  wish  you  would,  mj^ar,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  an 
earnest  look. 

"  Very  well,"  returned  Nicholas.     "  I  will." 

Nicholas  returned  to  the  perusal  of  the  book  he  had  been 
reading,  when  the  dialogue  had  gone  thus  far.  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
after  stopping  a  little  fqr  consideration,  resumed. 

"  He  is  very  much  attached  to  you,  Nicholas,  my  dear." 

Nicholas,  laughingly  said,  as  he  closed  his  book,  that  he 
was  glad  to  hear  it,  and  observed  that  his  mother  seemed  deep 
in  their  new  friend's  confidence  already. 

"  Hem  ! "  said  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  I  don't  know  about  that 
my  dear,  but  I  think  it  is  very  necessary  that  somebody  should 
be  in  his  confidence;  highly  necessary." 

Elated  by  a  look  of  curiosity  from  her  son,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  possessing  a  great  secret,  all  to  herself,  Mrs. 
Nickleby  went  on  with  great  animation  : 

"  I  am  sure,  my  dear  Nicholas,  how  you  can  have  failed 
to  notice  it,  is,  to  me,  quite  extraordinary ;  though  I  don't 
know  why  I  should  say  that,  either,  because  of  course,  as  far 
as  it  goes,  and  to  a  certain  extent,  there  is  a  great  deal  in  this 
sort  of  thing,  especially  in  this  early  stage,  which,  however 
clear  it  may  be  to  females,  can  scarcely  be  expected  to  be  so 
evident  to  men.  1  don't  say  that  I  have  any  particular  pene- 
tration in  such  matters.  I  may  have.  Those  about  me  should 
know  best  about  that,  and  perhaps  do  know.  Upon  that  point, 
I  shall  express  no  opinion,  it  wouldn't  become  me  to  do  so, 
it's  quite  out  of  the  question,  quite." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  721 

Nicholas  snuffed  the  candles,  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  assumed  a  look  of  patient  suf- 
fering and  melancholy  resignation. 

"  I  think  it  my  duty,  Nicholas,  my  dear,"  resumed  his 
mother,  "  to  tell  you  what  I  know  :  not  only  because  you  have 
a  right  to  know  it  too,  and  to  know  everything  that  happens  in 
this  family,  but  because  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  promote 
and  assist  the  thing  very  much  ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that 
the  sooner  one  can  come  to  a  clear  understandina:  on  such 
subjects.  It  IS  always  better,  every  way.  There  are  a  great 
many  things  you  might  do  ;  such  as  taking  a  walk  in  the  gar- 
den sometimes,  or  sitting  up  stairs  in  your  own  room  for  a 
little  while,  or  making  believe  to  fall  asleep  occasionally,  or 
pretending  that  you  recollected  some  business,  and  going  out 
for  an  hour  or  so,  and  taking  Mr.  Smike  with  you.  These 
seem  very  slight  things,  and  I  dare  say  you  will  be  amused 
at  my  making  them  of  so  much  importance  ;  at  the  same  time, 
my  clear,  I  can  assure  you  (and  you'll  find  this  out,  Nicholas, 
for  yourself  one  of  these  days,  if  you  ever  fall  in  love  with 
anybody  :  as  I  trust  and  hope  you  will,  provided  she  is  respect- 
able and  well  conducted,  and  of  course  you'd  never  dream  of 
falling  in  love  with  anybody  who  was  not),  I  say,  I  can  assure 
you  that  a  great  deal  more  depends  upon  these  little'  things, 
than  you  would  suppose  possible.  If  your  poor  papa  was 
alive,  he  would  tell  you  how  much  depended  on  the  parties 
being  left  alone.  Of  course,  you  are  not  to  go  out  of  the  room 
as  if  you  meant  it  and  did  it  on  purpose,  but  as  if  it  was  quite 
an  accident,  and  to  come  back  again  in  the  same  way.  If 
you  cough  in  the  passage  before  you  open  the  door,  or  whistle 
carelessly,  or  hum  a  tune,  or  something  of  that  sort  to  let 
them  know  you're  coming,  its  always  better  ;  because,  of  course 
though  it's  not  only  natural  but  perfectly  correct  and  proper 
under  the  circumstances,  still  it  is  very  confusing  if  you  inter- 
rupt young  people  when  they  are — when  they  are  sitting  on 
the  sofa,  and — and  all  that  sort  of  thing  :  which  is  very  non- 
sensical perhaps,  but  still  they  will  do  it." 

The  profound  astonishment  with  which  her  son  regarded 
her  during  this  long  address,  gradually  increasing  as  it  ap- 
proached its  climax,  in  no  way  discomposed  Mrs.  Nickleby, 
but  rather  exalted  her  opinion  of  her  own  cleverness  ;  there- 
fore, merely  stopping  to  remark  with  much  complacency,  that 
she  had  fully  expected  him  to  be  surprised,  she  entered  on  a 
vast  quantity  of  circumstantial  evidence  of  a  particularly  in- 

46 


722 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


coherent  and  perplexing  kind  ;  the  upshot  of  which  was,  to 
establish  beyond   the  possibility  of  doubt,   that   Mr.  Frank 
Cheeryble  had  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  Kate. 
-  "  With  whom  ?  "  cried  Nicholas. 

Mrs.  Nicklebv  repeated,  with  Kate. 

"  What !     Our  Kate  !     My  sister  !  " 

"  Lord,  Nicholas  !  "  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "whose  Kate 
should  it  be,  if  not  ours;  or  what  should  I  care  about  it,  or 
take  any  interest  in  it  for,  if  it  was  anybody  but  your  sister .'' " 

"  Dear  mother,"  said  Nicholas,  "  surely  it  can't  be  !  " 

"  Very  good,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  great 
confidence.     "Wait  and  see." 

Nicholas  had  never,  until  that  moment,  bestowed  a  thought 
on  the  remote  possibility  of  such  an  occurrence  as  that  which 
was  now  communicated  to  him  ;  for,  besides  that  he  had  been 
much  from  home  of  late  and  closely  occupied  with  other  mat- 
ters, his  own  jealous  fears  had  prompted  the  suspicion  that  some 
secret  interest  in  Madeline,  akin  to  that  which  he  felt  himself, 
occasioned  those  visits  of  Frank  Cheeryble  which  had  recently 
become  so  frequent.  Even  now,  although  he  knew  that  the 
observation  of  an  anxious  mother  was  much  more  likely  to  be 
correct  in  such  a  case  than  his  own,  and  although  she  remind- 
ed him  of  many  little  circumstances,  which,  taken  together, 
were  certainly  susceptible  of  the  construction  she  triumphantly 
put  upon  them,  he  was  not  quite  convinced  but  that  they 
arose  from  mere  good-natured  thoughtless  gallantry,  which 
would  have  dictated  the  same  conduct  towards  any  other  girl 
who  was  young  and  pleasing.  At  all  events,  he  hoped  so,  and 
therefore  tried  to  believe  it. 

"  I  am  very  much  disturbed  by  what  you  tell  me,"  said 
Nicholas,  after  a  little  reflection,  "  though  I  yet  hope  you  may 
be  mistaken." 

"  I  don't  understand  why  you  should  hope  so,"  said  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  "  I  confess ;  but  you  may  depend  upon  it  I  am 
not." 

"  What  of  Kate  ?  "  inquired  Nicholas. 

"Why  that,  my  dear,"  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby,  "  is  just 
the  point  upon  which  I  am  not  yet  satisfied.  During  this 
sickness,  she  lias  been  constantly  at  Madeline's  bedside — never 
were  two  people  so  fond  of  each  other  as  they  have  grown — 
and  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Nicholas,  I  have  rather  kept  her 
away  now  and  then,  because  I  think  it's  a  good  plan,  and 
urges  a  young  man  on.     He  doesn't  get  too  sure,  you  know." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  723 

She  said  this  with  such  a  mingUng  of  high  delight  and  self- 
congratulation,  that  it  was  inexpressibly  painful  to  Nicholas 
to  dash  her  hopes ;  but  he  felt  that  there  was  only  one  honor- 
able course  before  him,  and  that  he  was  bound  to  take  it. 

"  Dear  mother,"  he  said  kindly,  "  don't  you  see  that  if 
there  were  really  any  serious  inclination  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Frank  towards  Kate,  and  we  suffered  ourselves  for  a  moment 
to  encourage  it,  we  should  be  acting  a  most  dishonorable  and 
ungrateful  part  ?  I  ask  you  if  you  don't  see  it,  but  I  need  not 
say,  that  I  know  you  don't,  or  you  would  have  been  more 
strictly  on  your  guard.  Let  me  explain  my  meaning  to  you. 
Remember  how  poor  we  are." 

Mrs.  Nickleby  shook  her  head,  and  said,  through  her  tears, 
that  poverty  was  not  a  crime. 

"  No,"  said  Nicholas,'  "and  for  that  reason  povert}' should 
engender  an  honest  pride,  that  it  may  not  lead  and  tempt  us 
to  unworthy  actions,  and  that  we  may  preserve  the  self- 
respect  which  a  hewer  of  wood  and  drawer  of  water  may 
maintain,  and  does  better  in  maintaining  than  a  monarch  in 
presen-ing  his.  Think  what  we  owe  to  these  two  brothers  ; 
remember  what  they  have  done,  and  what  they  do  every  day 
for  us,  with  a  generosity  and  delicacy  for  which  the  devotion 
of  our  whole  lives  would  be  a  most  imperfect  and  indequate  re- 
turn. What  kind  of  return  would  that  be  which  would  be 
comprised  in  our  permitting  their  nephew,  their  only  relative, 
whom  they  regard  as  a  son,  and  for  whom  it  would  be  mere 
childishness  to  suppose  they  have  not  formed  plans  suitably 
adapted  to  the  education  he  has  had,  and  the  fortune  he  will 
inherit — in  our  permitting  him  to  marry  a  portionless  girl,  so 
closely  connected  with  us,  that  the  irresistible  inference  must 
be  that  he  was  entrapped  by  a  plot,  that  it  was  a  deliberate 
scheme,  and  a  speculation  amongst  us  three.  Bring  the  matter 
clearly  before  yourself,  mother.  Now,  how  would  you  feel,  if 
they  were  married,  and  the  brothers,  coming  here'  on  one  of 
those  kind  errands  which  bring  them  here  so  often,  you  had  to 
break  out  to  them  the  truth  1  Would  you  be  at  ease,  and  feel 
that  you  had  played  an  open  part  ?  " 

Poor  Mrs.  Nickleby,  cr^'ing  more  and  more,  murmured 
that  of  course  Mr.  Frank  would  ask  the  consent  of  his  uncles 
first. 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  that  would  place  him  in  a  better  situa- 
tion with  them,"  said  Nicholas,  '-'but  we  should  still  be  open 
to  the  same  suspicions  ;  the  distance  between  us  would  still 


724 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


be  as  great,  the  advantages  to  be  gained  would  still  be  as 
manifest  as  now.  We  may  be  reckoning  without  our  host, 
in  all  this,"  he  added  more  cheerfully,  "  and  I  trust,  and 
almost  believe  we  are.  If  it  be  otherwise,  I  have  that  con- 
fidence in  Kate  that  I  know  she  will  feel  as  I  do — and  in  you, 
dear  mother,  to  be  assured  that  after  a  little  consideration 
you  will  do  the  same." 

After  many  more  representations  and  entreaties,  Nicholas 
obtained  a  promise  from  Mrs.  Nickleby  that  she  would  try  all 
she  could,  to  think  as  he  did  ;  and  that  if  Mr.  Frank  perse- 
vered in  his  attentions  she  would  endeavor  to  discourage  them, 
or,  at  the  least,  would  render  him  no  countenance  or  assistance. 
He  determined  to  forbear  mentioning  the  subject  to  Kate,  until 
he  was  quite  convinced  that  there  existed  a  real  necessity  for 
his  doing  so ;  and  he  resolved  to  assure  himself,  as  well  as  he 
could  by  close  personal  observation,  of  the  exact  position  of 
affairs.  This  was  a  very  wise  resolution,  but  he  was  pre- 
vented from  putting  it  in  practice,  by  a  new  source  of  anxiety 
and  uneasiness. 

Smike  became  alarmingly  ill ;  so  reduced  and  exhausted 
that  he  could  scarcely  move  from  room  to  room  without  as- 
sistance ;  so  worn  and  emaciated,  that  it  was  painful  to  look 
upon  him.  Nicholas  was  warned  by  the  same  medical  au- 
thority to  whom  he  had  at  first  appealed,  that  the  last  chance 
and  hope  of  his  life  depended  on  his  being  instantly  removed 
from  London.  That  part  of  Devonshire  in  which  Nicholas 
had  been  himself  bred,  was  named  as  the  most  favorable 
spot ;  but  this  advice  was  cautiously  coupled  with  the  infor- 
mation that  whoever  accompanied  him  thither,  must  be  pre- 
pared for  the  worst ;  for  every  token  of  rapid  consumption 
had  appeared,  and  he  might  never  return  alive. 

The  kind  brothers,  who  were  acquainted  with  the  poor 
creature's  sad  histoiy,  despatched  old  Tim  to  be  present  at 
this  consultation.  That  same  morning,  Nicholas  was  sum- 
moned by  brother  Charles  into  his  private  room,  and  thus  ad- 
dressed : 

"  My  dear  sir,  no  time  must  be  lost.  This  lad  shall  not 
die,  if  such  human  means  as  we  can  use,  can  save  his  life  ; 
neither  shall  he  die  alone,  and  in  a  strange  place.  Remove 
him  to-morrow  morning,  see  that  he  has  every  comfort  that  his 
situation  requires,  and  don't  leave  him  ;  don't  leave  him,  my 
dear  sir,  until  you  know  that  there  is  no  longer  any  immediate 
danger.     It  would  be  hard,  indeed,  to  part  you  now.     No,  no, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  725 

no  !  Tim  shall  wait  upon  you  to-night,  sir ;  Tim  shall  wait 
upon  you  to-night  with  a  parting  word  or  two.  Brother  Ned, 
my  dear  fellow,  Mr.  Nickleby  waits  to  shake  hands  and  say 
good-by  ;  Mr.  Nickleby  won't  be  long  gone  ;  this  poor  chap 
will  soon  get  better,  very  soon  get  better  ;  and  then  he'll  find 
out  some  nice  homely  country  people  to  leave  him  with,  and 
will  go  backwards  and  forwards  sometimes — backwards  and 
forwards  you  know,  Ned.  And  there's  no  cause  to  be  down- 
hearted, for  he'll  very  soon  get  better,  very  soon.  Won't  he^ 
won't  he,  Ned  ?  " 

What  Tim  Linkinwater  said,  or  what  he  brought  with  him 
that  night,  needs  not  to  be  told.  Next  morning  Nicholas  and 
his  feeble  companion  began  their  journey. 

And  who  but  one — and  that  one  he  who,  but  for  those  who 
crowded  round  him  then,  had  never  met  a  look  of  kindness, 
or  known  a  word  of  pity — could  tell  what  agony  of  mind,  what 
blighted  thoughts,  what  unavailing  sorrow,  were  involved  in 
that  sad  parting  ! 

"  See,"  cried  Nicholas  eagerly,  as  he  looked  from  the 
coach  window,  "  they  are  at  the  corner  of  the  lane  still !  And 
now  there's  Kate,  poor  Kate  whom  you  said  you  couldn't 
bear  to  say  good-by  to,  waving  her  handkerchief.  Don't  go, 
without  one  gesture  of  farewell  to  Kate  !  " 

"  I  cannot  make  it ! "  cried  his  trembling  companion,  fall- 
ing back  m  his  seat  and  covering  his  eyes.  "  Do  you  see 
her  now  ?     Is  she  there  still.?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  said  Nicholas  earnestly.  "  There  !  She 
waves  her  hand  again  !  I  have  answered  it  for  you — and  now 
they  are  out  of  sight.  Do  not  give  way  so  bitterly,  dear 
friend,  don't.     You  will  meet  them  all  again." 

He  whom  he  thus  encouraged,  raised  his  withered  hands 
and  clasped  them  fervently  together. 

"  In  heaven.     I  humbly  pray  to  God,  in  heaven  !  " 

It  sounded  like  the  prayer  of  a  broken  heart. 


726 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

RALPH  NICKLEBY,  BAFFLED  BY  HIS  NEPHEW  IN  HIS  LATE 
DESIGN,  HATCHES  A  SCHEME  OF  RETALIATION  WHICH 
ACCIDENT  SUGGESTS  TO  HIM,  AND  TAKES  INTO  HIS  COUN- 
SELS   A    TRIED    AUXILIARY. 

The  course  which  these  adventures  shape  out  for  them- 
selves, and  imperatively  call  upon  the  historian  to  observe, 
now  demands  that  they  should  revert  to  the  point  they  attained 
previous  to  the  commencement  of  the  last  chapter,  when 
Ralph  Nickleby  and  Arthur  Gride  were  left  together  in  the 
house  where  death  had  so  suddenly  reared  his  dark  and  heavy 
banner. 

With  clenched  hands,  and  teeth  ground  together  so  firm 
and  tight  that  no  locking  of  the  jaws  could  have  fixed  and 
riveted  them  more  securely,  Ralph  stood,  for  some  minutes, 
in  the  attitude  in  which  he  had  last  addressed  his  nephew; 
breathing  heavily,  but  as  rigid  and  motionless  in  other  respects 
as  if  he  had  been  a  brazen  statue.  After  a  time,  he  began 
by  slow  degrees,  as  a  man  rousing  himself  from  heavy  slumber, 
to  relax.  For  a  moment  he  shook  his  clasped  fist  towards  the 
door  by  which  Nicholas  had  disappeared  ;  and  then  thrusting 
it  into  his  breast,  as  if  to  repress  by  force  even  this  show  of 
passion,  turned  round  and  confronted  the  less  hardy  usurer, 
who  had  not  yet  risen  from  the  ground. 

The  cowering  wretch,  who  still  shook  in  every  limb,  and 
whose  few  gray  hairs  trembled  and  quivered  on  his  head  with 
abject  dismay,  tottered  to  his  feet  as  he  met  Ralph's  eye,  and, 
shielding  his  face  with  both  hands,  protested,  while  lie  crept 
towards  the  door,  that  it  was  no  fault  of  his. 

*'  Who  said  it  was,  man  ?  "  returned  Ralph,  in  a  suppressed 
voice.     "  Who  said  it  was  ? " 

"You  looked  as  if  you  thought  I  was  to  blame,"  said 
Gride,  timidly. 

"  Pshaw !  "  Ralph  muttered,  forcing  a  laugh.  "  I  blame 
him  for  not  living  an  hour  longer.  One  hour  longer  would 
have  been  enough.     I  blame  no  one  else." 

"  N — n — no  one  else  }  "  said  Gride. 

"Not  for  this  mischance,"  replied   Ralph.     "I  have  an 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


727 


old  score  to  clear  with  that  young  fellow  who  has  carried  off 
your  mistress ;  but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  blustering 
just  now,  for  we  should  soon  have  been  quit  of  him,  but  for 
this  cursed  accident." 

There  was  something  so  unnatural  in  the  calmness  with 
which  Ralph  Nickleby  spoke,  when  coupled  with  his  face  ; 
there  was  something  so  unnatural  and  ghastly,  in  the  contrast 
between  his  harsh  slow  steady  voice  (only  altered  by  a  certain 
halting  of  the  breath"  which  made  him  pause  between  almost 
every  word,  like  a  drunken  man  bent  upon  speaking  plainly), 
and  his  face's  evidence  of  intense  and  violent  passion,  and  the 
struggle  he  made  to  keep  it  under  ;  that  if  the  dead  body 
which  lay  above,  had  stood,  instead  of  him,  before  the  cower- 
ing Gride,  it  could  scarcely  have  presented  a  spectacle  which 
would  have  terrified  him  more. 

"  The  coach,"  said  Ralph  after  a  time,  during  which  he 
had  struggled  like  some  strong  man  against  a  fit.  "  We  came 
in  a  coach.     Is  it  waiting  ?  " 

Gride  gladly  availed  himself  of  the  pretext  for  going  to 
the  window  to  see.  Ralph,  keeping  his  face  steadily  the 
other  way,  tore  at  his  shirt  with  the  hand  he  had  thrust  into 
his  breast,  and  muttered  in  a  hoarse  whisper  : 

"  Ten  thousand  pounds  !  He  said  ten  thousand  !  The 
precise  sum  paid  in  but  yesterday  for  the  two  mortgages,  and 
which  would  have  gone  out  again,  at  heavy  interest,  to- 
morrow. If  that  house  has  failed,  and  he  the  first  to  bring 
the  news  ! — Is  the  coach  there  .''  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Gride,  startled  by  the  fierce  tone  of  the 
inquiry.     "  It's  here.  Dear,  dear,  what  a  fiery  man  you  are  !  " 

"  Come  here,"  said  Ralph,  beckoning  to  him.  "  We 
mustn't  make  a  show  of  being  disturbed.  We'll  go  down  arm 
in  arm." 

"  But  you  pinch  me  black  and  blue,"  urged  Gride. 

Ralph  let  him  go,  impatiently,  and  descending  the  stairs 
with  his  usual  firm  and  heavy  tread,  got  into  the  coach.  Ar- 
thur Gride  followed.  After  looking  doubtfully  at  Ralph  when 
the  man  asked  where  he  was  to  drive,  and  finding  that  he 
remained  silent  and  expressed  no  wish  upon  the  subject, 
Arthur  mentioned  his  own  house,  and  thither  they  proceeded. 

On  their  way,  Ralph  sat  in  the  furthest  corner  with  folded 
arms,  and  uttered  not  a  word.  With  his  chin  sunk  on  his 
breast,  and  his  downcast  eyes  quite  hidden  by  the  contraction 
of  his  knotted  brows,  he  might  have  been  asleep,  for  any  sign 


f 
728  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

of  consciousness  he  gave,  until  the  coach  stopped ;  when  he 
raised  his  head,  and,  glancing  through  the  window,  inquired 
what  place  that  was  ? 

"  My  house,"  answered  the  disconsolate  Gride,  affected 
perhaps  by  its  loneliness.     "  Oh  dear  !     My  house." 

"  True,"  said  Ralph.  "  I  have  not  observed  the  way  we 
came.  I  should  like  a  glass  of  water.  You  have  that  in  the 
house,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  You  shall  have  a  glass  of — of  anything  you  like," 
answered  Gride,  with  a  groan.  "  It's  no  use  knocking,  coach- 
man.    Ring  the  bell  !  " 

The  man  rang,  and  rang,  and  rang  again  ;  then,  knocked 
until  the  street  re-echoed  with  the  sounds  ;  then,  listened  at 
the  keyhole  of  the  door.  Nobody  came.  The  house  was 
silent  as  the  grave. 

"  How's  this  1 "  said  Ralph,  impatiently. 

"Peg  is  so  very  deaf,"  answered  Gride  with  a  look  of 
anxiety  and  alarm.  '•  Oh  dear  !  Ring  again,  coachman.  She 
sees  the  bell." 

Again  the  man  rang  and  knocked,  and  knocked  and  rang. 
Some  of  the  neighbors  threw  up  their  windows,  and  called 
across  the  street  to  each  other  that  old  Gride's  housekeeper 
must  have  dropped  down  dead.  Others  collected  round  the 
coach,  and  gave  vent  to  various  surmises  ;  some,  held  that 
she  had  fallen  asleep ;  some,  that  she  had  burnt  herself  to 
death  ;  some,  that  she  had  got  drunk  ;  one  very  fat  man,  that 
she  had  seen  something  to  eat  which  had  frightened  her  so 
much  (not  being  used  to  it)  that  she  had  fallen  into  a  fit. 
This  last  suggestion  particularly  delighted  the  bystanders, 
who  cheered  it  uproariously,  and  were  with  some  difficulty 
deterred  from  dropping  down  the  area  and  breaking  open  the 
kitchen  door  to  ascertain  the  fact.  Nor  was  this  all.  Rumors 
having  gone  abroad,  that  Arthur  was  to  be  married  that 
morning,  very  particular  inquiries  were  made  after  the  bride, 
who  was  held  by  the  majority  to  be  disguised  in  the  person  of 
Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby,  which  gave  rise  to  much  jocose  indig- 
nation at  the  public  appearance  of  a  bride  in  boots  and  pan- 
taloons, and  called  forth  a  great  many  hoots  and  groans.  At 
length,  the  two  money-lenders  obtained  shelter  in  a  house 
next  door,  and,  being  accommodated  with  a  ladder,  clambered 
over  the  wall  of  the  back  yard — which  was  not  a  high  one — • 
and  descended  in  safety  on  the  other  side. 

"  I  am   almost  afraid  to  go  in,  I   declare,"  said   Arthur, 


•NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  729 

turning  to  Ralph  when  they  were  alone.  "  Suppose  she 
should  be  murdered.  Lying  with  her  brains  knocked  out  by 
a  poker,  eh  ?  " 

"  Suppose  she  were,"  said  Ralph.  "  I  tell  you,  I  wish 
such  things  were  more  common  than  they  are,  and  more  easily 
done.     You  may  stare  and  shiver.     I  do  ?  " 

He  applied  himself  to  a  pump  in  the  yard,  and,  having 
taken  a  deep  draught  of  water  and  flung  a  quantity  on  his 
head  and  face,  regained  his  accustomed  manner  and  led  the 
way  into  the  house  :  Gride  following  close  at  his  heels. 

It  was  the  same  dark  place  as  ever  :  every  room  dismal 
and  silent  as  it  was  wont  to  be,  and  every  ghostly  article  of 
furniture  in  its  customary  place.  The  iron  heart  of  the  grim 
old  clock,  undisturbed  by  all  the  noise  without,  still  beat 
heavily  within  its  dusty  case  ;  the  tottering  presses  slunk  from 
the  sight,  as  usual,  in  their  melancholy  corners  ;  the  echoes 
of  footsteps  returned  the  same  dreary  sound  ;  the  long-legged 
spider  paused  in  his  nimble  run,  and,  scared  by  the  sight  of 
men  in  that  his  dull  domain,  hung  motionless  on  the  wall, 
counterfeiting  death  until  they  should  have  passed  him  by. 

From  cellar  to  garret  went  the  two  usurers,  opening  every 
creaking  door  and  looking  into  every  deserted  room.  But  no 
Peg  was  there.  At  last,  they  sat  them  down  in  the  apart- 
ment which  Arthur  Gride  usually  inhabited,  to  rest  after  their 
search. 

"  The  hag  is  out,  on  some  preparation  for  your  wedding 
festivities,  I  suppose,"  said  Ralph,  preparing  to  depart.  "  See 
here  !  I  destroy  the  bond  ;  we  shall  never  need  it  now." 

Gride,  who  had  been  peering  narrowly  about  the  room, 
fell,  at  that  moment,  upon  his  knees  before  a  large  chest,  and 
uttered  a  terrible  yell. 

"  How  now  ?  "  said  Ralph,  looking  sternly  round. 

"  Robbed  !    Robbed  !  "  screamed  Arthur  Gride. 

"  Robbed  !    Of  money  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no.     Worse  !  far  worse  !  " 

"  Of  what .?  "  demanded  Ralph. 

"  Worse  than  money,  worse  than  money  !  "  cried  the  old 
man,  casting  the  papers  out  of  the  chest,  like  some  beast  tear- 
ing up  the  earth.  "  She  had  better  have  stolen  money — all 
my  money — I  haven't  much  !  She  had  better  have  made  me  a 
beggar,  than  have  done  this  ! " 

"  Done  what  ?  "  said  Ralph.  "  Done  what,  you  devil's 
dotard  ? " 


73° 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.. 


Still  Gride  made  no  answer,  but  tore  and  scratched  among 
the  papers,  and  yelled  and  screeched  like  a  fiend  in  torment. 

"  There  is  something  missing,  you  say,"  said  Ralph, 
shaking  him  furiously  by  the  collar.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Papers,  deeds.  I  am  a  ruined  man.  Lost,  lost !  I  am 
robbed,  I  am  ruined  !  She  saw  me  reading  it — reading  it  of 
late — I  did  very  often — She  watched  me,  saw  me  put  it  in  the 
box  that  fitted  into  this,  the  -box  is  gone,  she  has  stolen  it. 
Damnation  seize  her,  she  has  robbed  me  !  " 

"Of  what P''  cried  Ralph,  on  whom  a  sudden  light  ap- 
peared to  break,  for  his  eyes  flashed  and  his  frame  trembled 
with  agitation  as  he  clutched  Gride  by  his  bony  arm.  "  Of 
what } " 

"  She  don't  know  what  it  is  ;  she  can't  read  !  "  shrieked 
Gride,  not  heeding  the  inquiry.  "  There's  only  one  way  in 
which  money  can  be  made  of  it,  and  that  is  by  taking  it  to  her. 
Somebody  will  read  it  for  lier  and  tell  her  what  to  do.  She 
and  her  accomplice  will  get  money  for  it  and  be  let  off  be- 
sides ;  they'll  make  a  merit  of  it — say  they  found  it — knew  it 
— and  be  evidence  against  me.  The  only  person  it  will  fall 
upon,  is  me,  me,  me  !  " 

"  Patience  ! ','  said  Ralph,  clutching  him  still  tighter  and 
eyeing  him  with  a  sidelong  look,  so  fixed  and  eager  as  suffi- 
ciently to  denote  that  he  had  some  hidden  purpose  in  what  he 
was  about  to  say.  "  Hear  reason.  She  can't  have  been  gone 
long.  I'll  call  the  police.  Do  you  but  give  information  of 
what  she  has  stolen,  and  they'll  lay  hands  upon  her,  trust  me. 
Here!    Help!" 

"  No,  no,  no,"  screamed  the  old  man,  putting  his  hand  on 
Ralph's  mouth.     "I  can't,  I  daren't." 

"  Help  !  help  !  "  cried  Ralph. 

"No,  no,  no,"  shrieked  the  other,  stamping  on  the  ground 
with  the  energy  of  a  madman.  "  I  tell  you  no.  I  daren't, 
I  daren't !  " 

"  Daren't  make  this  robbery  public  1 "  said  Ralph. 

"  No  !  "  rejoined  Gride,  wringing  his  hands.  "  Hush  ! 
Hush  !  Not  a  word  of  this  ;  not  a  word  must  be  said.  I  am 
undone.  Whichever  way  I  turn,  I  am  undone.  I  am  betray- 
ed.    I  shall  be  given  up.     I  shall  die  in  Newgate  ! " 

With  frantic  exclamations  such  as  these,  and  with  many 
others  in  which  fear,  grief,  and  rage,  were  strangely  blended, 
the  panic-stricken  wretch  gradually  subdued  his  first  loud  out- 
cry, until  it  had  softened  down  into  a  low  despairing  moan, 


i 


r" 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  731 

chequered  now  and  then  by  a  howl,  as,  going  over  such  papers 
as  were  left  in  the  chest,  he  discovered  some  new  loss.  With 
very  little  excuse  for  departing  so  abruptly,  Ralph  left  him, 
and,  greatly  disappointing  the  loiterers  outside  the  house  by 
telling  them  there  was  nothing  the  matter,  got  into  the  coach 
and  was  driven  to  his  own  home. 

A  letter  lay  on  his  table.  He  let  it  lie  there,  for  some 
time,  as  if  he  had  not  the  courage  to  open  it,  but  at  length 
did  so  and  turned  deadly  pale. 

"  The  worst  has  happened,"  he  said,  "  the  house  has  failed. 
I  see.  The  rumor  was  abroad  in  the  City  last  night,  and 
reached  the  ears  of  those  merchants.     Well,  well  !  " 

He  strode  violently  up  and  down  the  room  and  stopped 
again. 

"  Ten  thousand  pounds  !  And  only  lying  there  for  a  day 
— for  one  day  !  How  many  anxious  years,  how  many  pinch- 
ing days  and  sleepless  nights,  before  I  scraped  together  that 
ten  thousand  pounds  ! — Ten  thousand  pounds  !  How  many 
proud  painted  dames  would  have  fawned  and  smiled,  and 
how  many  spendthrift  blockheads  done  me  lip-service  to  my 
face  and  cursed  me  in  their  hearts,  while  I  turned  that  ten 
thousand  pounds  into  twenty  !  While  I  ground,  and  pinched, 
and  used  these  needy  borrowers  for  my  pleasure  and  profit 
what  smooth-tongued  speeches,  and  courteous  looks,  and  civil 
letters,  they  would  have  given  m'e  !  The  cant  of  the  lying 
world  is,  that  men  like  me  compass  our  riches  by  dissimula- 
tion and  treachery  :  by  fawning,  cringing,  and  stooping.  Why, 
how  many  lies,  what  mean  evasions,  what  humbled  behavior 
from  upstarts  who,  but  for  my  money,  would  spurn  me  aside 
as  they  do  their  betters  every  day,  would  that  ten  thousand 
pounds  have  brought  me  in  !  Grant  that  I  had  doubled  it — 
made  cent,  per  cent. — for  every  sovereign  told  another — there 
would  not  be  one  piece  of  money  in  all  the  heap  which 
wouldn't  represent  ten  thousand  mean  and  paltry  lies,  told, 
not  by  the  money-lender,  oh  no  !  but  by  the  money-borrowers, 
your  liberal,  thoughtless,  generous,  dashing  folks,  who  wouldn't 
be  so  mean  as  save  a  sixpence  for  the  world  !  " 

Striving,  as  it  would  seem,  to  lose  part  of  the  bitterness 
of  his  regrets,  in  the  bitterness  of  these  other  thoughts, 
Ralph  continued  to  pace  the  room.  There  was  less  and  less 
of  resolution  in  his  manner  as  his  mind  gradually  reverted 
to  his  loss  ;  at  length,  dropping  into  his  elbow-chair  and  grasp- 
ing its  sides  so  firmly  that  they  creaked  again,  he  said  : 


y^i    '  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  The  time  has  been  when  nothing  could  have  moved  me 
like  the  loss  of  this  great  sum.  Nothing.  For  births,  deaths, 
marriages,  and  all  the  events  which  are  of  interest  to  most 
men,  have  (unless  they  are  connected  with  gain  or  loss  of 
money)  no  interest  for  me.  But  now,  I  swear,  I  mix  up  with 
the  loss,  his  triumph  in  telling  it.  If  he  had  brought  it  about, 
— I  almost  feel  as  if  he  had — I  couldn't  hate  him  more.  Let 
me  but  retaliate  upon  him,  by  degrees,  however  slow — let  me 
but  begin  to  get  the  better  of  him,  let  me  but  turn  the  scale 
— and  I  can  bear  it." 

His  meditations  were  long  and  deep.  They  terminated 
in  his  despatching  a  letter  by  Newman,  addressed  to  Mr. 
Squeers  at  the  Saracen's  Head,  with  instructions  to  inquire 
whether  he  had  arrived  in  town,  and,  if  so,  to  wait  an  answer. 
Newman  brought  back  the  information  that  Mr.  Squeers  had 
come  by  mail  that  morning,  and  had  received  the  letter  in 
bed  ;  but  that  he  sent  his  duty  and  word  that  he  would  get  up 
and  wait  upon  Mr.  Nickleby  directly. 

The  interval  between  the  delivery  of  this  message,  and 
the  arrival  of  Mr.  Squeers,  was  very  short ;  but,  before  he 
came,  Ralph  had  suppressed  every  sign  of  emotion,  and  once 
more  regained  the  hard,  immovable,  inflexible  manner  which 
was  habitual  to  him,  and  to  which,  perhaps,  was  ascribable  no 
small  part  of  the  influence  which,  over  many  men  of  no  very 
strong  prejudices  on  the  score  of  morality,  he  could  exert 
almost  at  will. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Squeers,"  he  said,  welcoming  that  worthy  with 
his  accustomed  smile,  of  which  a  sharp  look  and  a  thoughtful 
frown  were  part  and  parcel :  "  how  do  you  do  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  "  I'm  pretty  well.  So's  the 
family,  and  so's  the  boys,  except  for  a  sort  of  rash  as  is  a 
running  through  the  school,  and  rather  put  'em  off  their  feed. 
But  it's  a  ill  wind  as  blows  no  good  to  nobody  ;  that's  what  I 
always  say  when  them  lads  has  a  wisitation.  A  wisitation, 
sir,  is  the  lot  of  mortality.  Mortality  itself,  sir,  is  a  wisitation. 
The  world  is  chock  full  of  wisitations  ;  and  if  a  boy  repines 
at  a  wisitation  and  makes  you  uncomfortable  with  his  noise, 
he  must  have  his  head  punched.  That's  going  according  to 
the  scripter,  that  is." 

"  Mr.  Squeers,"  said  Ralph,  dryly. 

"  Sir." 

"  We'll  avoid  these  precious  morsels  of  morality  if  you 
please,  and  talk  of  business." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  733 

"With  all  my  heart,  sir,"  rejoined   Squeers,  "  and  first  let 

me  say " 

"  First  let  me  say,  if  you  please. Noggs  !  " 

Newman  presented  himself  when  the  summons  had  been 
twice  or  thrice  repeated  and  asked  if  his  master  called. 

"  I  did.  Go  to  your  dinner.  And  go  at  once.  Do  you 
hear  ? " 

"  It  an't  time,"  said  Newman,  doggedly. 
"  My  time  is  yours,  and  I  say  it  is,"  returned  Ralph. 
"  You  alter  it  every  day,"  said  Newman.     "  It  isn't  fair." 
"  You  don't  keep  many  cooks,  and  can  easily  apologize  to 
them  for  the  trouble,"  retorted  Ralph.     "  Begone,  sir !  " 

Ralph  not  only  issued  this  order  in  his  most  peremptory 
manner,  but,  under  pretence  of  fetching  some  papers  from 
the  little  office,  saw  it  obeyed,  and  when  Newman  had  left  the 
house,  chained  the  door,  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  his  re- 
turning secretly,  by  means  of  his  latch  key. 

"  I  have  reason  to  suspect  that  fellow,"  said  Ralph,  when 
he  returned  to  his  own  office.  "Therefore  until  I  have 
thought  of  the  shortest  and  least  troublesome  way  of  ruining 
him,°I  hold  it  best  to  keep  him  at  a  distance." 

"  It  wouldn't  take  much  to  ruin  him,  I  should  think,"  said 
Squeers,  with  a  grin. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  answered  Ralph.  "  Nor  to  ruin  a  great 
many  people  whom  I  know.     \  ou  were  going  to  say — —  ?  " 

Ralph's  summary  and  matter-of-course  way  of  holding  up 
this  example,  and  throwing  out  the  hint  that  followed  it,  had 
evidently  an  effect  (as  doubtless  it  was  designed  to  have)  upon 
Mr.  Squeers,  who  said,  after  a  little  hesitation  and  in  a  much 
more  subdued  tone  : 

"  Why,  what  I  was  a  going  to  say,  sir,  is,  that  this  here 
business  regarding  of  that  ungrateful  and  hard-hearted  chap, 
Snawley  senior,  puts  me  out  of  my  way,  and  occasions  a  in- 
conveniency  quite  unparalleled  ;  besides,  as  I  may  say,  making, 
for  whole  weeks  together,  Mrs.  Squeers  a  perfect  widder.  It's 
a  pleasure  to  me  to  act  with  you,  of  course." 
"Of  course,"  said  Ralph,  dryly. 

"Yes,  I  said  of  course,"  resumed  Mr.  Squeers,  rubbing  his 

knees  ;  "  but  at  the  same  time,  when  one  comes,  as  I  do  now, 

better  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  take  a  afferdavid, 

it  does  put  a  man  out  a  good  deal,  letting  alone  the  risk." 

"And  where  mav  the  risk  be,  Mr.  Squeers?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  I  said,  letting  alone  the  risk,"  replied  Squeers,  evasively. 

"  And  I  said,  where  was  the  risk  ? " 


y 2 4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  I  wasn't  complaining,  you  know,  Mr.  Nickleby,"  pleaded 
Squeers.     "  Upon  my  word  I  never  see  such  a " 

"  I  ask  you  where  is  the  risk  ?  "  repeated  Ralph,  emphati- 
cally. 

"  Where  the  risk  ?  "  returned  Squeers,  rubbing  his  knees 
still  harder.  "  Why,  it  an't  necessary  to  mention.  Certain 
subjects  is  best  awoided.     Oh,  you  know  what  risk  I  mean." 

"  How  often  have  1  told  you,"  said  Ralph,  "  and  how  often 
am  I  to  tell  you,  that  you  run  no  risk  ?  What  have  you  sworn, 
or  what  are  you  asked  to  swear,  but  that  at  such  and  such  a 
time  a  boy  was  left  with  you  by  the  name  of  Smike  ;  that  he 
was  at  your  school  for  a  given  number  of  years,  was  lost  under 
such  and  such  circumstances,  is  now  found,  and  has  been 
identified  by  you  in  such  and  such  keeping.  This  is  all  true  ; 
is  it  not  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Squeers,  "  that's  all  true." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Ralph,  "  what  risk  do  you  run  ?  Who 
swears  to  a  lie  but  Snawley  ;  a  man  whom  I  have  paid  much 
less  than  I  have  you  ?  " 

"  He  certainly  did  it  cheap,  did  Snawley,"  observed 
Squeers. 

"  He  did  it  cheap  !  "  retorted  Ralph,  testily,  "  yes,  and  he 
did  it  well,  and  carries  it  off  with  a  hypocritical  face  and  a 
sanctified  air,  but  you  !  Risk  !  What  do  you  mean  by  risk .? 
The  certificates  are  all  genuine.  Snawley  had  another  son, 
he  has  been  married  twice,  his  first  wife  is  dead,  none  but  her 
ghost  could  tell  that  she  didn't  write  that  letter,  none  but 
Snawley  himself  can  tell  that  this  is  not  his  son,  and  that  this 
son  is  food  for  worms  !  The  only  perjury  is  Snawley's,  and  I 
fancy  he  is  pretty  well  used  to  it.     Where's  your  risk  ?  " 

"Why,  you  know,"  said  Squeers,  fidgeting  in  his  chair,  "  if 
you  come  to  that,  I  might  say  where's  yours  ? " 

"  You  might  say  where's  mine  !  "  returned  Ralph  ;  "  you 
may  say  where's  mine.  I  don't  appear  in  the  business,  neither 
do  you.  All  Snawley's  interest  is  to  stick  well  to  the  story 
he  has  told ;  all  his  risk  is,  to  depart  from  it  in  the  least. 
Talk  oi  your  risk  in  the  conspiracy  !  " 

"  I  say,"  remonstrated  Squeers,  looking  uneasily  round ; 
"  don't  call  it  that !     Just  as  a  favor,  don't." 

"  Call  it  what  you  like,"  said  Ralph,  irritably,  "  but  at- 
tend to  me.  This  tale  was  originally  fabricated  as  a  means  of 
annoyance  against  one  who  hurt  your  trade  and  half  cudgelled 
you  to  death,  and  to  enable  you  to  obtain   repossession  of  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  735 

half-dead  drudge  whom  you  wished  to  regain,  because,  while 
you  wreaked  your  vengeance  on  him  for  his  share  in  the  busi- 
ness, you  knew  that  the  knowledge  that  he  was  again  in  your 
power  would  be  the  best  punishment  you  could  inflict  upon 
your  enemy.     Is  that  so,  Mr.  Squeers  ?  " 

■  "  Why,  sir,"  returned  Squeers,  almost  overpowered  by  the 
determination  which  Ralph  displayed  to  make  ever}'thing  tell 
against  him,  and  by  his  stern  unyielding  manner  :  "  in  a  meas- 
ure it  was." 

"  What  does  that  mean  !  "  said  Ralph. 

"  Why,  in  a  measure,  means,"  returned  Squeers,  "  as  it 
may  be,  that  it  wasn't  all  on  my  account,  because  you  had 
some  old  grudge  to  satisfy,  too." 

"  If  I  had  not  had,"  said  Ralph,  in  no  way  abashed  by  the 
reminder,  "  do  you  think  I  should  have  helped  you  ?  " 

"  Why  no,  I  don't  suppose  you  would,"  Squeers  replied. 
"  I  only  wanted  that  point  to  be  all  square  and  straight  be- 
tween us." 

"  How  can  it  ever  be  otherwise  ?  "  retorted  Ralph.  "  Ex- 
cept that  the  account  is  against  me,  for  I  spend  money  to 
gratify  my  hatred,  and  you  pocket  it,  and  gratify  yours  at  the 
same  time.  You  are,  at  least,  as  avaricious  as  you  are  re-.^ 
vengeful.  So  am  I.  Which  is  best  off?-  You,  who  win  money 
and  revenge  at  the  same  time  and  by  the  same  process,  and 
who  are,  at  all  events,  sure  of  money,  if  not  of  revenge  ;  or  I, 
who  am  only  sure  of  spending  money  in  any  case,  and  can 
but  win  bare  revenge  at  last  ?  " 

As  Mr.  Squeers  could  only  answer  this  proposition  by 
shrugs  and  smiles,  Ralph  bade  him  be  silent,  and  thankful 
that  he  was  so  well  off  ;  and  then,  fixing  his  eyes  steadily 
upon  him,  proceeded  to  say : 

First,  that  Nicholas  had  thwarted  him  in  a  plan  he  had 
formed  for  the  disposal  in  marriage  of  a  certain  young  lady, 
and  had,  in  the  confusion  attendant  on  her  father's  sudden 
death,  secured  that  lady  himself,  and  borne  her  off  in  tri- 
umph. 

Secondly,  that  by  some  will  or  settlement — certainly  by 
some  instrument  in  writing,  which  must  contain  the  young 
lady's  name,  and  could  be,  therefore,  easily  selected  from 
others,  if  access  to  the  place  where  it  was  deposited  were 
once  secured — she  was  entitled  to  property  which,  if  the  ex- 
istence of  this  deed  ever  became  known  to  her,  would  make 
her  husband  (and  Ralph  represented   that  Nicholas  was  cer- 


,,6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

tain  to   marry  her)  a  rich   and   prosperous  man,  and  a  most 
formidable  enemy, 

Thirdly,  that  this  deed  had  been,  with  others,  stolen  from 
one  who  had  himself  obtained  or  concealed  it  fraudulently, 
and  who  feared  to  take  any  steps  for  its  recovery ;  and  that 
he  (Ralph)  knew  the  thief. 

To  all  this  Mr.  Squeers  listened,  with  greedy  ears  that  de- 
voured every  syllable,  and  with  his  one  eye  and  his  mouth 
wide  open  :  marvelling  for  what  special  reason  he  was  hon- 
ored with  so  much  of  Ralph's  confidence,  and  to  what  it  all 
tended. 

"  Now,"  said  Ralph,  leaning  forward,  and  placing  his  hand 
on  Squeers's  arm,  "  hear  the  design  which  I  have  conceived, 
and  which  I  must — I  say,  must,  if  I  can  ripen  it — cause  to  be 
carried  into  execution.  No  advantage  can  be  reaped  from 
this  deed,  whatever  it  is,  save  by  the  girl  herself,  or  her  hus- 
band ;  and  the  possession  of  this  deed  by  one  or  other  of 
them  is  indispensable  to  any  advantage  being  gained.  That, 
I  have  discovered  beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt.  I  want 
that  deed  brought  here,  that  I  may  give  the  man  who  brings 
it,  fifty  pounds  in  gold,  and  burn  it  to  ashes  before  his  face." 

Mr.  Squeers,  after  following  with  his  eye  the  action  of 
Ralph's  hand  towards  the  fire-place  as  if  he  were  at  that  mo- 
ment consuming  the  paper,  drew  a  long  breath,  and  said  : 

"  Yes  ;  but  who's  to  bring  it  ?  " 

"  Nobody,  perhaps,  for  much  is  to  be  done  before  it  can 
be  got  at,"  said  Ralph.     "  But  if  anybody — you  !  " 

Mr.  Squeers's  first  tokens  of  consternation,  and  his  flat 
relinquishment  of  the  task,  would  have  staggered  most  men, 
if  they  had  not  immediately  occasioned  an  utter  abandonment 
of  the  proposition.  On  Ralph,  they  produced  not  the  slight- 
est effect.  Resuming,  when  the  schoolmaster  had  quite  talked 
himself  out  of  breath,  as  coolly  as  if  he  had  never  been  in- 
terrupted, Ralph  proceeded  to  expatiate  on  such  features  of 
the  case  as  he  deemed  it  most  advisable  to  lay  the  greatest 
stress  on. 

These  were,  the  age,  decrepitude,  and  weakness  of  Mrs. 
Sliderskew  ;  the  great'improbability  of  her  having  any  accom- 
plice or  even  acquaintance  :  taking  into  account  her  secluded 
habits,  and  her  long  residence  in  such  a  house  as  Gride's  ;  the 
strong  reason  there  was  to  suppose  that  the  robbery  was  not 
the  result  of  a  concerted  plan  :  otherwise  she  would  have 
watched  an  opportunity  of  carrying  off  a  sum  of  money  ;  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


737 


difficulty  she  would  be  placed  in  when  she  began  to  think  on 
what  she  had  done,  and  found  herself  incumbered  with  docu- 
ments of  whose  nature  she  was  utterly  ignorant;  the  compar- 
ati\e  ease  with  which  somebody,  with  a  full  knowledge  of  her 
position,  obtaining  access  to  her,  and  working  on  her  fears,  if 
necessary,  might  worm  himself  into  her  confidence,  and  ob- 
tain, under  one  pretence  or  another,  free  possession  of  the 
deed.  To  these  were  added  such  considerations,  as  the  con- 
stant residence  of  Mr.  Squeers  at  a  long  distance  from  Lon- 
don, which  rendered  his  association  with  Mrs.  Sliderskew  a 
mere  masquerading  frolic,  in  which  nobody  was  likely  to  rec- 
ognize him,  either  at  the  time  or  afterwards  ;  the  impossibility 
of  Ralph's  undertaking  the  task  himself,  he  being  already 
known  to  her  by  sight ;  various  comments  on  the  uncommon 
tact  and  experience  of  Mr.  Squeers  :  which  would  make  his 
overreaching  one  old  woman,  a  mere  matter  of  child's  play 
and  amusement.  Ifi  addition  to  these  influences  and  persua- 
sions, Ralph  drew,  with  his  utmost  skill  and  power,  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  defeat  which  Nicholas  would  sustain,  should 
they  succeed,  in  linking  himself  to  a  beggar,  where  he  ex- 
pected to  wed  an  heiress — glanced  at  the  immeasurable  im- 
portance it  must  be  to  a  man  situated  as  Squeers,  to  preserve 
such  a  friend  as  himself — dwelt  on  a  long  train  of  benefits, 
conferred  since  their  first  acquaintance,  when  he  had  re- 
ported favorably  of  his  treatment  of  a  sickly  boy  who  had  died 
under  his  hands  (and  whose  death  was  very  convenient  to 
Ralph  and  his  clients,  but  this  he  did  not  say)  and  finally 
hinted  that  the  fifty  pounds  might  be  increased  to  seventy-five, 
or,  in  the  event  of  very  great  success,  even  to  a  hundred. 

These  arguments  at  length  concluded,  Mr.  Squeers  crossed 
his  legs,  uncrossed  them,  scratched  his  head,  rubbed  his  eye, 
examined  the  palms  of  his  hands,  bit  his  nails,  and  after 
exhibiting  many  other  signs  of  restlessness  and  indecision, 
asked  "  whether  one  hundred  pound  was  the  highest  that  Mr. 
Nickleby  could  go  ?  "  Being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he 
became  restless  again,  and,  after  some  thought  and  an  un- 
successful inquiry  "  whether  he  couldn't  go  another  fifty,"  said 
he  supposed  he  must  try  and  do  the  most  he  could  for 
a  friend  :  which  was  always  his  maxim,  and  therefore  he 
undertook  the  job. 

"  But  how  are  you  to  get  at  the  woman  ?  "  he  said  ;  "  that's 
what  it  is  as  puzzles  me." 

"  1  may  not  get  at  her  at  all,"  replied  Ralph,  "  but  I'll  Xry. 

47 


738 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


I  have  hunted  people  in  this  city,  before  now,  who  have  been 
better  hid  than  she  ;  and  I  know  quarters  in  which  a  guinea 
or  two,  carefully  spent,  will  often  solve  darker  riddles  than 
this.  Ay,  and  keep  them  close  too,  if  need  be  !  I  hear  my 
man  ringing  at  the  door.  We  may  as  well  part.  You  had 
better  not  come  to  and  fro,  but  wait  till  you  hear  from  me." 

"  Good  !  "  returned  Squeers.  "  I  say  !  If  you  shouldn't 
find  her  out,  you'll  pay  expenses  at  the  Saracen,  and  some- 
thing for  loss  of  time  ?  " 

"Well,"  said  Ralph,  testily;  "  )'es  !  You  have  nothing 
more  to  say  ?  " 

Squeers  shaking  his  head,  Ralph  accompanied  him  to  the 
street-door,  and,  audibly  wondering,  for  the  edification  of 
Newman,  why  it  was  fastened  as  if  it  were  night,  let  him  in 
and_  Squeers  out,  and  returned  to  his  own  room. 

"Now!"  he  muttered,  "come  what  come  may,  for  the 
present  I  am  firm  and  unshaken.  Let  me  but  retrieve  this 
one  small  portion  of  my  loss  and  disgrace  ;  let  me  but  defeat 
him  in  this  one  hope,  dear  to  his  heart  as  I  know  it  must  be  ; 
let  me  but  do  this ;  and  it  shall  be  the  first  link  in  such  a 
chain  which  I  will  wind  about  him,  as  never  man  forged  yet." 


CHAPTER  LVIl. 


HOW    RALPH    NICKLEBV'S    AUXILIARY    WENT    ABOUT   HIS    WORK, 
AND    HOW    HE    PROSPERED    WITH    IT. 

It  was  a  dark,  wet,  gloomy  night  in  autumn,  when  in  an 
upper  room  of  a  mean  house  situated  in  an  obscure  street  or 
rather  court  near  Lambeth,  there  sat,  all  alone,  a  one-eyed 
man  grotesquely  habited,  either  for  lack  of  better  garments 
or  for  purposes  of  disguise,  in  a  loose  great-coat  with  arms 
half  as  long  again  as  his  own,  and  a  capacity  of  breath  and 
length  which  would  have  admitted  of  his  winding  himself  in 
it,  head  and  all,  with  the  utmost  ease,  and  without  any  risk  of 
straining  the  old  and  greasy  material  of  which  it  was  com- 
posed. 

So  attired,  and  in  a  place  so  far  removed  from  his  usual 
haunts  and  occupations,  and  so  very  poor  and  wretched  in  its 
character,  perhaps  Mrs.  Squeers  herself  would  have  had  some 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


739 


difficulty  in  recognizing  her  lord  :  quickened  though  her 
natural  sagacity  doubtless  would  have  been,  by  the  affectionate 
yearnings  and  impulses  of  a  tender  wife.  But  Mrs.  Squeers's 
lord  it  was.  And  in  a  tolerably  disconsolate  mood  Mrs. 
Squeers's  lord  appeared  to  be,  as,  helping  himself  from  a  black 
bottle  which  stood  on  the  table  beside  him,  he  cast  round  the 
chamber  a  look  in  which  very  slight  regard  for  the  objects 
within  view  was  plainly  mingled  with  some  regretful  and 
impatient  recollection  of  distant  scenes  and  persons. 

There  were  no  particular  attractions,  either  in  the  room 
over  which  the  glance  of  Mr.  Squeers  so  discontentedly 
wandered,  or  in  the  narrow  street  into  which  it  might  have 
penetrated,  if  he  had  thought  fit  to  approach  the  window.  The 
attic-chamber  in  which  he  sat,  was  bare  and  mean  ;  the  bed- 
stead, and  such  few  other  articles  of  necessary  furniture  as  it 
contained,  were  of  the  commonest  description,  in  a  most 
crazy  state,  and  of  a  most  uninviting  appearance.  The  street 
was  muddy,  dirty,  and  deserted.  Having  but  one  outlet,  it 
was  traversed  by  few  save  the  inhabitants,  at  any  time  ;  and 
the  night  being  one  of  those  on  which  most  people  are  glad 
to  be  within  doors,  it  now  presented  no  other  signs  of  life 
than  the  dull  glimmering  of  poor  candles  from  the  dirty  win- 
dows, and  few  sounds  but  the  pattering  of  the  rain,  and 
occasionally  the  heavy  closing  of  some  creaking  door. 

Mr.  Squeers  continued  to  look  disconsolately  about  him, 
and  to  listen  to  these  noises  in  profound  silence,  broken  only 
by  the  rustling  of  his  large  coat,  as  he  now  and  then  moved 
his  arm  to  raise  his  glass  to  his  lips.  Mr.  Squeers  continued 
to  do  this  for  some  time,  until  the  increasing  gloom  warned 
him  to  snuff  the  candle.  Seeming  to  be  slightly  roused  by 
this  exertion,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling,  and  fixing  them 
upon  some  uncouth  and  fantastic  figures  traced  upon  it  by  the 
wet  and  damp  which  had  penetrated  through  the  roof,  broke 
into  the  following  soliloquy  : 

"  Well,  this  is  a  pretty  go,  is  this  here  !  An  uncommon 
pretty  go  !  Here  have  I  been,  a  matter  of  how  many  weeks 
— hard  upon  six — a-foUering  up  this  here  blessed  old  dowager 
petty  larcenerer," — Mr.  Squeers  delivered  himself  of  this 
epithet  with  great  difficulty  and  effort — "and  Dotheboys  Hall 
a-running  itself  regularly  to  seed  the  while  !  That's  the  worst 
of  ever  being  in  with  a  owdacious  chap  like  that  old  Nickleby. 
You  never  know  when  he's  done  with  you,  and  if  you're  in  for 
a  penny,  you're  in  for  a  pound." 


74° 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


This  remark,  perhaps,  reminded  Mr.  Squeers  that  he  was 
in  for  a  hundred  pound  at  any  rate.  His  countenance  relaxed, 
and  he  raised  his  glass  to  his  mouth  with  an  air  of  greater 
enjoyment  of  its  contents  than  he  had  before  evinced. 

"  I  never  see,"  soliloquized  Mr.  Squeers  in  continuation, 
"  I  never  see  nor  come  across  such  a  file  as  that  old  Nickleby. 
Never !  He's  out  of  everybody's  depth,  he  is.  He's  what 
you  may  call  a  rasper,  is  Nickleby.  To  see  how  sly  and  cun- 
ning he  grubbed  on,  day  after  day,  a-worming  and  plodding 
and  tracing  and  turning  and  twining  of  hisself  about,  till  he 
found  out  where  this  precious  Mrs.  Peg  was  hid,  and  cleared 
the  ground  for  me  to  work  upon.  Creeping  and  crawling 
and  gliding,  like  a  ugly  old  bright-eyed  stagnation-blooded 
adder  !  Ah  !  He'd  have  made  a  good  un  in  our  line,  but  it 
would  have  been  too  limited  for  him  ;  his  genius  would  have 
busted  all  bonds,  and  coming  over  every  obstacle,  broke  down 
all  before  it,  'till  it  erected  itself  into  a  monneyment  of — Well, 
I'll  think  of  the  rest,  and  say  it  when  conwenient." 

Making  a  halt  in  his  reflections  at  this  place,  Mr.  Squeers 
again  put  his  glass  to  his  lips,  and  drawing  a  dirty  letter  from 
his  pocket,  proceeded  to  con  over  its  contents  with  the  air  of 
a  man  who  had  read  it  very  often,  and  who  now  refreshed 
his  memory  rather  in  the  absence  of  better  amusement  than 
for  any  specific  information, 

"  The  pigs  is  well,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  "  the  cows  is  well, 
and  the  boys  is  bobbish.  Young  Sprouter  has  been  a-wink- 
ing,  has  he  ?  I'll  wink  him  when  I  get  back.  '  Cobbey  would 
persist  in  sniffing  while  he  was  a-eating  his  dinner,  and  said 
that  the  beef  was  so  strong  it  made  him.' — Very  good,  Cob- 
bey, we'll  see  if  we  can't  make  you  sniff  a  little  without  beef. 
'  Pitcher  was  took  with  another  fever,' — of  course  he  was — 
'  and  being  fetched  by  his  friends,  died  the  day  after  he  got 
home,' — of  course  he  did,  and  out  of  aggravation  ;  it's  part  of 
a  deep-laid  system.  There  an't  another  chap  in  the  school 
but  that  boy  as  would  have  died  exactly  at  the  end  of  the 
quarter  :  taking  it  out  of  me  to  the  very  last,  and  then  carry- 
ing his  spite  to  the  utmost  extremity.  '  The  juniorest  Palmer 
said  he  wished  he  was  in  Heaven.'  I  really  don't  know,  I  do 
not  know  what's  to  be  done  with  that  young  fellow  ;  he's 
always  a-wishing  something  horrid.  He  said,  once,  he  wished 
he  was  a  donkey,  because  then  he  wouldn't  have  a  father  as 
didn't  love  him  !     Pretty  wicious  that  for  a  child  of  six  !  " 

Mr.  Squeers  was  so  much  moved  by  the  contemplation  of 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  741' 

this  hardened  nature  in  one  so  young,  that  he  angrily  put  up 
the  letter,  and  sought,  in  a  new  train  of  ideas,  a  subject  of 
consolation. 

"  It's  a  long  time  to  have  been  a-lingering  in  London,"  he 
said  ;  "  and  this  is  a  precious  hole  to  come  and  live  in,  even 
if  it  has  been  only  for  a  week  or  so.  Still,  one  hundred  pound 
is  five  boys,  and  five  boys  takes  a  whole  year  to  pay  one  hun- 
dred pound,  and  there's  their  keep  to  be  substracted.  There's 
nothing  lost,  neither,  by  one's  being  here  ;  because  the  boys' 
money  comes  in  just  the  same  as  if  I  was  at  home,  and  Mrs. 
Squeers  she  keeps  them  in  order.  There'll  be  some  lost  time 
to  make  up,  of  course.  There'll  be  an  arrear  of  flogging 
as'U  have  to  be  gone  through  \  still,  a  couple  of  days  makes 
that  all  right,  and  one  don't  mind  a  little  extra  work  for  one 
hundred  pound.  It's  pretty  nigh  the  time  to  wait  upon  the 
old  woman.  From  what  she  said  last  night,  I  suspect  that  if 
I'm  to  succeed  at  all,  I  shall  succeed  to-night;  so  I'll  have 
half  a  glass  more,  to  wish  myself  success,  and  put  myself  in 
spirits.     Mrs.  Squeers,  my  dear,  your  health  !  " 

Leering  with  his  one  eye  as  if  the  lady  to  whom  he  drank, 
had  been  actually  present,  Mr.  Squeers — in  his  enthusiasm, 
no  doubt — poured  out  a  full  glass,  and  emptied  it  ;  and  as  the 
liquor  was  raw  spirits,  and  he  had  applied  himself  to  the  same 
bottle  more  than  once  already,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he 
found  himself  by  this  time  in  an  extremely  cheerful  state,  and 
quite  enough  excited  for  his  purpose. 

What  this  purpose  was,  soon  appeared.  After  a  few  turns 
about  the  room  to  steady  himself,  he  took  the  bottle  under 
his  arm  and  the  glass  in  his  hand,  and  blowing  out  the  can- 
dle as  if  he  purposed  being  gone  some  time,  stole  out  upon 
the  staircase  and  creeping  softly  to  a  door  opposite  his  own, 
tapped  gently  at  it. 

"  But  what's  the  use  of  tapping  ? "  he  said.  "  She'll  never 
hear.  I  suppose  she  isn't  doing  anything  very  particular  ; 
and  if  she  is,  it  don't  much  matter,  that  I  see." 

With  this  brief  preface.  Mr.  Squeers  applied  his  hand  to 
the  latch  of  the  door  and  thrusting  his  head  into  a  garret  far 
more  deplorable  than  that  he  had  just  left,  and  seeing  that 
there  was  nobody  there  but  an  old  woman,  who  was  bending 
over  a  wretched  fire  (for  although  the  weather  was  still  warm, 
the  evening  was  chilly),  walked  in,  and  tapped  her  on  the 
shoulder. 

"Well,  my  Slider!  "  said  Mr.  Squeers,  jocularly. 


-^2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Is  that  you  ?  "  inquired  Peg. 

"  Ah  !  It's  me,  and  me's  the  first  person  singular,  nomina- 
tive case,  agreeing  with  the  verb  'it's,'  and  governed  by 
Squeers  understood,  as  a  acorn,  a  hour  ;  but  when  the  h  is 
sounded,  the  a  only  is  to  be  used,  as  a  and,  a  art,  a  ighway," 
replied  Mr.  Squeers,  quoting  at  random  from  the  grammar. 
"  At  least,  if  it  isn't,  you  don't  know  any  better.  And  if  it  is, 
I've  done  it  accidentally." 

Delivering  this  reply  in  his  accustomed  tone  of  voice,  in 
which  of  course  it  was  inaudible  to  Peg,  Mr.  Squeers  drew  a 
stool  to  the  fire,  and  placing  himself  over  against  her,  and 
the  bottle  and  glass  on  the  floor  between  them,  roared  out 
again  very  loud, 

"  Well,  my  Slider  !  " 

"  I  hear  you,"  said  Peg,  receiving  him  very  graciously. 
"  I've  come  according  to  promise,"  roared  Squeers. 
"  So  they  used  to  say  in  that  part  of  the  country  I  come 
from,"    observed    Peg,    complacently,    "but    I    think    oil's 
better." 

"  Better  than  what  ?  "  roared  Squeers,  adding  some  rather 
strong  language  in  an  undertone. 
"No,"  said  Peg,  "of  course  not." 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  monster  as  you  are  ! "  muttered 
Squeers,  looking  as  amiable  as  he  possibly  could,  the  while ; 
for  Peg's  eye  was  upon  him,  and  she  was  chuckling  fearfully, 
as  though  in  delight  at  having  made  a  choice  repartee.  "  Do 
you  see  this  ?  This  is  a  bottle." 
"  I  see  it,"  answered  Peg. 

"  Well,  and  do  you  see  this  1  "  bawled  Squeers.  "  This  is 
a  glass  1 "     Peg  saw  that  too. 

"  See  here,  then,"  said  Squeers,  accompanying  his  remarks 
with  appropriate  action.  "  I  fill  the  glass  from  the  bottle,  and 
I  say  '  your  health.  Slider,'  and  I  empty  it ;  then  I  rinse  it 
genteelly  with  a  little  drop,  which  I'm  forced  to  throw  into 
the  fire— Hallo  !  we  shall  have  the  chimbley  alight  next — fill 
it  again,  and  hand  it  over  to  you." 
"  Your  health,"  said  Peg. 

"She  understands  that,  anyways,"  muttered  Squeers, 
watching  Mrs.  Sliderskew  as  she'dispatched  her  portion,  and 
choked  and  gasped  in  a  most  awful  manner  after  so  doing  ; 
"  now  then,  let's  have  a  talk.     How's  the  rheumatics  ?  " 

Mrs.  Sliderskew,  with  much  blinking  and  chuckling,  and 
with  looks  expressive  of  her  strong  admiration  of  Mr.  Squeers, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


743 


his  person,  manners,  and  conversation,  replied  that  the  rheu- 
matics were  better. 

"  What's  the  reason,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  deriving  fresh 
facetiousness  from  the  bottle  ;  "  what's  the  reason  of  rheu- 
matics ?  What  do  they  mean  ?  What  do  people  have  'em 
for— eh  ?  " 

Mrs.  Sliderskew  didn't  know,  but  suggested  that  it  was 
possibly  because  they  couldn't  help  it. 

"  Measles,  rheumatics,  hooping-cough,  fevers,  agers,  and 
lumbagers,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  "is  all  philosophy  together; 
that's  what  it  is.  The  heavenly  bodies  is  philosophy,  and  the 
earthly  bodies  is  philosophy.  If  there's  a  screw  loose  in  a 
heavenly  body,  that's  philosophy ;  and  if  there's  a  screw  loose 
in  a  earthly  body,  that's  philosophy  too  ;  or  it  may  be  that 
sometimes  there's  a  little  metaphysics  in  it,  but  that's  not 
often.  Philosophy's  the  chap  for  me.  If  a  parent  asks  a 
question  in  the  classical,  commercial,  or  mathematical  line, 
says  I,  gravely,  '  Why,  sir,  in  the  first  place,  are  you  a  phi- 
losopher?'— '  No,  Mr.  Squeers,'  he  says,  'I  an't.'  'Then,  sir,' 
says  I,  '  I  am  sorry  for  you,  for  I  shan't  be  able  to  explain  it.' 
Naturally,  the  parent  goes  away  and  wishes  he  was  a  phi- 
losopher, and,  equally  naturally,  thinks  I'm  one." 

Saying  this,  and  a  great  deal  more,  with  tipsy  profundity 
and  a  serio-comic  air,  and  keeping  his  eye  all  the  time  on  Mrs. 
Sliderskew,  who  was  unable  to  hear  one  word,  Mr.  Squeers 
concluded  by  helping  himself  and  passing  the  bottle.  To 
which  Peg  did  becoming  reverence. 

"That's  the  time  of  day  !  "  said  Mr.  Squeers.  "  You  look 
twenty  pound  ten  better  than  you  did." 

Again  Mrs.  Sliderskew  chuckled,  but  modesty  forbade  her 
assenting  verbally  to  the  compliment. 

"Twenty  pound  ten  better,"  repeated  Mr.  Squeers,  "than 
you  did  that  day  when  I  first  introduced  myself.  Don't  you 
know  .?  " 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Peg,  shaking  her  head,  "  but  you  frightened 
me  that  day." 

"  Did  I .'"'  said  Squeers;  "well,  it  was  rather  a  startling 
thing  for  a  stranger  to  come  and  recommend  himself  by  saying 
that  he  knew  all  about  you,  and  what  your  name  was,  and 
why  you  were  living  so  quiet  here,  and  what  you  had  boned, 
and  who  you  boned  it  from,  wasn't  it .''  " 

Peg  nodded  her  head  in  strong  assent. 

"  But  I  know  ever)'thing  that  happens  in  that  way,  you 


y44  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

see,"  continued  Squeers.  "  Nothing  takes  place,  of  that  kind, 
that  I  ain't  up  to  entirely.  I'm  a  sort  of  a  lawyer,  Slider,  of 
first-rate  standing  and  understanding.  I'm  the  intimate  friend 
and  confidential  adwiser  of  pretty  nigh  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  that  gets  themselves  into  difficulties  by  being  too 
nimble  with  their  fingers.     I'm " 

Mr.  Squeers's  catalogue  of  his  own  merits  and  accomplish- 
ments, which  was  partly  the  result  of  a  concerted  plan  be- 
tween himself  and  Ralph  Nickleby,  and  flowed,  in  part,  from 
the  black  bottle,  was  here  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Sliderskew. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  "  she  cried,  folding  her  arms  and  wagging 
her  head  ;  "  and  so  he  wasn't  married  after  all,  wasn't  he  ? 
Not  married  after  all  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Squeers,   "  that  he  wasn't  !  " 

"  And  a  young  lover  come  and  carried  off  the  bride,  eh  t  " 
said  Peg. 

"  From  under  his  very  nose," -replied  Squeers  ;  "  and  I'm 
told  the  young  chap  cut  up  rough  besides,  and  broke  the 
winders,  and  forced  him  to  swaller  his  wedding  favor. 
Which  nearly  choked  him." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it  again,"  cried  Peg,  with  a  malicious 
relisK~~of-her  old -master's-  defeat,  which  madg"  her  natural 
hideousness  something  quite  fearful ;'  "  let*s  hear  it  all  again, 
beginning  at  the  beginning  now,  as  if  you'd  never  told  me. 
Let's  have  it  every  word — now — now — beginning  at  the  very 
first,  you  know,  when  he  went  to  the  house  that  morning  ! " 
"^^  Mr.  Squeers,  plying  Mrs.  Sliderskew  freely  with  the  liquor, 
and  sustaining  himself  under  the  exertion  of  speaking  so  loud 
by  frequent  applications  to  it  himself,  complied  with  this  re- 
quest by  describing  the  discomfiture  of  Arthur  Gride,  with 
such  improvements  on  the  truth  as  happened  to  occur  to  him, 
and  the  ingenious  invention  and  application  of  which  had 
been  very  instrumental  in  recommending  him  to  her  notice  in 
the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance.  Mrs.  Sliderskew  was  in 
an  ecstasy  of  delight,  rolling  her  Ijead  about,  drawing  up  her 
skinny  shoulders,  and  wrinkling  her  cadaverous  face  into  so 
many  and  such  complicated  forms  of  ugliness,  as  awakened 
the  unbounded  astonishment  and  disgust  even  of  Mr.  Squeers. 

"  He's  a  treacherous  old  goat,"  said  Peg,  "and  cozened 
me  with  cunning  tricks  and  lying  promises  ;  but  never  mind. 
I'm  even  with  him,     I'm  e\'en  with  him." 

"More  than  even.  Slider,"  returned  Squeers;  "you'd 
have  been  even  with  him,  if  he'd  got  married  ;  but  with  the 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


745 


disappointment  besides,  you're  a  long  way  a-head.  Out  of 
sight,  Slider,  quite  out  of  sight.  And  that  reminds  me,"  he 
added,  handing  her  the  glass,  ''  if  you  want  me  to  give  you 
my  opinion  of  them  deeds,  and  tell  you  what  you'd  better 
keep  and  what  you'd  better  burn,  why,  now's  your  time, 
Slider." 

"  There  ain't  no  hurry  for  that,"  said  Peg,  with  several 
knowing  looks  and  winks. 

"  Oh  !  very  well !  "  observed  Squeers,  "  it  don't  matter  to 
me.  You  asked  me,  you  know.  I  shouldn't  charge  you 
nothing,  being  a  friend.  You're  the  best  judge  of  course. 
But  you're  a  bold  woman.  Slider." 

"  How  do  you  mean  bold  ?  "  said  Peg. 

"Why,  I  only  mean  that  if  it  was  me,  I  wouldn't  keep 
papers  as  might  hang  me,  littering  about  when  they  might  be 
turned  into  money — them  as  wasn't  useful  made  away  with, 
and  them  as  was,  laid  by  somewheres,  safe  ;  that's  all,"  re- 
turned Squeers  ;  "  but  everybody's  the  best  judge  of  their  own 
affairs.     All  I  say  is.  Slider,  /wouldn't  do  it." 

"  Come,"  said  Peg,  "  then  you  shall  see  'em." 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  'em,"  replied  Squeers,  affecting  to 
be  out  of  humor,  "  don't  talk  as  if  it  was  a  treat.  Show  'em 
to  somebody  else,  and  take  their  advice."  ^ 

Mr.  Squeers   would,  very  likely,  have  carried  on  the  farce'; 
of  being  offended,  a   little  longer,  if   Mrs.   Sliderskew  in  her', 
anxiety  to  restore  herself  to  her  former  high  position  in  his  / 
good  graces  had  not  become  so  extremely  affectionate  that  he 
stood  at  some  risk  of  being  smothered  by  her  caresses.     Re- 
pressing, with  as  good  a  grace  as  possible,  these  little  famili- 
arities— for  which,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  the  black  bottle  I 
was  at  least  as  much  to  blame  as  any  constitutional  infirmity ' 
on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Sliderskew — he  protested  that  he  had  only 
been  joking,   and,   in  proof  of  his  unimpaired  good  humor, 
that  he  was  ready  to  examine  the  deeds  at  once,  if  by  so  doing 
he  could  afford  any  satisfaction  or  relief  of  mind  to  his  fair 
friend. 

"  And  now  you're  up,  my  Slider,"  bawled  Squeers,  as  she 
rose  to  fetch  them,  "  bolt  the  door." 

Peg  trotted  to  the  door,  and  after  fumbling  at  the  bolt, 
crept  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  from  beneath  the 
coals  which  filled  the  bottom  of  the  cupboard,  drew  forth  a 
small  deal  box.  Having  placed  this  on  the  floor  at  Squecrs's 
feet,  she  brought,  from  under  the  pillow  of  her  bed,  a  small 


746  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

key,  with  which  she  signed  to  that  gentleman  to  open  it.  Mr. 
Squeers,  who  had  eagerly  followed  her  every  motion,  lost  no 
time  in  obeying  this  hint :  and,  throwing  back  the  lid,  gazed 
with  rapture  on  the  documents  within. 

"  Now  you  see,"  said  Peg,  kneeling  down  on  the  floor 
beside  him,  and  staying  his  impatient  hand  ;  "  what's  of  no 
use,  we'll  burn  ;  what  we  can  get  any  money  by,  we'll  keep  ; 
and  if  there's  any  we  could  get  him  into  trouble  by,  and  fret 
and  waste  away  his  heart  to  shreds  with,  those  we'll  take 
particular  care  of ;  for  that's  what  I  want  to  do,  and  what  I 
hoped  to  do  when  I  left  him." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Squeers,  "  that  you  didn't  bear  him  any 
particular  good-will.  But,  I  say  1  Why  didn't  you  take  some 
money  besides }  " 

"  Some  what  ?"  asked  Peg. 

"  Some  money,"  roared  Squeers.  "  I  do  believe  the 
woman  hears  me,  and  wants  to  make  me  break  a  wessel,  so 
that  she  may  have  the  pleasure  of  nursing  me.  Some  money, 
Slider,  money  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  a  man  you  are  to  ask  !  "  cried  Peg,  with  some 
contempt.  "  If  I  had  taken  money  from  Arthur  Gride,  he'd 
have  scoured  the  whole  earth  to  find  me — ay,  and  he'd  have 
smelt  it  out,  and  raked  it  up,  somehow,  if  I  had  buried  it  at 
the  bottom  of  the  deepest  well  in  England.  No,  no  !  I  knew 
better  than  that.  I  took  what  I  thought  his  secrets  were  hid 
in.  Them  he  couldn't  afford  to  make  public,  let  'em  be  worth 
ever  so  much  money.  He's  an  old  dog  ;  a  sly  old  cunning 
thankless  dog !  He  first  starved,  and  then  tricked  me  ;  and 
if  I  could,  I'd  kill  him." 

"  All  right,  and  very  laudable,"  said  Squeers.  "  But,  first 
and  foremost.  Slider,  burn  the  box.  You  should  never  keep 
things  as  may  lead  to  discovery.  Always  mind  that.  So  while 
you  pull  it  to  pieces  (which  you  can  easily  do,  for  it's  very  old 
and  rickety)  and  burn  it  in  litde  bits,  I'll  look  over  the  papers 
and  tell  you  what  they  are." 

Peg,  expressing  her  acquiescence  in  this  arrangement,  Mr. 
Squeers  turned  the  box  bottom  upward,  and  tumbling  the  con- 
tents upon  the  floor,  handed  it  to  her  ;  the  destruction  of  the 
box  being  an  extemporary  device  for  engaging  her  attention 
in  case  it  should  prove  desirable  to  distract  it  from  his  own 
proceedings. 

"  There  !  "  said  Squeers  ;  "  you  poke  the  pieces  between 
the  bars,  and  make  up  a  good  fire,  and  I'll  read  the  while.     Let 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  7  47 

me  see,  let  me  see."  And  taking  the  candle  down  beside  him, 
Mr.  Squeers,  with  great  eagerness  and  a  cunning  grin  over- 
spreading his  face,  entered  upon  his  task  of  examination. 

If  the  old  woman  had  not  been  very  deaf,  she  must  have 
heard,  when  she  last  went  to  the  door,  the  breathing  of  two  per- 
sons close  behind  it :  and  if  those  two  persons  had  been  unac- 
quainted with  her  iniirmity  they  must  probably  have  chosen  that 
moment  either  for  presenting  themselves  or  taking  to  flight. 
But,  knowing  with  whom  they  had  to  deal,  they  remained  quite 
still,  and  now  not  only  appeared  unobserved  at  the  door — 
which  was  not  bolted,  for  the  bolt  had  no  hasp — but  warily, 
and  with  noiseless  footsteps,  advanced  into  the  room. 

As  they  stole  farther  and  farther  in  by  slight  and  scarcely 
perceptible  degrees,  and  with  such  caution  that  they  scarcely 
seemed  to  breathe,  the  old  hag  and  Squeers,  little  dreaming 
of  any  such  invasion,  and  utterly  unconscious  of  there  being 
any  soul  near  but  themselves,  were  busily  occupied  with  their 
tasks.     The  old  woman  with  her  wrinkled  face  close  to  the  | 
bars  of  the  stove,  puffing  at  the  dull  embers  which  had  not  yet  | 
caught   the  wood  ;    Squeers,   stooping  down  to    the   candle,  \ 
which  brought  out  the  full  ugliness  of  his  face,  as  the  light  of  \ 
the  fire  did  that  of   his  companion  ;  both  intently  engaged, 
and  wearing  faces  of   exultation   which   contrasted  strongly 
with  the  anxious  looks  of  those  behind,  who  took  advantage 
of  the  slightest  sound  to  cover  their  advance,  and,  almost  be- 
fore  they  had  moved   an  inch   and   all   was   silent,   stopped 
again.     This,  with  the  large  bare  room,  damp  walls,  and  flick- 
ering doubtful  light,  combined  to  form  a  scene  which  the  most 
careless  and  indifferent  spectator  (could  any  such  have  been 
present)  could  scarcely  have  failed  to  derive  some  interest 
from,  and  would  not  readily  have  forgotten. 

Of  the  stealthy  comers,  Frank  Cheeryble  was  one,  and 
Newman  Noggs  the  other.  Newman  had  caught  up  by 
the  rusty  nozzle,  an  old  pair  of  bellows,  which  were  just  under- 
going a  flourish  in  the  air  preparator)'  to  a  descent  upon  the 
head"  of  Mr.  Squeers,  when  Frank  with  an  earnest  gesture 
stayed  his  arm,  and,  taking  another  step  in  advance,  came  so 
close  behind  the  schoolmaster  that,  by  leaning  slightly  forward, 
he  could  plainly  distinguish  the  writing  which  he  held  up  to 
his  eye. 

Mr.  Squeers,  not  being  remarkably  erudite,  appeared  to  be 
considerably  puzzled  by  this  first  prize,  which  was  in  an  en- 
grossing hand,  and  not  very  legible  except  to  a  practised  eye. 


748 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


Having  tried  it  by  reading  from  left  to  right,  and  from  right 
to  left,  and  finding  it  equally  clear  both  ways,  he  turned  it  up- 
side down  with  no  better  success. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  chuckled  Peg,  who,  on  her  knees  before 
the  fire,  was  feeding  it  with  fragments  of  the  box,  and  grin- 
ning in  most  devilish  exultation.  "  What's  that  writing  about, 
eh  ? " 

"Nothing  particular,"  replied  Squeers,  tossing  it  towards 
her.  "  It's  only  an  old  lease,  as  well  as  I  can  make  out.  Throw 
it  in  the  fire." 

Mrs.  Sliderskew  complied,  and  inquired  what  the  next  one 
was. 

"This,"  said  Squeers,  "is  a  bundle  of  overdue  acceptances 
and  renewed  bills  of  six  or  eight  young  gentleman  ;  but  they're 
all  M.  P.'s,  so  it's  of  no  use  to  anybody.     Throw  it  in  the  fire." 

Peg  did  as  she  was  bidden,  and  waited  for  the  next. 

"  This,"  said  Squeers,  "  seems  to  be  some  deed  of  sale  of 
the  right  of  presentation  to  the  rectory  of  Purechurch,  in  the 
valley  of  Cashup.  Take  care  of  that.  Slider,  literally  for  God's 
sake.     It'll  fetch  its  price  at  the  Auction  Mart." 

"What's  the  next  ?  "  inquired  Peg. 

"Why,  this,"  said  Squeers,  "seems,  from  the  two  letters 
that's  with  it,  to  be  a  bond  from  a  curate  down  in  the  country, 
to  pay  half-a-year's  wages  of  forty  pound  for  borrowing  twenty. 
Take  care  of  that ;  for  if  he  don"t  pay  it,  his  bishop  will  very 
soon  be  down  upon  him.  We  know  what  the  camel  and  the 
needle's  eye  means ;  no  man  as  can't  live  upon  his  income, 
whatever  it  is,  must  expect  to  go  to  heaven  at  any  price.  It's 
very  odd  ;  I  don't  see  anything  like  it  yet." 

"  What's  the  matter  ? ''  said  Peg. 

"Nothing,"  replied  Squeers,  "only  I'm  looking  for " 

Newman  raised  the  bellows  again.  Once  again,  Frank,  by 
a  rapid  motion  of  his  arm  unaccompanied  with  any  noise, 
checked  him  in  his  purpose. 

"  Here  you  are,"  said  Squeers,  "  bonds — take  care  of  them. 
Warrant  of  attorney — take  care  of  that.  Two  cognovits — take 
care  of  them.  Lease  and  release — burn  that.  Ah  !  '  Mad- 
eline Bray — come  of  age  or  marry — the  said  Madeline  ' — here, 
burn  that !''' 

Eagerly  throwing  towards  the  old  woman  a  parchment  that 
he  caught  up  for  the  purpose,  Squeers,  as  she  turned  her  head, 
thrust  into  the  breast  of  his  large  coat,  the  deed  in  which  these 
words  had  caught  his  eye,  and  burst  into  a  shout  of  triumph. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


749 


"  I've  got  it  !  "  said  Squeers.  "  I've  got  it !  Hurrah  !  The 
plan  was  a  good  one  though  the  chance  was  desperate,  and 
the  day's  our  own  at  last !  " 

Peg  demanded  what  he  laughed  at,  but  no  answer  was  re- 
turned. Newman's  arm  could  no  longer  be  restrained.  The 
bellows  descended  heavily,  and  with  unerring  aim  on  the  very 
centre  of  Mr.  Squeers's  head,  felled  him  to  the  floor,  and 
stretched  him  on  it  fiat  and  senseless. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

TN    WHICH    ONE    SCENE    OF    THIS    HISTORY    IS    CLOSED. 

Dividing  the  distance  into  two  days'  journey,  in  order  that 
his  charge  might  sustain  the  less  exhaustion  and  fatigue  from 
travelling  so  far,  Nicholas,  at  the  end  of  the  second  day  from 
their  leaving  home,  found  himself  within  a  very  few  miles  of 
the  spot  where  the  happiest  years  of  his  life  had  been  passed, 
and  which,  while  it  filled  his  mind  with  pleasant  and  peaceful 
thoughts,  brought  back  many  painful  and  vivid  recollections 
of  the  circumstances  in  which  he  and  his  had  wandered  forth 
from  their  old  home,  cast  upon  the  rough  world  and  the  mercy 
of  strangers. 

It  needed  no  such  reflections  as  those  which  the  memory 
of  old  days,  and  wanderings  among  scenes  where  our  childhood 
has  been  passed,  usually  awaken  in  the  most  insensible  minds, 
to  soften  the  heart  of  Nicholas  and  render  him  more  than 
usually  mindful  of  his  drooping  friend.  By  night  and  day,  at 
all  times  and  seasons  :  always  watchful,  attentive,  and  solicit- 
ous, and  never  varying  in  the  discharge  of  his  self-imposed 
duty  to  one  so  friendless  and  helpless  as  he  whose  sands  of 
life  were  now  fast  running  out  and  dwindling  rapidly  away : 
he  was  ever  at  his  side.  He  never  left  him.  To  encourage 
and  animate  him,  administer  to  his  wants,  support  and  cheer 
him  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  was  now  his  constant  and  un- 
ceasing occupation. 

They  procured  a  humble  lodging  in  a  small  farm-house, 
surrounded  by  meadows  where  Nicholas  had  often  re\elled 
when  a  child  with  a  troop  of  merry  school-fellows  ;  and  here 
they  took  up  their  rest. 


y ^ o  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

At  first,  Smike  was  strong  enough  to  walk  about,  for  short 
distances  at  a  time,  with  no  other  support  or  aid  than  that 
which  Nicholas  could  afford  him.  At  this  time,  nothing  ap- 
peared to  interest  him  so  much  as  visiting  those  places  which 
had  been  most  familiar  to  his  friend  in  bygone  clays.  Yield- 
ing to  this  fancy,  and  pleased  to  find  that  its  indulgence  be- 
guiled the  sick  boy  of  many  tedious  hours,  and  never  failed  to 
afford  him  matter  for  thought  and  conversation  afterwards, 
Nicholas  made  such  spots  the  scenes  of  their  daily  rambles : 
driving  him  from  place  to  place  in  a  little  pony-chair,  and 
supporting  him  on  his  arm  while  they  walked  slowly  among 
these  old  haunts,  or  lingered  in  the  sunlight  to  take  long 
parting  looks  of  those  which  were  most  quiet  and  beautiful. 

It  was  on  such  occasions  as  these,  that  Nicholas,  yielding 
almost  unconsciously  to  the  interest  of  old  associations,  would 
point  out  some  tree  that  he  had  climbed  a  hundred  times,  to 
peep  at  the  young  birds  in  their  nest ;  and  the  branch  from 
which  he  used  to  shout  to  little  Kate,  who  stood  below  terri- 
fied at  the  height  he  had  gained,  and  yet  urging  him  higher 
still  by  the  intensity  of  her  admiration.  There  was  the  old 
house  too,  which  they  would  pass  every  day,  looking  up  at  the 
tiny  window  through  which  the  sun  used  to  stream  in  and 
wake  him  on  the  summer  mornings — they  were  all  sumrner 
mornings  then — and,  climbing  up  the  garden-wall  and  looking 
over,  Nicholas  could  see  the  very  rose-bush  which  had  come, 
a  present  to  Kate,  from  some  little  lover,  and  she  had  planted 
with  her  own  hands.  There  were  the  hedge-rows  where  the 
brother  and  sister  had  often  gathered  wild  flowers  together, 
and  the  green  fields  and  shady  paths  where  they  had  often 
strayed.  "There  was  not  a  lane,  or  brook,  or  copse,  or  cottage 
near,  with  which  some  childish  event  was  not  entwined,  and 
back  it  came  upon  the  mind — as  events  of  childhood  do — noth- 
ing in  itself :  perhaps  a  word,  a  laugh,  a  look,  some  slight 
distress,  a  passing  thought  or  fear  :  and  yet  more  strongly  and 
distinctly  marked,  and  better  remembered,  than  the  hardest 
trials  or  severest  sorrows  of  a  year  ago. 

"^  One  of  these  expeditions  led  them  through  the  churchyard 
irhere  was  his  father's  grave.  "  Even  here,"  said  Nicholas, 
softly,  "  we  used  to  loiter  before  we  knew  what  death  was, 
md  when  we  little  thought  whose  ashes  would  rest  beneath  ; 
md,  wondering  at  the  silence,  sit  down  to  rest  and  speak  be- 
1^  our  breath.  Once.  Kate  was  lost,  and  after  an  hour  of 
fruitless  search,  they  found  her  fast  asleep  under  that  tree 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


751 


which  shades  my  father's  grave.  He  was  very  fond  of  her, 
and  said  when  he  took  her  up  in  his  arms,  still  sleeping,  that 
whenever  he  died  he  would  wish  to  be  buried  where  his  dear 
little  child  had  laid  her  head.  You  see  his  wish  was  not  for- 
gotten." 

Nothing  more  passed,  at  the  time  ;  but  that  night,  as 
Nicholas  sat  beside  his  bed,  Smike  started  from  what  had 
seemed  to  be  a  slumber,  and  laying  his  hand  in  his,  prayed, 
as  the  tears  coursed  down  his  face,  that  he  would  make  him 
one  solemn  promise. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  said  Nicholas,  kindly.  "  If  I  can  re- 
deem it,  or  hope  to  do  so,  you  know  I  will." 

"I  am  sure  you  will,"  was  the  reply.  "  Promise  me  that 
when  I  die,  I  shall  be  buried  near — as  near  as  they  can  make 
my  grave — to  the  tree  we  saw  to-day." 

Nicholas  gave  the  promise  ;  he  had  few  words  to  give  it 
in,  but  they  were  solemn  and  earnest.  His  poor  friend  kept 
his  hand  in  his,  and  turned  as  if  to  sleep.  But  there  were  sti- 
fled sobs  ;  and  the  hand  was  pressed  more  than  once,  or  twice, 
or  thrice,  before  he  sank  to  rest  and  slowly  loosed  his  hold. 

In  a  fortnight's  time,  he  became  too  ill  to' move  about. 
Once  or  twice,  Nicholas  drove  him  out,  propped  up  with 
pillows  ;  but  the  motion  of  the  chaise  was  painful  to  him,  and 
brought  on  fits  of  fainting,  which,  in  his  weakened  state,  were 
dangerous.  There  was  an  old  couch  in  the  house,  which  was 
his  favorite  resting-place  by  day ;  when  the  sun  shone,  and 
the  weather  was  warm,  Nicholas  had  this  wheeled  into  a  little 
orchard  which  was  close  at  hand,  and  his  charge  being  well 
wrapped  up  and  carried  out  to  it,  they  used  to  sit  there  some- 
times for  hours  together. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that  a  circumstance  took 
place,  which  Nicholas,  at  the  time,  thoroughly  believed  to  be 
the  mere  delusion  of  an  imagination  affected  by  disease  ;  but 
which  he  had,  afterwards,  too  good  reason  to  know  was  of 
real  and  actual  occurrence. 

He  had  brought  Smike  out  in  his  arms — poor  fellow !  a 
child  might  have  carried  him  then — to  see  the  sunset,  and, 
having  arranged  his  couch,  had  taken  his  seat  beside  it.  He 
had  been  watching  the  whole  of  the  night  before,  and  being 
greatly  fatigued  both  in  mind  and  body,  gradually  fell  asleep. 
He  could  not  have  closed  his  eyes  five  minutes,  when 
he  was  awakened  by  a  scream,  and  starting  up  in  that 
kind  of  terror  which  affects  a  person  suddenly  roused,  saw,  to 


J ^2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

his  great  astonishment,  that  his  charge  had  struggled  into  a 
sitting  posture,  and  with  eyes  ahnost  starting  from  their 
sockets,  cold  dew  standing  on  his  forehead,  and  in  a  fit  of 
trembling  which  quite  convulsed  his  frame,  was  calling  to  him 
for  help. 

"  Good  Heaven,  what  is  this  !  "  said  Nicholas,  bending 
over  him.     "  Be  calm  ;  you  have  been  dreaming." 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  cried  Smike  clinging  to  him.  "  Hold  me 
tight.     Don't  let  me  go.     There,  there  !     Behind  the  tree  !  " 

Nicholas  followed  his  eyes,  which  were  directed  to  some 
distance  behind  the  chair  from  which  he  himself  had  just 
risen.     But  there  was  nothing  there. 

"  This  is  nothing  but  your  fancy,"  he  said,  as  he  strove  to 
compose  him  ;  "nothing  else  indeed." 

"  I  know  better.  I  saw  as  plain  as  I  see  now,"  was  the 
answer.  "  Oh !  say  you'll  keep  me  with  you.  Swear  you 
won't  leave  me,  for  an  instant !  " 

"  Do  I  ever  leave  you  .'  "  returned  Nicholas.  "  Lie  down 
again — there  !  You  see  I'm  here.  Now,  tell  me  ;  what  was 
it.?" 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  Smike,  in  a  low  voice,  and 
glancing  fearfully  round,  "  do  you  remember  my  telling  you 
of  the  man  who  first  took  me  to  the  school  ? " 

"  Yes,  surely." 

"  I  raised  my  eyes,  just  now,  towards  that  tree — that  one 
with  the  thick  trunk — and  there,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  me,  he 
stood !  " 

"Only  reflect  for  one  moment,"  said  Nicholas;  "grant- 
ing, for  an  instant,  that  it's  likely  he  is  alive  and  wandering 
about  a  lonely  place  like  this,  so  far  removed  from  the  public 
road,  do  you  think  that  at  this  distance  of  time  you  could 
possibly  know  that  man  again  ?  " 

"Anywhere — in  any  dress,"  returned  Smike;  "but,  just 
now,  he  stood  leaning  upon  his  stick  and  looking  at  me,  ex- 
actly as  I  told  you  I  remembered  him.  He  was  dusty  with 
walking,  and  poorly  dressed — I  think  his  clothes  were  ragged 
— but  directly  I  saw  him,  the  wet  night,  his  face  when  he  left 
me,  the  parlor  I  was  left  in,  the  people  who  were  there,  all 
seemed  to  come  back  together.  When  he  knew  1  saw  him, 
he  looked  frightened  ;  for  he  started,  and  shrank  away.  I 
have  thought  of  him  by  day,  and  dreamt  of  him  by  night.  He 
looked  in  my  sleep,  when  I  was  quite  a  little  child,  and  has 
looked  in  my  sleep  ever  since,  as  he  did  just  now." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


753 


Nicliolas  endeavored,  by  every  persuasion  and  argument 
he  could  think  of,  to  convince  the  territied  creature  that  his 
imagination  had  deceived  him,  and  that  this  close  resemblance 
between  the  creation  of  his  dreams  and  the  man  he  supposed 
he  had  seen  was  but  a  proof  of  it  ;  but  all  in  vain.  When  he 
could  persuade  him  to  remain,  for  a  few  moments,  in  the  care 
of  the  people  to  whom  the  house  belonged,  he  instituted  a 
strict  inquiry  whether  any  stranger  had  been  seen,  and 
searched  himself  behind  the  tree,  and  through  the  orchard, 
and  upon  the  land  immediately  adjoining,  and  in  every  place 
near,  where  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  lie  concealed  \  but 
all  in  vain.  Satisfied  that  he  was  right  in  his  original  conjec- 
ture, he  applied  himself  to  calming  the  fears  of  Smike,  which, 
after  some  time,  he  partially  succeeded  in  doing,  though  not 
in  removing  the  impression  upon  his  mind ;  for  he  still  de- 
clared, again  and  again,  in  the  most  solemn  and  fervid  man- 
ner, that  he  had  positively  seen  what  he  had  described,  and 
that  nothing  could  ever  remove  his  conviction  of  its  reality. 

And  now,  Nicholas  began  to  see  that  hope  was  gone,  and 
that,  upon  the  partner  of  his  poverty,  and  the  sharer  of  his 
better  fortune,  the  world  was  closing  fast.  There  was  little 
pain,  little  uneasiness,  but  there  was  no  rallying,  no  effort,  no 
struggle  for  life.  He  was  worn  and  wasted  to  the  last  degree  ; 
his  voice  had  sunk  so  low,  that  he  could  scarce  be  heard  to 
speak  ;  Nature  was  thoroughly  exhausted,  and  he  had  lain 
him  down  to  die. 

On  a  fine  mild  autumn  day,  when  all  was  tranquil  and  at 
peace  •  when  the  soft  sweet  air  crept  in  at  the  open  window 
of  the  quiet  room,  and  not  a  sound  was  heard  but  the  gentle 
rustling  of  the  leaves  ;  Nicholas  sat  in  his  old  place  by  the 
bedside,  and  knew  that  the  time  was  nearly  come.  So  very 
still  it  was,  that  every  now  and  then,  he  bent  down  his  ear  to 
listen  for  the  breathing  of  him  who  lay  asleep,  as  if  to  assure 
himself  that  life  was  still  there,  and  that  he  had  not  fallen 
into  that  deep  slumber  from  which  on  earth  there  is  no 
waking. 

While  he  was  thus  employed,  the  closed  eyes  opened,  and 
on  the  pale  face  there  came  a  placid  smile. 

"  That's  well  !  "  said  Nicholas.  "  The  sleep  has  done  you 
good." 

"  I  have  had  such  pleasant  dreams "  was  the  answer. 
"  Such  pleasant,  happy  dreams  !  " 

"  Of  what  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

48 


754 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


The  dying  boy  turned  towards  him,  and,  putting  his  arm 
about  his  neck,  made  answer,  "  I  shall  soon  be  there  !  " 

After  a  short  silence  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  to  die,"  he  said,  "  I  am  quite  contented. 
I  almost  think  that  if  I  could  rise  from  this  bed  quite  well,  I 
would  not  wish  to  do  so,  now.  You  have  so  often  told  me 
we  shall  meet  again — so  very  often  lately,  and  now  I  feel  the 
truth  of  that,  so  strongly — that  I  can  even  bear  to  part  from 
you." 

The  trembling  voice  and  tearful  eye,  and  the  closer  grasp 
of  the  arm  which  accompanied  these  latter  words,  showed 
how  they  filled  the  speaker's  heart ;  nor  were  there  wanting, 
indications  of  how  deeply  they  had  touched  the  heart  of  him 
to  whom  they  were  addressed. 

"  You  say,  well,"  returned  Nicholas  at  length,  "  and  com- 
fort me  ver}^-  much,  dear  fellow.  Let  me  hear  you  say  you  are 
happy,  if  you  can." 

"  I  must  tell  you  something  first.  I  should  not  have  a 
secret  from  you.  You  will  not  blame  me,  at  a  time  like  this, 
I  know." 

"  /blame  you  !  "  exclaimed  Nicholas. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  not.  You  asked  me  why  I  was  so 
changed,  and — and  sat  so  much  alone.  Shall  I  tell  you 
why  .?  " 

"Not  if  it  pains  you,"  said  Nicholas.  "  I  only  asked  that 
I  might  make  you  happier,  if  I  could." 

"  I  know.  I  felt  that,  at  the  time."  He  drew  his  friend 
closer  to  him.  "  You  will  forgive  me  ;  I  could  not  help  it ; 
but  though  I  would  have  died  to  make  her  happy,  it  broke 
my  heart  to  see — I  know  he  loves  her  dearly — Oh  !  who 
could  find  that  out,  so  soon  as  I  !  " 

The  words  which  followed  were  feebly  and  faintly  uttered, 
and  broken  by  long  pauses  ;  but,  from  them,  Nicholas  learnt 
for  the  first  time,  that  the  dying  boy,  with  all  the  ardor  of  a 
nature  concentrated  on  one  absorbing,  hopeless,  secret  passion, 
loved  his  sister  Kate. 

He  had  procured  a  lock  of  her  hair,  which  hung  at  his 
breast,  folded  in  one  or  two  slight  ribands  she  had  worn.  He 
prayed  that,  when  he  was  dead,  Nicholas  would  take  it  off,  so 
that  no  eyes  but  his  might  see  it,  and  that  when  he  was  laid 
in  his  coffin  and  about  to  be  placed  in  the  earth,  he  would 
hang  it  round  his  neck  again,  that  it  might  rest  with  him  in 
the  grave. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  755 

Upon  his  knees  Nicholas  gave  him  this  pledge,  and  prom- 
ised again  that  he  siiould  rest  in  the  spot  he  had  pointed 
out.     They  embraced,  and  kissed  each  other  on  the  cheek. 

"  Now,"  he  murmured,  "  I  am  happy." 

He  fell  into  a  slight  slumber,  and  waking  smiled  as  be- 
fore ;  then,  spoke  of  beautiful  gardens,  which  he  said  stretched 
out  before  him,  and  were  filled  with  figures  of  men,  women, 
and  many  children,  all  with  light  upon  their  faces  ,  then  whis- 
pered that  it  was  Eden — and  so  died. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 


THE    PLOTS     BEGIN    TO     FAIL,    AND    DOUBTS     AND     DANGERS     TO 
DISTURB    THE    PLOTTER. 

Ralph  sat  alone,  in  the  solitary  room  where  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  take  his  meals,  and  to  sit  of  nights  when  no  profit- 
able occupation  called  him  abroad.  Before  him  was  an 
untasted  breakfast,  and  near  to  where  his  fingers  beat  rest- 
lessly upon  the  table,  lay  his  watch.  It  was  long  past  the 
time  at  which,  for  many  years,  he  had  put  it  in  his  pocket  and 
gone  with  measured  steps  down  the  stairs  to  the  business  of 
the  day,  but  he  took  as  little  heed  of  its  monotonous  warning, 
as  of  the  meat  and  drink  before  him,  and  remained  with  his 
head  resting  on  one  hand,  and  his  eyes  fixed  moodily  on  the 
ground. 

This  departure  from  his  regular  and  constant  habit,  in  one 
so  regular  and  unvarying  in  all  that  appertained  to  the  daily 
pursuit  of  riches,  would  almost  of  itself  have  told  that  the 
usurer  was  not  well.  That  he  labored  under  some  mental  or 
bodily  indisposition,  and  that  it  was  one  of  no  slight  kind  so 
to  afifect  a  man  like  him,  was  sufficiently  shown  by  his  haggard 
face,  jaded  air,  and  hollow  languid  eyes  :  which  he  raised  at 
last  w'ith  a  start  and  a  hasty  glance  around  him,  as  one  who 
suddenly  awakes  from  sleep,  and  cannot  immediately  recog- 
nize the  place  in  which  he  finds  himself. 

"What  is  this,"  he  said,  "  that  hangs  over  me,  and  I  can- 
not shake  off  ?  I  have  never  pampered  myself,  and  should 
not  be  ill.  I  have  never  moped,  and  pined,  and  yielded  to 
fancies  ;  but  what  can  a  man  do  without  rest  ?  " 


756 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY 


He  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  forehead. 

*'  Night  after  night  comes  and  goes,  and  I  have  no  rest. 
If  I  sleep,  what  rest  is  that  which  is  disturbed  by  constant 
dreams  of  the  same  detested  faces  crowding  round  me — of  the 
same  detested  people,  in  every  variety  of  action,  mingling  with 
all  I  say  and  do,  and  always  to  my  defeat  ?  Waking,  what 
rest  have  I,  constantly  haunted  by  this  heavy  shadow  of — I 
know  not  what — which  is  its  worst  character  !  I  must  have 
rest.      One   night's  unbroken  rest,   and  I   should  be  a  man 


agaui. 


Pushing  the  table  from  him  while  he  spoke,  as  though  he 
loathed  the  sight  of  food,  he  encountered  the  watch :  the 
hands  of  which,  were  almost  upon  noon. 

"  This  is  strange  !  "  he  said,  "  noon,  and  Noggs  not  here  ! 
what  drunken  brawl  keeps  him  away  1  1  would  give  some- 
thing now — something  in  money  even  after  that  dreadful  loss 
— ifhe  had  stabbed  a  man  in  a  tavern  scuffle,  or  broken  into 
a  house,  or  picked  a  pocket,  or  done  anything  that  would  send 
him  abroad  with  an  iron  ring  upon  his  leg,  and  rid  me  of  him. 
Better  still,  if  I  could  throw  temptation  in  his  way,  and  lure 
him  on  to  rob  me.  He  should  be  welcome  to  what  he  took, 
so  I  brought  the  law  upon  him  ;  for  he  is  a  traitor.  I  swear  ! 
How,  or  when,  or  where  I  don't  know,  though  I  suspect." 

After  waiting  for  another  half-hour,  he  despatched  the 
woman  who  kept  his  house  to  Newman's  lodging,  to  inquire  if 
he  were  ill,  and  why  he  had  not  come  or  sent.  She  brought 
back  answer  that  he  had  not  been  home  all  night,  and  that 
no  one  could  tell  her  anything  about  him. 

"  But  there  is  a  gentleman,  sir,"  she  said,  "below,  who 
was  standing  at  the  door  when  I  came  in,  and  he  says " 

"  What  says  he  ?  "  demanded  Ralph,  turning  angrily  upon 
her.     "  I  told  you  I  would  see  nobody." 

"  He  says,"  replied  the  woman,  abashed  by  his  harshness, 
"  that  he  comes  on  very  particular  business,  which  admits  of 
no  excuse  ;  and  I  thought  perhaps  it  might  be  about " 

"  About  what,  in  the  de\  il's  name  1  "  said  Ralph.  "  You 
spy  and  speculate  on  people's  business  with  me,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Dear,  no,  sir !     I  saw  you  were  anxious,  and  thought  it 
might  be  about  Mr.  Noggs  ;  that's  all." 
jj  "  Saw  I  was  anxious  !  "  muttered  Ralph  ;  "  they  all  watch 

me,  now.     Where  is  this  person  ?     You  did  not  say  I  was 
not  down  yet,  I  hope  ?  " 

The   woman   replied  that  he  was  in  the  little  office,  and 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


757 


that  she  had  said  her  master  was  engaged,  but  she  would  take 
the  message. 

"Well,"  said  Ralph,  "I'll  see  him.  Go  you  to  your 
kitchen,  and  keep  there.     Do  you  mind  me  ?  " 

Glad  to  be  released,  the  woman  quickly  disappeared. 
Collecting  himself,  and  assuming  as  much  of  his  accustomed 
manner  as  his  utmost  resolution  could  summon,  Ralph  de- 
scended the  stairs.  After  pausing  for  a  few  moments,  with  his 
hand  upon  the  lock,  he  entered  Newman's  room,  and  con- 
fronted Mr.  Charles  Cheeryble. 

Of  all  men  alive,  this  was  one  of  the  last  he  would  have 
wished  to  meet  at  any  time  ;  but,  now,  that  he  recognized  in  him 
only  the  patron  and  protector  of  Nicholas,  he  would  rather  have 
seen  a  spectre.  One  beneficial  effect,  however,  the  encounter 
had  upon  him.  It  instantly  roused  all  his  dormant  energies  ; 
rekindled  in  his  breast  the  passions  that,  for  many  years,  had 
found  an  improving  home  there  ;  called  up  all  his  wrath,  ha- 
tred and  malice  ;  restored  the  sneer  to  his  lip,  and  the  scowl 
to  his  brow  j  and  made  him  again,  in  all  outward  appearance, 
the  same  Ralph  Nickleby  whom  so  many  had  bitter  cause  to 
remember. 

"  Humph  I  "  said  Ralph,  pausing  at  the  door.  "  This  is  an 
unexpected  favor,  sir." 

"  And  an  unwelcome  one,"  said  brother  Charles  ;  "  an  un- 
welcome one,  I  know." 

"  Men  say  you  are  truth  itself,  sir,"  replied  Ralph.  "  You 
speak  truth  now  at  all  events,  and  I'll  not  contradict  you. 
The  favor  is,  at  least,  as  unwelcome  as  it  is  unexpected.  I  can 
scarcely  say  more  !  " 

"  Plainly,  sir "  began  brother  Charles. 

"  Plainly,  sir,"  interrupted  Ralph,  "  I  wish  this  conference 
to  be  a  short  one,  and  to  end  where  it  begins.  I  guess  the 
subject  upon  which  you  are  about  to  speak,  and  I'll  not  hear 
you.  You  like  plainness,  I  believe  ;  there  it  is.  Here  is  the 
door  as  you  see.  Our  ways  lie  in  very  different  directions. 
Take  yours,  I  beg  of  you,  and  leave  me  to  pursue  mine  in 
quiet." 

"  In  quiet !  "  repeated  brother  Charles  mildly,  and  looking 
at  him  with  more  of  pity  than  reproach.  "  To  pursue  hiswx^ 
in  quiet  !  " 

"  You  will  scarcely  remain  in  my  house,  I  presume,  sir, 
against  my  will,"  said  Ralph  ;  "or  you  can  scarcely  hope  to 
make  an  impression  upon  a  man  who  closes  his  ears  to  all 


758 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


that  you  can  say,  and  is  firmly  and   resolutely  determined  not 
to  hear  you." 

"  Mr.  Nickleby,  sir,"  returned  brother  Charles  :  no  less 
mildly  than  before,  but  firmly  too,  "  I  come  here  against  my 
will,  sorely  and  grievously  against  my  will.  I  have  never  been 
in  this  house  before  ;  and,  to  speak  my  mind,  air,  I  don't  feel 
at  home  or  easy  in  it,  and  have  no  wish  ever  to  be  here  again. 
You  do  not  guess  the  subject  on  which  I  come  to  speak  to 
you ;  you  do  not  indeed.  I  am  sure  of  that,  or  your  manner 
would  be  a  very  different  one." 

Ralph  glanced  keenly  at  him,  but  the  clear  eye  and  open 
countenance  of  the  honest  old  merchant  underwent  no  change 
of  expression,  and  met  his  look  without  reserve. 

"  Shall  I  go  on  ?  "  said  Mr.  Cheeryble. 

"Oh,  by  all  means,  if  you  please,"  returned  Ralph  dryly. 
"  Here  are  walls  to  speak  to,  sir,  a  desk,  and  two  stools :  most 
attentive  auditors,  and  certain  not  to  interrupt  you.  Go  on,  I 
beg ;  make  my  house  yours,  and  perhaps  by  the  time  I  return 
from  my  walk,  you  will  have  finished  what  you  have  to  say, 
and  will  yield  me  up  possession  again." 

So  saying,  he  buttoned  his  coat,  and  turning  into  the 
passage,  took  down  his  hat.  The  old  gentleman  followed,  and 
was  about  to  speak,  when  Ralph  waved  him  off  impatiently, 
and  said : 

"  Not  a  word.  I  tell  you,  sir  not  a  word.  Virtuous  as 
you  are,  you  are  not  an  angel  yet,  to  appear  in  men's  houses 
whether  they  will  or  no,  and  pour  your  speech  into  unwilling 
ears.     Preach  to  the  walls  I  tell  you  ;  not  to  me  !  " 

"I  am  no  angel.  Heaven  knows,"  returned  brother 
Charles,  shaking  his  head,  "but  an  erring  and  imperfect  man; 
nevertheless,  there  is  one  quality  which  all  men  have,  in  com- 
mon with  the  angels,  blessed  opportunities  of  exercising,  if 
they  will,  mercy.  It  is  an  errand  of  mercy  that  brings  me 
here.     Prayf'let  me  discharge  it." 

"  I  show  no  mercy,"  retorted  Ralph  with  a  triumphant 
smile,  "  and  I  ask  none.  Seek  no  mercy  from  me,  sir,  in  be- 
half of  the  fellow  who  has  imposed  upon  your  childish  cre- 
dulity, but  let  him  expect  the  worst  that  I  can  do." 

"  H:  ask  mercy  at  your  hands  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  mer- 
chant warmly,  "  ask  it  at  his,  sir  :  ask  it  at  his.  If  you  will 
not  hear  me  now,  when  you  may,  hear  me  when  you  must,  or 
anticipate  what  I  would  say,  and  take  measures  to  pre- 
vent our  ever  meeting  again.     Your  nephew  is  a  noble  lad, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


759 


sir,  an  honest  noble  lad.  What  you  are,  Mr.  Nickleby,  I  will 
not  say  ;  but  what  you  have  done,  I  know.  Now,  sir,  when 
you  go  about  the  business  in  which  you  have  been  recently 
engaged,  and  find  it  difficult  of  pursuing,  come  to  me  and  my 
brother  Ned,  and  Tim  Linkinwater,  sir,  and  we'll  explain  it 
for  you — and  come  soon,  or  it  may  be  too  late,  and  you  may 
have  it  explained  with  a  little  more  roughness,  and  a  little  less 
delicacy — and  never  forget,  sir,  that  I  came  here  this  morn- 
ing, in  mercy  to  you,  and  am  still  ready  to  talk  to  you  in  the 
same  spirit." 

With  these  words,  uttered  with  great  emphasis  and 
emotion,  brother  Charles  put  on  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  and, 
passing  Ralph  Nickleby  without  any  other  remark,  trotted 
nimbly  into  the  street.  Ralph  looked  after  him,  but  neither 
moved  nor  spoke  for  some  time  :  when  he  broke  what  almost 
seemed  the  silence  of  stupefaction,  by  a  scornful  laugh. 

"  This,"  he  said,  "  from  its  wildness,  should  be  another  of 
those  dreams  that  have  so  broken  my  rest  of  late.  In  mercy 
to  me  !     Pho  !     The  old  simpleton  has  gone  mad." 

Although  he  expressed  himself  in  this  derisive  and  con- 
temptuous manner,  it  was  plain  that,  the  more  Ralph 
pondered,  the  more  ill  at  ease  he  became,  and  the  more  he 
labored  under  some  vague  anxiety  and  alarm,  which  increased 
as  the  time  passed  on  and  no  tidings  of  Newman  Noggs 
arrived.  After  waiting  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  tortured 
by  various  apprehensions  and  misgivings,  and  the  recollection 
of  the  warning  which  his  nephew  had  given  him  when  they 
last  met  :  the  further  confirmation  of  which  now  presented 
itself  in  one  shape  of  probability,  now  in  another,  and  haunted 
him  perpetually  ;  he  left  home,  and,  scarcely  knowing  why, 
save  that  he  was  in  a  suspicious  and  agitated  mood,  betook 
himself  to  Snawley's  house.  His  wife  presented  herself ; 
and,  of  her,  Ralph  inquired  whether  her  husband  was  at 
home. 

"  No,"  she  said  sharply,  "  he  is  not  indeed,  and  I  don't 
think  he  will  be  at  home  for  a  very  long  time  ;  that's  more." 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  "  asked  Ralph. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know  you  ver}^  well  ;  too  well,  perhaps,  and 
perhaps  he  does  too,  and  sorry  am  I  that  I  should  have  to 
say  it." 

"  Tell  him  that  I  saw  him  through  the  window-blind  above, 
as  I  crossed  the  road  just  now,  and  that  I  would  speak  to 
him  on  business,"  said  Ralph.     "  Do  you  hear  ?  " 


760  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 

"  I  hear,"  rejoined  Mrs,  Snawley,  taking  no  further  notice 
of  the  request. 

"  I  knew  this  woman  was  a  hypocrite,  in  the  way  of  psalms 
and  Scripture  phrases,"  said  Ralph,  passing  quietly  by,  "but 
I  nev^er  knew  she  drank  before." 

"  Stop  !  You  don't  come  in  here,"  said  Mr.  Snawley's 
better-half,  interposing  her  person,  which  was  a  robust  one, 
in  the  doorway.  "  You  have  said  more  than  enough  to  him 
on  business,  before  now.  I  always  told  him  what  dealing 
with  you  and  working  out  your  schemes  would  come  to.  It 
was  either  you  or  the  schoolmaster — one  of  you,  or  the  two 
between  you — that  got  the  forged  letter  done  ;  remember 
that !     That  wasn't  his  doing,  so  don't  lay  that  at  his  door." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  Jezebel,"  said  Ralph,  looking 
fearfully  round. 

"  Ah,  I  know  when  to  hold  my  tongue,  and  when  to  speak, 
Mr.  Nickleby,"  retorted  the  dame.  "Take  care  that  other 
people  know  when  to  hold  their  tongues." 

"  You  jade,"  said  Ralph,  "if  your  husband  has  been  idiot 
enough  to  trust  you  with  his  secrets,  keep  them  ;  keep  them, 
she-devil  that  you  are  I  " 

"  Not  so  much  his  secrets  as  other  people's  secrets  per- 
haps," retorted  the  woman ;  "  not  so  much  his  secrets  as 
yours.  None  of  your  black  looks  at  me  !  You'll  want  'em 
all  perhaps  for  another  time.     You  had  better  keep  'em." 

"Will  you,"  said  Ralph,  suppressing  his  passion  as  well 
as  he  could,  and  clutching  her  tightly  by  the  wrist  ;  "  will  you 
go  to  your  husband  and  tell  him  that  I  know  he  is  at  home, 
and  that  1  must  see  him  ?  And  will  you  tell  me  what  it  is, 
that  you  and  he  mean,  by  this  new  style  of  behavior  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  woman,  violently  disengaging  herself. 
"I'll  do  neither." 

"  You  set  me  at  defiance,  do  you  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer.     "  I  do." 

For  an  instant  Ralph  had  his  hand  raised,  as  though  he 
were  about  to  strike  her  ;  but,  checking  himself,  and  nodding 
his  head  and  muttering  as  though  to  assure  her  he  would  not 
forget  this,  walked  away. 

"Thence,  he  went  straight  to  the  inn  which  Mr.  Squeers 
frequented,  and  inquired  when  he  had  been  there  last ;  in  the 
vague  hope  that,  successful  or  unsuccessful,  he  might,  by  this 
time,  have  returned  from  his  mission  and  be  able  to  assure 
him  that  all  was  safe.     But  Mr.  Squeers  had  not  been  there, 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y  761 

for  ten  days,  and  all  that  the  people  could  tell  about  him  was, 
that  he  had  left  his  luggage  and  his  bill. 

Disturbed  by  a  thousand  fears  and  surmises,  and  bent 
upon  ascertaining  whether  Squeers  had  any  suspicion  of 
Snawley,  or  was,  in  any  way,  a  party  to  this  altered  behavior, 
Ralph  determined  to  hazard  the  extreme  step  of  inquiring  for 
him  at  the  Lambeth  Lodging,  and  having  an  interview  with 
him  even  there.  Bent  upon  this  purpose,  and  in  that  mood 
in  which  delay  is  insupportable,  he  repaired  at  once  to  the 
place  ;  and  tjeing,  by  description,  perfectly  acquainted  with 
the  situation  of  his  room,  crept  upstairs  and  knocked  gently 
at  the  door. 

Not  one,  nor  two,  nor  three,  nor  yet  a  dozen  knocks, 
served  to  convince  Ralph,  against  his  wish,  that  there  was 
nobody  inside.  He  reasoned  that  he  might  be  asleep  ;  and, 
listening,  almost  persuaded  himself  that  he  could  hear  him 
breathe.  Even  when  he  was  satisfied  that  he  could  not  be 
there,  he  sat  patiently  on  a  broken  stair  and  waited  ;  arguing 
that  he  had  gone  out  upon  some  slight  errand,  and  must  soon 
return. 

Many  feet  came  up  the  creaking  stairs  ;  and  the  step  of 
some  seemed  to  his  listening  ear  so  like  that  of  the  man  for 
whom  he  waited,  that  Ralph  often  stood  up  to  be  ready  to 
address  him  when  he  reached  the  top  ;  but,  one  by  one,  each 
person  turned  off  into  some  room  short  of  the  place  where  he 
was  stationed  ;  and  at  every  such  disappointment  he  felt  quite 
chilled  and  lonely. 

At  length  he  felt  it  was  quite  hopeless  to  remain,  and 
going  down  stairs  again,  inquired  of  one  of  the  lodgers  if  he 
knew  anything  of  Mr.  Squeers's  movements — mentioning  that 
worthy  by  an  assumed  name  which  had  been  agreed  upon 
between  them.  By  this  lodger  he  was  referred  to  another, 
and  by  him  to  some  one  else,  from  whom  he  learnt,  that,  late 
on  the  previous  night,  he  had  gone  out  hastily  with  two  men, 
who  had  shortly  afterwards  returned  for  the  old  woman  who 
lived  on  the  same  floor ;  and  that,  although  the  circumstance 
had  attracted  the  attention  of  the  informant,  he  had  not 
spoken  to  them  at  the  time,  nor  made  any  inquiry  afterwards. 

This  possessed  him  with  the  idea  that,  perhaps,  Peg  Sli- 
derskevv  had  been  apprehended  for  the  robbery,  and  that  Mr. 
Squeers,  being  with  her  at  the  time,  had  been  apprehended  also, 
on  suspicion  of  being  a  confederate.  If  this  were  so,  the  fact 
must  be  known  to  Gride  ;  and  to  Gride's  house  he  directed 


762 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


his  steps  :  now   thoroughly  alarmed,  and  fearful  that  there 
were  indeed  plots  afoot,  tending  to  his  discomhture  and  ruin. 

Arrived  at  the  usurer's  house,  he  found  the  windows  close 
shut,  the  dingy  blinds  drawn  down  :  all  silent,  melancholy, 
and  deserted.  But  this  was  its  usual  aspect.  He  knocked — 
gently  at  first — then  loud  and  vigorously.  Nobody  came. 
He  wrote  a  few  words  in  pencil  on  a  card,  and  having  thrust 
it  under  the  door  was  going  away,  when  a  noise  above,  as 
though  a  window-sash  were  stealthily  raised,  caught  his  ear, 
and  looking  up  he  could  just  discern  the  face  of  Gride  himself, 
cautiously  peering  over  the  house  parapet  from  the  window  of 
the  garret.  Seeing  who  was  below,  he  drew  it  in  again  ;  not 
so  quickly,  however,  but  that  Ralph  let  him  know  he  was 
observed,  and  called  to  him  to  come  down. 

The  call  being  repeated.  Gride  looked  out  again,  so 
cautiously  that  no  part  of  the  old  man's  body  was  visible. 
The  sharp  features  and  white  hair  appearing  alone,  above  the 
parapet,  looked  like  a  severed  head  garnishing  the  wall 

"  Hush  !  "  he  cried.     "  Go  away,  go  away  !  " 

"  Come  down,"  said  Ralph,  beckoning  him. 

"Go  a — way!"  squeaked  Gride,  shaking  his  head  in  a 
sort  of  ecstasy  of  impatience.  "  Don't  speak  to  me,  don't 
knock,  don't  call  attention  to  the  house,  but  go  away." 

"  I'll  knock,  I  swear,  till  I  have  your  neighbors  up  in 
arms,"  said  Ralph,  'if  you  don't  tell  me  what  you  mean  by 
lurking  there,  you  whining  cur." 

"  I  can't  hear  what  you  say — don't  talk  to  me — it  isn't 
safe — go  away — go  away  !  "  returned  Gride. 

"  Come  down,  I  say.  Will  you  come  down  !  "  said  Ralph 
fiercely. 

"No — o — o — o,"  snarled  Gride.  He  drew  in  his  head; 
and  Ralph,  left  standing  in  the  street,  could  hear  the  sash 
closed,  as  gently  and  carefully  as  it  had  been  opened. 

"Howls  this,"  said  he,  "that  they  all  fall  from  me,  and 
shun  me  like  the  plague,  these  men  who  have  licked  the  dust 
from  my  feet !  Is  my  day  past,  and  is  this  indeed  the  coming 
on  of  night.?  I'll  know  what  it  means  !  I  will,  at  any  cost. 
I  am  lirmer  and  more  myself,  just  now,  than  1  have  been 
these  many  days." 

Turning  from  the  door,  which,  in  the  first  transport  of  his 
rage,  he  had  meditated  battering  upon,  until  Gride's  very 
fears  should  impel  him  to  open  it,  he  turned  his  face  towards 
the  city,  and  working  his  way  steadily  through  the  crowd 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  763 

which  was  pouring  from  it  (it  was  by  this  time  between  five 
and  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon)  went  straight  to  the  house 
of  business  of  the  Brothers  Cheeryble,  and  putting  liis  head 
into  the  glass  case,  found  Tim  Linkinwater  alone. 

"  My  name's  Nickleby,"  said  Ralph. 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Tim,  surveying  him  through  his 
spectacles. 

"  Which  of  your  firm  was  it  who  called  on  me  this  morn- 
ing ? "  demanded  Ralph. 

"  Mr.  Charles." 

"  Then,  tell  Mr.  Charles  I  want  to  see  him.'' 

"  You  shall  see,"  said  Tim,  getting  off  his  stool  with  great 
agility,  "you  shall  see,  not  only  Mr.  Charles,  but  Mr,  Ned 
likewise." 

Tim  stopped,  looked  steadily  and  severely  at  Ralph, 
nodded  his  head  once  in  a  curt  manner  which  seemed  to  say 
there  was  a  little  more  behind,  and  vanished.  After  a  short 
interval,  he  returned,  and,  ushering  Ralph  into  the  presence 
of  the  two  brothers,  remained  in  the  room  himself. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,  who  spoke  to  me  this  morning," 
said  Ralph,  pointing  out  with  his  finger  the  man  whom  he 
addressed. 

"  I  have  no  secrets  from  my  brother  Ned,  or  from  Tim 
Linkinwater."  observed  brother  Charles  quietly. 

"  I  have,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Mr.  Nickleby,  sir,"  said  brother  Ned,  "  the  matter  upon 
which  my  brother  Charles  called  upon  you  this  morning,  is 
one  which  is  already  perfectly  well  known  to  us  three,  and  to 
others  besides,  and  must  unhappily  soon  become  known  to  a 
great  many  more.  He  waited  upon  you,  sir,  this  morning, 
alone,  as  a  matter  of  delicacy  and  consideration.  We  feel, 
now,  that  further  delicacy  and  consideration  would  be  mis- 
placed ;  and,  if  we  confer  together,  it  must  be  as  we  are,  or 
not  at  all." 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Ralph,  with  a  curl  of  the  lip, 
"  talking  in  riddles  would  seem  to  be  the  peculiar  forte  of  you 
two,  and  I  suppose  your  clerk,  like  a  prudent  man,  has 
studied  the  art  also  with  a  view  to  your  good  graces.  Talk 
in  company,  gentlemen,  in  God's  name.     I'll  humor  you." 

"  Humor  !  "  cried  Tim  Linkinwater,  suddenly  growing 
very  red  in  the  face,  "  He'll  humor  us  !  He'll  humor  Cheeryble 
Brothers  !  Do  you  hear  that .''  Do  you  hear  him  .''  Do  you 
hear  him  say  he'll  humor  Cheeiyble  Brothers  ?  " 


764  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  Tim,"  said  Charles  and  Ned  together,  "  pray  Tim,  pray 
now,  don't." 

Tim,  taking  the  hint,  stifled  his  indignation  as  well  as  he 
could,  and  suffered  it  to  escape  through  his  spectacles,  with 
the  additional  safety  valve  of  a  short  hysterical  laugh  now 
and  then,  which  seemed  to  relieve  him  mightily. 

"As  nobody  bids  me  to  a  seat,"  said  Ralph,  looking 
round,  "  I'll  take  one,  for  I  am  fatigued  with  walking.  And 
now,  if  you  please,  gentlemen,  I  wish  to  know — 1  demand  to 
know  \  I  have  the  right — what  you  have  to  say  to  me,  which 
justifies  such  a  tone  as  you  have  assumed,  and  that  underhand 
interference  in  my  affairs  which,  I  have  reason  to  suppose, 
you  have  been  practising.  I  tell  you  plainly,  gentlemen,  that 
little  as  I  care  for  the  opinion  of  the  world  (as  the  slang  goes), 
I  don't  choose  to  submit  quietly  to  slander  and  malice. 
Whether  you  suffer  yourselves  to  be  imposed  upon,  too  easily, 
or  wilfully  make  yourselves  parties  to  it,  the  result  to  me  is 
the  same.  In  either  case,  you  can't  expect  from  a  plain  man 
like  myself  much  consideration  or  forbearance." 

§0  coolly  and  deliberately  was  this  said,  that  nine  men 
out  of  ten,  ignorant  of  the  circumstances,  would  have  supposed 
Ralph  to  be  really  an  injured  man.  There  he  sat,  with 
folded  arms  ;  paler  than  usual,  certainly,  and  sulificiently  ill- 
favored,  but  quite  collected — far  more  so,  than  the  brothers 
or  the  exasperated  Tim — and  ready  to  face  out  the  worst. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  said  brother  Charles.  "Very  well. 
Brother  Ned,  will  you  ring  the  bell  1  " 

"  Charles,  my  clear  fellow  !  stop  one  instant,"  returned  the 
other.  "  It  will  be  better  for  Mr.  Nickleby  and  for  our  object, 
that  he  should  remain  silent  if  he  can,  till  we  have  said  what 
we  have  to  say.     I  wish  him  to  understand  that." 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right,"  said  brother  Charles. 

Ralph  smiled,  but  made  no  reply.  The  bell  was  rung ; 
the  room-door  opened  ;  a  man  came  in,  with  a  halting  Avalk  ; 
and,  looking  round,  Ralph's  eyes  met  those  of  Newman  Noggs. 
From  that  moment,  his  heart  began  to  fail  him. 

"  This  is  a  good  beginning,"  he  said  bitterly.  "  Oh  !  this 
is  a  good  beginning.  You  are  candid,  honest,  open-hearted, 
fair-dealing  men  !  I  always  knew  the  real  worth  of  such 
characters  as  yours  !  To  tamper  with  a  fellow  like'this,  who 
would  sell  his  soul  (it  he  had  one)  for  drink,  and  whose  every 
word  is  a  lie  !  What  men  are  safe  if  this  is  done  ?  Oh  it's  a 
good  beginning  !  " 


4 

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NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  765 

"I  7f'/// speak,"  cried  Newman,  standing  on  tiptoe  to  look 
over  Tim's  head,  who  had  interposed  to  prevent  him.  "  Hallo, 
you  sir — old  Nickleby  ! — what  do  you  mean  when  you  talk  of 
'a  fellow  like  this  ? '  Who  made  me  '  a  fellow  like  this  ?  '  If 
I  would  sell  my  soul  for  drink,  why  wasn't  I  a  thief,  swindler, 
housebreaker,  area  sneak,  robber  of  pence  out  of  the  trays  of 
blind  men's  dogs,  rather  than  j'our  drudge  and  packhorse  ? 
If  my  e\ery  word  was  a  lie,  why  wasn't  I  a  pet  and  favorite 
of  yours  ?  Lie  !  When  did  I  e\er  cringe  and  fawn  to  you  ? 
Tell  me  that  !  I  served  you  faithfully.  I  did  more  work, 
because  I  was  poor,  and  took  more  hard  words  from  you 
because  I  despised  you  and  them,  than  any  man  you  could 
have  got  from  the  parish  workhouse.  I  did.  I  served  you 
because  I  was  proud  ;  because  I  was  a  lonely  man  with  you, 
and  there  were  no  other  drudges  to  see  my  degradation  ; 
because  nobody  knew,  better  than  you,  that  I  was  a  ruined 
man,  that  I  hadn't  always  been  what  I  am,  and  that  I  might 
have  been  better  off,  if  I  hadn't  been  a  fool  and  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  you  and  others  who  were  knaves.  Do  you  deny 
that  ■>.  " 

"Gently,"  reasoned  Tim,  "you  said  you  wouldn't." 

"  I  said  I  wouldn't !  "  cried  Newman,  thrusting  him  aside, 
and  moving  his  hand  as  Tim  moved,  so  as  to  keep  him  at 
arm's-length.  "  Don't  tell  me  !  Here,  you  Nickleby  !  Don't 
pretend  not  to  mind  me  ;  it  won't  do  ;  I  know  better.  You 
were  talking  of  tampering,  just  now.  Who  tampered  with 
Yorkshire  schoolmasters,  and,  while  they  sent  the  drudge  out 
that  he  shouldn't  overhear,  forgot  that  such  great  caution 
might  render  him  suspicious,  and  that  he  might  watch  his 
master  out  at  nights,  and  might  set  other  eyes  to  watch  the 
schoolmaster  ?  Who  tampered  with  a  selfish  father,  urging 
him  to  sell  his  daughter  to  old  Arthur  Gride,  and  tampered 
with  Gride  too,  and  did  so  in  the  little  office  7£////z  a  closet  in 
the  room  2  " 

Ralph  had  put  a  great  command  upon  himself ;  but  he 
could  not  have  suppressed  a  slight  start,  if  he  had  been  cer- 
tain to  be  beheaded  for  it  next  moment. 

"Aha!"  cried  Newman.  "You  mind  me  now,  do  you  .'' 
What  first  set  this  fag  to  be  jealous  of  his  master's  actions, 
and  to  feel  that,  if  he  hadn't  crossed  him  when  he  might,  he 
would  have  been  as  bad  as  he,  or  worse  ?  That  master's  cruel 
treatment  of  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  and  vile  designs  upon 
a  young  girl  who  interested  even  his  broken-down  drunken 


766 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


miserable  hack,  and  made  him  Unger  in  his  service,  in  the  hope 
of  doing  her  some  good  (as,  thank  God,  he  had  done  others, 
once  or  twice  before),  when  he  would,  otherwise,  have  relieved 
his  feelings  by  pummelling  his  master  soundly,  and  then  go- 
ing to  the  Devil.  He  would — mark  that  ;  and  mark  this — that 
I'm  here  now,  because  these  gentlemen  thought  it  best.  When 
I  sought  them  out  (as  I  did  ;  there  was  no  tampering  with  me), 
I  told  them  I  wanted  help  to  find  you  out,  to  trace  you  down, 
to  go  through  with  what  I  had  begun,  to  help  the  right  ;  and 
that  when  I  had  done  it,  I'd  burst  into  your  room  and  tell  you 
all,  face  to  face,  man  to  man,  and  like  a  man.  Now  I've  said 
my  say,  and  let  anybody  else  say  theirs,  and  fire  away  !  " 

With  this  concluding  sentiment,  Newmtm  Noggs,  who  had 
been  perpetually  sitting  down  and  getting  up  again  all  through 
his  speech,  which  he  had  delivered  in  a  series  of  jerks  ;  and 
who  was,  from  the  violent  exercise  and  the  excitement  com- 
bined, in  a  state  of  most  intense  and  fiery  heat ;  became, 
without  passing  through  any  intermediate  stage,  stiff,  upright, 
and  motionless,  and  so  remained,  staring  at  Ralph  Nickleby 
with  all  his  might  and  main. 

Ralph  looked  at  him,  for  an  instant,  and  for  an  instant 
only ;  then,  waved  his  hand,  and  beating  the  ground  with  his 
foot,  said  in  a  choking  voice  : 

"  Go  on,  gentlemen,  go  on  !  I'm  patient,  you  see.  There's 
law  to  be  had,  there's  law.  I  shall  call  you  to  an  account  for 
this.     Take  care  what  you  say  ;  I  shall  make  you  prove  it." 

"The  proof  is  ready,"  returned  Brother  Charles,  "quite 
ready  to  our  hands.  The  man  Snawley,  last  night,  made  a 
confession." 

"  Who  may  'the  man  Snawley  '  be,"  returned  Ralph,  "  and 
what  may  his  '  confession  '  have  to  do  with  my  affairs  ?  " 

To  this  inquiry,  put  with  a  dogged  inflexibility  of  manner, 
the  old  gentleman  returned  no  answer,  but  went  on  to  say, 
that  to  show  him  how  much  they  were  in  earnest,  it  wpuld  be 
necessary  to  tell  him,  not  only  what  accusations  were  made 
against  him,  but  what  proof  of  them  they  had,  and  how  that 
proof  had  been  acquired.  This  laying  open  of  the  whole 
question,  brought  up  brother  Ned,  Tim  Linkinwater,  and  New- 
man Noggs,  all  three  at  once  \  who,  after  a  vast  deal  of  talk- 
ing together,  and  a  scene  of  great  confusion,  laid  before  Ralph, 
in  distinct  terms,  the  following  statement. 

That,  Newman,  ha\inir  been  solemnlv  assured  bv  one  not 
then  producible  that  Smike  was  not  the  son  of  Snawley,  and 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  767 

this  person  having  offered  to  make  oath  to  that  effect,  if  neces- 
sary, they  had  by  this  communication  been  first  led  to  doubt 
the  claim  set  up,  which  they  would  otherwise  have  seen  no 
reason  to  dispute  ;  supported  as  it  was  by  evidence  which  they 
had  no  power  of  disproving.  That,  once  suspecting  the  exist- 
ence of  a  conspiracy,  they  had  no  difficulty  in  tracing  back 
its  origin  to  the  malice  01  Ralph,  and  the  vindictiveness  and 
avarice  of  Squeers.  That,  suspicion  and  proof  being  two 
very  different  things,  they  had  been  advised  by  a  lawyer,  emi- 
nent for  his  sagacity  and  acuteness  in  such  practice,  to  resist 
the  proceedings  taken  on  the  other  side  for  the  recovery  of 
the  youth,  as  slowly  and  artfully  as  possible,  and  meanwhile 
to  beset  Snawley  (with  whom  it  was  clear  the  main  falsehood 
must  rest).;  to  lead  him,  if  possible,  into  contradictory  and 
conflicting  statements  ;  to  harass  him  by  all  available  means  ; 
and  so  to  practice  on  his  fears,  and  regard  for  his  own  safety, 
as  to  induce  him  to  divulge  the  whole  scheme,  and  to  give  up 
his  employer  and  whomsoever  else  he  could  implicate.  That 
all  this  had  been  skilfully  done  ;  but  that  Snawley,  who  was 
well  practised  in  the  arts  of  low  cunning  and  intrigue,  had 
successfully  baffled  all  their  attempts,  until  an  unexpected  cir- 
cumstance had  brought  him,  last  night,  upon  his  knees. 

It  thus  arose.  When  Newman  Noggs  reported  that  Squeers 
was  again  in  town,  and  that  an  interview  of  such  secrecy  had 
taken  place  between  him  and  Ralph  that  he  had  been  sent 
out  of  the  house,  plainly  lest  he  should  overhear  a  word,  a 
watch  was  set  upon  the  schoolmaster,  in  the  hope  that  some- 
thing might  be  discovered  which  would  throw  some  light  upon 
the  suspected  plot.  It  being  found,  however,  that  he  held  no 
further  communication  with  Ralph,  nor  any  with  Snawley,  and 
lived  quite  alone,  they  were  completely  at  fault ;  the  watch 
was  withdrawn,  and  they  would  have  observed  his  motions  no 
longer,  if  it  had  not  happened  that,  one  night,  Newman 
stumbled  unobserved  on  him  and  Ralph  in  the  street  together. 
Following  them,  he  discovered,  to  his  surprise,  that  they  re- 
paired to  various  low  lodging-houses,  and  taverns  kept  by 
broken  gamblers,  to  more  than  one  of  whom  Ralph  was  known, 
and  that  they  were  in  pursuit — so  he  found  by  inquiries  when 
they  had  left — of  an  old  woman,  whose  description  exactly 
tallied  with  that  of  deaf  Mrs.  Sliderskew.  Affairs  now  appear- 
ing to  assume  a  more  serious  complexion,  the  watch  was  re- 
newed with  increased  vigilance  ;  an  officer  was  procured,  who 
took  up  his   abode  in  the  same  tavern  with  Squeers ;  .-md  by 


768 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


him  and  Frank  Cheeryble,  the  footsteps  of  the  unconscious 
schoohnaster  were  clogged,  until  he  was  safely  housed  in  the 
lodging  at  Lambeth.  Mr.  Squeers  having  shifted  his  lodging, 
the  officer  shifted  his,  and  lying  concealed  in  the  same  street, 
and,  indeed,  in  the  opposite  house,  soon  found  that  Mr. 
Squeers  and  Mrs.  Sliderskew  were  in  constant  communication. 

In  this  state  of  things,  Arthur  Gride  was  appealed  to. 
The  robbery,  partly  owing  to  the  inquisitiveness  of  the  neigh- 
bors, and  partly  to  his  own  grief  and  rage,  had,  long  ago,  be- 
come known  ;  but  he  positively  refused  to  give  his  sanction 
or  yield  any  assistance  to  the  old  woman's  capture,  and  was 
seized  with  such  a  panic  at  the  idea  of  being  called  upon  to 
give  evidence  against  her,  that  he  shut  himself  up  close,  in  his 
house,  and  refused  to  hold  communication  with  anybody. 
Upon  this,  the  pursuers  took  counsel  together,  and,  coming  so 
near  the  truth  as  to  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  Gride  and 
Ralph,  with  Squeers  for  their  instrument,  were  negotiating  for 
the  recovery  of  some  of  the  stolen  papers  which  would  not 
bear  the  light,  and  might  possibly  explain  the  hints  relative  to 
Madeline  which  Newman  had  overheard,  resolved  that  Mrs. 
Sliderskew  should  be  taken  into  custody  before  she  had  parted 
with  them  :  and  Squeers  too,  if  anything  suspicious  could  be 
attached  to  him.  Accordingly,  a  search-warrant  being  pro- 
cured, and  all  prepared,  Mr.  Squeers's  window  was  watched, 
until  his  light  was  put  out,  and  the  time  arrived  when,  as  had 
been  previously  ascertained,  he  usually  visited  Mrs.  Sliderskew. 
This  done,  Frank  Cheer}.'ble  and  Newman  stole  up  stairs  to 
listen  to  their  discourse,  and  to  give  the  signal  to  the  officer 
at  the  most  favorable  time.  At  what  an  opportune  moment 
they  arrived,  how  they  listened,  and  what  they  heard,  is  already 
known  to  the  reader.  Mr.  Squeers,  still  half  stunned,  was 
hurried  off  with  a  stolen  deed  in  his  possession,  and  Mrs. 
Sliderskew  was  apprehended  likewise.  The  information  being 
promptly  carried  to  Snawley  that  Squeers  was  in  custody  he 
was  not  told  for  what — that  worthy,  first  extorting  a  promise 
that  he  should  be  kept  harmless,  declared  the  whole  tale  con- 
cerning Smike  to  be  a  fiction  and  forgery,  and  implicated 
Ralph^Nickleby  to  the  fullest  extent.  As  to  Mr.  Squeers,  he 
had,  that  morning,  undergone  a  private  examination  before  a 
magistrate  :  and,  being  unable  to  account  satisfactorily  for  his 
possession  of  the  deed  or  his  companionship  with  Mrs.  Slider- 
skew, had  been,  with  her,  remanded  for  a  week. 

All  these  discoveries  were  now  related  to  Ralph,  circum- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  7  69 

stantially,  and  in  detail.  Whatever  impression  they  secretly 
produced,  he  suffered  no  sign  of  emotion  to  escape  him,  but 
sat  perfectly  still,  not  raising  his  frowning  eyes  from  the 
ground,  and  covering  his  mouth  with  his  hand.  When  the 
narrative  was  concluded,  he  raised  his  head  hastily,  as  if  about 
to  speak,  but  on  brother  Charles  resuming,  fell  into  his  old 
attitude  again. 

"I  told  you  this  morning,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  laying 
his  hand  upon  his  brother's  shoulder,  "  that  I  came  to  you  in 
mercy.  How  far  you  may  be  implicated  in  this  last  transaction, 
or  how  far  the  person  who  is  now  in  custody  may  criminate 
you,  you  best  know.  But,  justice  must  take  its  course  against 
the  i^arties  implicated  in  the  plot  against  this  poor,  unoffend- 
ing, injured  lad.  It  is  not  in  my  power,  or  in  the  power  of 
my  brother  Ned,  to  save  you  from  the  consequences.  The 
utmost  we  can  do,  is,  to  warn  you  in  time,  and  to  give  you  an 
opportunity  of  escaping  them.  We  would  not  have  an  old 
man  like  you  disgraced  and  punished  by  your  near  relation  ; 
nor  would  we  have  him  forget,  like  you,  all  ties  of  blood  and 
nature.  We  entreat  you — brother  Ned,  you  join  me,  I  know, 
in  this  entreaty,  and  so,  Tim  Linkinwater,  do  you,  although 
you  pretend  to  be  an  obstinate  dog,  sir,  and  sit  there  frowning 
as  if  you  didn't — we  entreat  you  to  retire  from  London,  to  take 
shelter  in  some  place  where  you  will  be  safe  from  the  con- 
sequences of  these  wicked  designs,  and  where  you  may  have 
time,  sir,  to  atone  for  them,  and  to  become  a  better  man." 

"  And  do  you  think,"  returned  Ralph,  rising,  "  and  do  you 
think,  you  will  so  easily  crush  ;;;t'  ?  Do  you  think  that  a 
hundred  well-arranged  plans,  or  a  hundred  suborned  witnesses, 
or  a  hundred  false  curs  at  my  heels,  or  a  hundred  canting 
speeches  full  of  oily  words,  will  move  me  ?  I  thank  you  for 
disclosing  your  schemes,  which  I  am  now  prepared  for.  You 
have  not  the  man  to  deal  with  that  you  think  ;  try  me  !  and 
remember  that  I  spit  upon  your  fair  words  and  false  dealings, 
and  dare  you — provoke  you — taunt  you — to  do  to  me  the 
very  worst  you  can  !  " 

Thus  they  parted,  for  that  time ;  but  the  worst  had  not 
come  yet. 

•  49 


770  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

THE    DANGERS   THICKEN,    AND   THE   WORST   IS   TOLD. 

Instead  of  going  home,  Ralph  threw  himself  into  the  first 
street  cabriolet  he  could  find,  and,  directing  the  driver  towards 
the  police  office  of  the  district  in  which  Mr.  Squeers's  mis- 
fortunes had  occurred,  alighted  at  a  short  distance  from  it, 
and,  discharging  the  man,  went  the  rest  of  his  way  thither  on 
foot.  Inquiring  for  the  object  of  his  solicitude,  he  learnt  that 
he  had  timed  his  visit  well ;  for  Mr.  Squeers  was,  in  fact,  at 
that  moment  waiting  for  a  hackney-coach  he  had  ordered,  and 
in  which  he  purposed  proceeding  to  his  week's  retirement  like 
a  gentleman. 

Demanding  speech  with  the  prisoner,  he  was  ushered  into 
a  kind  of  waiting-room  in  which,  by  reason  of  his  scholastic 
profession  and  superior  respectability,  Mr.  Squeers  had  been 
permitted  to  pass  the  day.  Here,  by  the  light  of  a  guttering 
and  blackened  candle,  he  could  barely  discern  the  school- 
master, fast  asleep  on  a  bench  in  a  remote  corner.  An  empty 
glass  stood  on  a  table  before  him,  which,  with  his  somnolent 
condition  and  a  very  strong  smell  of  brandy  and  water,  fore- 
warned the  visitor  that  Mr.  Squeers  had  been  seeking,  in 
creature  comforts,  a  temporary  forgetfulness  of  his  unpleasant 
situation. 

It  was  not  a  very  easy  matter  to  rouse  him  ;  so  lethargic 
and  heavy  were  his  slumbers.  Regaining  his  faculties  by  slow 
and  faint  glimmerings,  he  at  length  sat  upright ;  and,  display- 
ing a  very  yellow  face,  a  very  red  nose,  and  a  very  bristly 
beard  ;  the  joint  effect  of  which  was  considerably  heightened 
by  a  dirty  white  handkerchief,  spotted  with  blood,  drawn  over 
the  crown  of  his  head  and  tied  under  his  chin  ;  stared  ruefully 
at  Ralph  in  silence,  until  his  feelings  found  a  vent  in  this  pithy 
sentence  : 

"I  say,  young  fellow,  you've  been  and  done  it  now;  you 
have  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  your  head  ?  "  asked  Ralph. 

"  Why,  your  man,  your  informing  kidnapping  man,  has 
been  and  broke  it,"  rejoined  Squeers  sulkily;  "that's  what's 
the  matter  with  it.     You've  come  at  last,  have  you  ?  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


771 


"  Why  have  you  not  sent  to  me  ?  "  said  Ralph.  "  How 
could  I  come  till  I  knew  what  had  befallen  you  ?  " 

"  My  family  !  "  hiccupped  Mr.  Squeers,  raising  his  eye  to 
the  ceiling  ;  ''  my  daughter,  as  is  at  that  age  when  all  the 
sensibilities  is  a  coming  out  strong  in  blow — my  son  as  is  the 
young  Norval  of  private  life,  and  the  pride  and  ornament  of  a 
doting  will  age — here's  a  shock  for  my  family  !  The  coat  of 
arms  of  the  Squeerses  is  tore,  and  their  sun  is  gone  down  into 
the  ocean  wave  !  " 

"You  have  been  drinking,"  said  Ralph,  "and  have  not  3'et 
slept  yourself  sober." 

"I  haven't  been  drinking ji'(7?^r health,  my  codger,"  replied 
Mr.  Squeers  ;  "  so  you  have  nothing  to  do  with  that." 

Ralph  suppressed  the  indignation  which  the  schoolmaster's 
altered  and  insolent  manner  awakened,  and  asked  again  why 
he  had  not  sent  to  him. 

"  What  should  I  get  by  sending  to  you  ? "  returned  Squeers. 
"  To  be  known  to  be  in  with  you,  wouldn't  do  me  a  deal  of 
good,  and  they  won't  take  bail  till  they  know  something  more 
of  the  case,  so  here  am  I  hard  and  fast ;  and  there  are  you, 
loose  and  comfortable." 

"  And  so  must  you  be,  in  a  few  days,"  retorted  Ralph,  with 
affected  good  humor.     "They  can't  hurt  you,  man." 

"  Why,  I  suppose  they  can't  do  much  to  me,  if  I  explain  how 
it  was  that  I  got  into  the  good  company  of  that  there  ca-daver- 
ous  old  Slider,"  replied  Squeers  viciously,  "  who  I  wish  was 
dead  and  buried,  and  resurrected  and  dissected,  and  hung 
upon  wires  in  a  anatomical  museum,  before  ever  I'd  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  her.  This  is  what  him  with  the  powdered 
head  says  this  morning,  in  so  many  words  :  '  Prisoner  !  As 
you  have  been  found  in  companv  with  this  woman  ;  as  you 
were  detected  in  possession  of  this  document ;  as  you  were 
engaged  with  her  in  fraudulently  destroying  others,  and  can 
give  no  satisfactory  account  of  yourself ;  I  shall  remand  you 
for  a  week,  in  order  that  inquiries  may  be  made,  and  evidence 
got.  And  meanwhile  I  can't  take  any  bail  for  your  appearance.' 
Well  then,  what  I  say  now,  is,  that  I  can  give  a  satisfactory 
account  of  myself ;  I  can  hand  in  the  card  of  my  establish- 
ment and  say,  '  /  am  the  Wackford  Squeers  as  is  therein 
named,  sir.  I  am  the  man  as  is  guaranteed,  by  unimpeach- 
able references,  to  be  a  out-and-outer  in  morals  and  upright- 
ness of  principle.  Whatever  is  wrong  in  this  business  is  no 
fault  of  mine.    I  had  no  evil  design  in  it,  sir.    I  was  not  aware 


772 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


that  anything  was  wrong.  I  was  merely  employed  by  a  friend 
my  friend  Mr.  Ralph  Nickleby,  of  Golden  Square,  Send  for 
him,  sir,  and  ask  him  what  he  has  to  say  ;  he's  the  man  ;  not 
me  ! '" 

"What  document  was  it  that  you  had?"  asked  Ralph, 
evading,  for  the  moment,  the  point  just  raised. 

"  What  document .''  Why,  the  document,"  replied  Squeers. 
"  The  Madeline  what's-her-name  one.  It  was  a  will ;  that's 
what  it  was." 

"  Of  what  nature,  whose  will,  when  dated,  how  benefiting 
her,  to  what  extent  ?  "  asked  Ralph  hurriedly. 

"  A  will  in  her  favor  ;  that's  all  1  know,"  rejoined  Squeers, 
"and  that's  more  than  you'd  have  known,  if  you'd  had  them 
bellows  on  your  head.  It's  all  owing  to  your  precious  caution 
that  they  got  hold  of  it.  If  you  had  let  me  burn  it,  and  taken 
my  word  that  it  was  gone,  it  would  have  been  a  heap  of  ashes 
behind  the  fire,  instead  of  being  whole  and  sound,  inside  of 
my  great-coat." 

"  Beaten  at  every  point !  "  muttered  Ralph. 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  Squeers,  who,  between  the  brandy  and 
water  and  his  broken  head,  wandered  strangely,  "  at  the  de- 
lightful village  of  Dotheboys  near  Greta  Bridge  in  Yorkshire, 
youth  are  boarded,  clothed,  booked,  washed,  furnished  with 
pocket-money,  provided  with  all  necessaries,  instructed  in  all 
languages  living  and  dead,  mathematics,  orthography,  geome- 
try, astronomy,  trigonometry — this  is  a  altered  state  of  trigo- 
nomics,  this  is  !  A  double  1 — all,  everything — a  cobbler's 
weapon.  U-p-up,  adjective,  not  down.  S-q-u-double-e-r-s- 
Squeers,  noun  substantive,  a  educator  of  youth.  Total,  all  up 
with  Squeers  !  " 

His  running  on,  in  this  way,  had  afforded  Ralph  an  op- 
portunity of  recovering  his  presence  of  mind,  which  at  once 
suggested  to  him  the  necessity  of  removing,  as  far  as  possible, 
the  schoolmaster's  misgivings,  and  leading  him  to  believe 
that  his  safety  and  best  policy  lay  in  the  preservation  of  a 
ri2:id  silence. 

"  I  tell  you,  once  again,"  he  said,  "  they  can't  hurt  you. 
You  shall  have  an  action  for  false  imprisonment,  and  make  a 
profit  of  this,  yet.  We  will  devise  a  story  for  you  that  should 
carry  you  through  twenty  times  such  a  trivial  scrape  as  this ; 
and  if  they  want  security  in  a  thousand  pounds  for  your  reap- 
pearance in  case  you  should  be  called  upon,  you  shall  have 
it.     All  you  have  to  do,  is,  to  keep  back  the  truth.     You're  a 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


773 


little  fuddled  to-night,  and  may  not  be  able  to  see  this  as 
clearly  as  you  would  at  another  time  ;  but  this  is  what  you 
must  do,  and  you'll  need  all  your  senses  about  you  ;  for  a  slip 
misfht  be  awkward." 

"Oh,"  said  Squeers,  who  had  looked  cunningly  at  him, 
with  his  head  stuck  on  one  side,  like  an  old  raven.  "  That's 
what  I'm  to  do,  is  it  ?  Now  then,  just  you  hear  a  word  or 
two  from  me.  I  an't  a  going  to  have  any  stories  made  for 
me,  and  I  aa't  a  going  to  stick  to  any.  If  I  find  matters 
going  again  me,  I  shall  expect  you  to  take  your  share,  and  I'll 
take  care  you  do.  You  never  said  anything  about  danger.  I 
never  bargained  for  being  brought  into  such  a  plight  as  this, 
and  I  don't  mean  to  take  it  as  quiet  as  you  think.  I  let  you 
lead  me  on,  from  one  thing  to  another,  because  we  had  been 
mixe  1  up  together  in  a  certain  sort  of  a  way,  and  if  you  had 
liked  to  be  ill-natured  you  might  perhaps  have  hurt  the  busi- 
ness, and  if  you  liked  to  be  good-natured  you  might  throw  a 
good  deal  in  my  way.  Well ;  if  all  goes  right  now,  that's 
quite  correct,  and  I  don't  mind  it ;  but  if  anything  goes  wrong, 
then,  times  are  altered,  and  I  shall  just  say  and  do  whatever 
I  think  may  serve  me  most,  and  take  advice  from  nobody. 
My  moral  influence  with  them  lads,"  added  Mr.  Squeers,  with 
deeper  gravity,  "  is  a  tottering  to  its  basis.  The  images  of 
Mrs.  Squeers,  my  daughter,  and  my  son  Wackford,  all  short 
of  vittles,  is  perpetually  before  me  ;  every  other  consideration 
melts  away  and  vanishes,  in  front  of  these  ;  the  only  number 
in  all  arithmetic  that  I  know  of  as  a  husband  and  a  father,  is 
number  one,  under  this  here  most  fatal  go  !  " 

How  long  Mr.  Squeers  might  have  declaimed,  or  how 
stormy  a  discussion  his  declamation  might  have  led  to,  no- 
body knows.  Being  interrupted  at  this  point,  by  the  arrival 
of  the  coach  and  an  attendant  who  was  to  bear  him  company, 
he  perched  his  hat  with  great  dignity  on  the  top  of  the  hand- 
kerchief that  bound  his  head  ;  and,  thrusting  one  hand  in  his 
pocket,  and  taking  the  attendant's  arm  with  the  other,  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  led  forth. 

"  As  I  supposed  from  his  not  sending  ! "  thought  Ralph. 
"  This  fellow,  I  plainly  see  through  all  this  tipsy  fooling,  has 
made  up  his  mind  to  turn  upon  me.  I  am  so  beset  and 
hemmed  in,  that  they  are,  not  only  all  struck  with  fear,  but, 
like  the  beasts  in  the  fable,  have  their  fling  at  me  now,  though 
time  was,  and  no  longer  ago  than  yesterday  too,  when  they 
were  all  civility  and  compliance.  But  they  shall  not  move 
me.     I'll  not  give  way.     I  will  not  budge  one  inch  !  " 


774 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 


He  went  home,  and  was  glad  to  find  his  housekeeper 
complaining  of  illness  that  he  might  have  an  excuse  for  being 
alone  and  sending  her  away  to  where  she  lived  :  which  was 
hard  by.  Then,  he  sat  down  by  the  light  of  a  single  candle, 
and  began  to  think,  for  the  first  time,  on  all  that  had  taken 
place  that  day. 

He  had  neither  eaten  nor  drunk  since  last  night,  and,  in 
addition  to  the  anxiety  of  mind  he  had  undergone,  had  been 
travelling  about,  from  place  to  place  almost  incessantly,  for 
many  hours.  He  felt  sick  arid  exhausted,  but  could  taste  noth- 
ing save  a  glass  of  water,  and  continued  to  sit  with  his  head 
upon  his  hand  ;  not  resting  or  thinking,  but  laboriously  try- 
ing to  do  both,  and  feeling  that  every  sense  but  one  of  weari-  _ 
ness  and  desolation,  was  for  the  time  benumbed. 

It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  he  heard  a  knocking  at  the 
door,  and  still  sat  quiet  as  before,  as  if  he  could  not  even 
bring  his  thoughts  to  bear  upon  that.  It  had  been  often  re- 
peated, and  he  had,  several  times,  heard  a  voice  outside,  say- 
ing there  was  a  light  in  the  window  (meaning,  as  he  knew,  his 
own  candle),  before  he  could  rouse  himself  and  go  down 
stairs. 

"  Mr.  Nickleby,  there  is  terrible  news  for  you,  and  I  am 
sent  to  beg  you  will  come  with  me  directly,"  said  a  voice  he 
seemed  to  recognize.  He  held  his  hand  above  his  eyes,  and, 
looking  out,  saw  Tim  Linkinwater  on  the  steps. 

"  Come  where  .''  "  demanded  Ralph. 

"  To  our  house,  where  you  came  this  morning.  I  have  a 
coach  here." 

"  Why  should  I  come  there  ?  "  said  Ralph. 

"  Don't  ask  me  why,  but  pray  come  with  me." 

"  Another  edition  of  to-day  !  "  returned  Ralph,  making  as 
though  he  would  shut  the  door. 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Tim,  catching  him  by  the  arm  and  speak- 
ing most  earnestly  ;  "  it  is  only  that  you  may  hear  something 
that  has  occurred  :  something  very  dreadful,  Mr.  Nickleby, 
which  concerns  you  nearly.  Do  you  think  I  would  tell  you 
so,  or  come  to  you  like  this,  if  it  were  not  the  case  ?  " 

Ralph  looked  at  him  more  closely.  Seeing  that  he  was 
indeed  greatly  excited,  he  faltered,  and  could  not  tell  what  to 
say  or  think. 

"  You  had  better  hear  this,  now,  than  at  any  other  time," 
said  Tim,  "  it  may  have  some  influence  with  you.  For  Heav- 
en's sake  come  ! " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  775 

Perhaps,  at  another  time,  Ralph's  obstinacy  and  dislil<e. 
would  have  been  proof  against  any  appeal  from  such  a  quar- 
ter, however  emphatically  urged ;  but  now,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  he  went  into  the  hall  for  his  hat,  and  returning, 
got  into  the  coach  without  speaking  a  word. 

Tim  well  remembered  afterwards,  and  often  said,  that  as 
Ralph  Nickleby  went  into  the  house  for  this  purpose,  he  saw 
him,  by  the  light  of  the  candle  which  he  had  set  down  upon  a 
chair,  reel  and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man.  He  well  remem- 
bered, ~too7TTiat\vhen"he"tnni  placed  his  foot  upon  the  coach- 
steps,  he  turned  round  and  looked  upon  him  with  a  face  so 
_asli^_.pale  and  so  very  wild  and  vacant  that  it  made  him 
shudder,  and  for  the  moment  almost  afraid  to  follow.  People 
were  fond  of  saying  that  he  had  some  dark  presentiment  upon 
him  then,  but  his  emotion  might,  perhaps,  with  greater  show 
of  reason,  be  referred  to  what  he  had  undergone  that  day. 

A  profound  silence  was  observed  during  the  ride.  Arrived 
at  their  place  of  destination,  Ralph  followed  his  conductor 
into  the  house,  and  into  a  room  where  the  two  brothers  were. 
He  was  so  astounded,  not  to  say  awed,  by  something  of  a 
mute  compassion  for  himself  which  was  visible  in  their  manner 
and  in  that  of  the  old  clerk,  that  he  could  scarcely  speak. 

Having  taken  a  seat,  however,  he  contrived  to  say,  though 
in  broken  words,  "  What — what  have  you  to  say  to  me — more 
than  has  been  said  already  t  " 

The  room  w^as  old  and  large,  very^  imperfectly  lighted,  and 
terminated  in  a  bay  window  :  about  which,  hung  some  heavy 
drapery.  Casting  his  eyes  in  this  direction,  as  he  spoke,  he 
thought  he  made  out  the  dusky  figure  of  a  man.  He  was  con- 
firmed in  this  impression  by  seeing  that  the  object  moved,  as 
if  uneasy  under  his  scrutiny. 

"  Who's  that  yonder  ?  "  he  said. 

"  One  who  has  conveyed  to  us,  within  these  tvvo  hours, 
the  intelligence  which  caused  our  sending  to  you,"  replied 
brother  Charles.  "  Let  him  be,  sir,  let  him  be  for  the  pres- 
ent." 

"  More  riddles  !  "  said  Ralph,  faintly.     "  Well,  sir  ?  " 

In  turning  his  face  towards  the  brothers  he  was  obliged  to 
avert  it  from  the  window  ;  but,  before  either  of  them  could 
speak,  he  had  looked  round  again.  It  was  e\ident  that  he  was 
rendered  restless  and  uncomfortable  by  the  presence  of  the  un- 
seen  person  ;  for  he  repeated  this  action  several  times,  and  at 
length,  as  if  in  a  nervous  state  which  rendered  him  positively 


776 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


unable  to  turn  away  from  the  place,  sat  so  as  to  have  it 
opposite  him,  muttering  as  an  excuse  that  he  could  not  bear 
the  light. 

The  brothers  conferred  apart  for  a  short  time  :  their  man- 
ner showing  that  they  were  agitated.  Ralph  glanced  at  them, 
twice  or  thrice,  and  ultimately  said,  with  a  great  effort  to  re- 
cover his  self-possession,  "  Now,  what  is  this  ?  If  I  am  brought 
from  home  at  this  time  of  night,  let  it  be  for  something. 
What  have  you  got  to  tell  me  ?  "  After  a  short  pause,  he 
added,  "  Is  my  niece  dead  1  " 

He  had  struck  upon  a  key  which  rendered  the  task  of 
commencement  an  easier  one.  Brother  Charles  turned,  and 
said  that  it  was  a  death  of  which  they  had  to  tell  him,  but 
that  his  niece  was  well. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  Ralph,  as  his  eyes 
brightened,  "  that  her  brother's  dead.  No,  that's  too  good. 
I'd  not  believe  it,  if  you  told  me  so.  It"woaMbe  too  welcome 
news  to  be  true." 

""""  "Shame  on  you,  you  hardened  and  unnatural  man,"  cried 
the  other  brother,  warmly  ;  "  prepare  yourself  for  intelligence, 
which,  if  you  have  any  human  feeling  in  your  breast,  will  make 
even  you  shrink  and  tremble.  What  if  we  tell  you  that  a 
poor  unfortunate  boy :  a  child  in  everything  but  never  having 
known  one  of  those  tender  endearments,  or  one  of  those  light- 
some hours  which  made  our  childhood  a  time  to  be  remem- 
bered like  a  happy  dream  through  all  our  after  life  :  a  warm- 
hearted, harmless,  affectionate  creature,  who  never  offended 
you,  or  did  you  wrong,  but  on  whom  you  have  vented  the 
malice  and  hatred  you  have  conceived  for  your  nephew,  and 
whom  you  have  made  an  instrument  for  Avreaking  your  bad 
passions  upon  him  :  what  if  we  tell  you  that,  sinking  under 
your  persecution,  sir,  and  the  misery  and  ill-usage  of  a  life 
short  in  years  but  long  in  suffering,  this  poor  creature  has 
gone  to  tell  his  sad  tale  where,  for  your  part  in  it,  you  must 
surely  answer  ?  " 

"  If  you  tell  me,"  said  Ralph  ;  "  if  you  tell  me  that  he  is 
dead,  I  forgive  you  all  else.  If  you  tell  me  that  he  is  dead,  I 
am  in  your  debt  and  bound  to  you  for  life.  He  is  !  I  see  it 
in  your  faces.  Who  triumphs  now  ?  Is  this  your  dreadful 
news,  this  your  terrible  intelligence .''  You  see  how  it  moves 
me.  You  did  well  to  send.  1  would  have  travelled  a  hundred 
miles  a-foot,  through  mud,  mire,  and  darkness,  to  hear  this 
news  just  at  this  time." 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


777 


Even  then,  moved  as  he  was  by  this  savage  joy,  Ralph 
could  see  in  the  faces  of  the  two  brothers,  mingling  with  their 
look  of  disgust  and  horror,  something  of  that  indefinable  com- 
passion for  himself  which  he  had  noticed  before. 

"And  he  brought  you  the  intelligence,  did  he?"  said 
Ralph,  pointing  with  his  finger  towards  the  recess  already 
mentioned  ;  "  and  sat  there,  no  doubt,  to  see  me  prostrated 
and  overwhelmed  by  it !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  But  I  tell  him  that  I'll 
be  a  sharp  thorn  in  his  side  for  many  a  long  day  to  come  ; 
and  I  tell  you  two,  again,  that  you  don't  know  him  yet  ;  and 
that  you'll  rue  the  day  you  took  compassion  on  the  vagabond." 

"You  take  me  for  your  nephew,"  said  a  hollow  voice; 
"  it  would  be  better  for  you  and  for  me  too,  if  I  were  he  in- 
deed." 

The  figure  that  he  had  seen  so  dimly,  rose,  and  came 
slowly  down.  He  started  back,  for  he  found  that  he  confron- 
ted— not  Nicholas,  as  he  had  supposed,  but  Brooker. 

Ralph  had  no  reason,  that  he  knew,  to  fear  this  man  ;  he 
had  never  feared  him  before  ;  but  the  pallor  which  had  been 
observed  in  his  face  when  he  issued  forth  that  night,  came 
upon  him  again.  He  was  seen  to  tremble,  and  his  voice 
changed  as  he  said,  keeping  his  eyes  upon  him, 

"  What  does  this  fellow  here  .-'  Do  you  know  he  is  a 
convict,  a  felon,  a  common  thief  !  " 

"  Hear  what  he  has  to  tell  you.  Oh,  Mr.  Nickleby,  hear 
what  he  has  to  tell  you,  be  he  what  he  may  !  "  cried  the 
brothers,  with  such  emphatic  earnestness,  that  Ralph  turned 
to  them  in  wonder.  They  pointed  to  Brooker.  Ralph  again 
gazed  at  him  :  as  it  seemed  mechanically. 

"  That  boy,"  said  the  man,  "that  these  gentlemen  have 
been  talking  of —  " 

"  That  boy,"  repeated  Ralph  looking  vacantly  at  him. 

"  Whom  I  saw,  stretched  dead  and  cold  upon  his  bed,  and 
who  is  now  in  his  grave " 

"Who  is  now  in  his  grave,"  echoed  Ralph,  like  one  who 
talks  in  his  sleep. 

The  man  raised  his  eyes,  and  clasped  his  hands  solemnly 
together  : 

" Was  your  only  son,  so  help  me  God  in  heaven  !  "  " 

In  the  midst  of  a  dead  silence,  Ralph  sat  down,  pressing 
his  two  hands  upon  his  temples.  He  removed  them,  after  a 
minute,  and  never  was  there  seen,  part  of  a  living  man  undis- 
figured  by  any  wound,  such  a  ghastly  face  as  he  then  disclosed. 


778  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

He  looked  at  Brooker,  who  was  by  this  time  standing  at  a  short 
distance  from  him  ;  but  did  not  say  one  word,  or  make  the 
slightest  sound  or  gesture. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  man,  "  I  offer  no  excuses  for  my- 
self. I  am  long  past  that.  If,  in  telling  you  how  this  has 
happened,  I  tell  you  that  I  was  harshly  used  and  perhaps 
driven  out  of  my  real  nature,  I  do  it,  only  as  a  necessary  part 
of  my  story,  and  not  to  shield  myself.     I  am  a  guilty  man." 

He  stopped,  as  if  to  recollect,  and  looking  away  from 
Ralph,  and  addressing  himself  to  the  brothers,  proceeded  in 
a  subdued  and  humble  tone  : 

"  Among  those  who  once  had  dealings  with  this  man,  gen- 
tlemen— that's  from  twenty  to  five-and-twenty  \'ears  ago,  there 
was  one  :  a  rough  fox-hunting,  hard  drinking  gentleman,  who 
had  run  through  his  own  fortune,  and  wanted  to  squander 
away  that  of  his  sister ;  they  were  both  orphans,  and  she 
lived  with  him  and  managed  his  house.  I  don't  know  whether 
it  was,  originally,  to  back  his  influence  and  try  to  over-per- 
suade the  young  woman  or  not,  but  he,"  pointing  to  Ralph, 
"  used  to  go  down  to  the  house  in  Leicestershire  pretty  often, 
and  stop  there  many  days  at  a  time.  They  had  had  a  great 
many  dealings  together,  and  he  may  have  gone,  on  some  of 
those,  or  to  patch  up  his  client's  affairs,  which  were  in  a  ruin- 
ous state  ;  of  course  he  went  for  profit.  The  gentlewoman 
was  not  a  girl,  but  she  was,  I  have  heard  say,  handsome,  and 
entitled  to  a  pretty  large  property.  In  course  of  time,  he 
married  her.  The  same  love  of  gain  which  led  him  to  contract 
this  marriage,  led  to  its  being  kept  strictly  private  ;  for  a 
clause  in  her  father's  will  declared  that  if  she  married  without 
her  brother's  consent,  the  property,  in  which  she  had  only  some 
life  interest  while  she  remained  single,  should  pass  away  alto- 
gether to  another  branch  of  the  family.  The  brother  would 
give  no  consent  that  the  sister  didn't  buy,  and  pay  for  hand- 
somely ;  Mr.  Nickleby  would  consent  to  no  such  sacrifice  ;  and 
so,  they  went  on  keeping  their  marriage  secret,  and  waiting 
for  the  brother  to  break  his  neck  or  die  of  a  fever.  He  did 
neither,  and  meanwhile  the  result  of  this  private  marriage  was 
f  a  son.  The  child  was  put  out  to  nurse,  a  long  way  off ;  his 
I  mother  never  saw  him  but  once  or  twice  and  then  by  stealth  ; 
I  and  his  father — so  eagerly  did  he  thirst  after  the  money  which 
j  seemed  to  come  almost  within  his  grasp  now,  for  his  brother- 
j  in-law  was  very  ill,  and  breaking  more  and  more  every  day — 
/^ever  went  near  him,  to  avoid  raising  suspicion.     The  brother 


*•• 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  779 

lingered  on;  Mr.  Nickleby's  wife  constantly  urged  him  to 
avow  their  marriage  ;  he  peremptorily  refused.  She  remained 
alone  in  a  dull  country  house  :  seeing  litde  or  no  company  but 
riotous,  drunken  sportsmen.  He  lived  in  London  and  clung 
to  his  business.  Angry  quarrels  and  recriminations  took 
place,  and  when  they  had  been  married  nearly  seven  years, 
and  were  within  a  few  weeks  of  the  time  when  the  brother's 
death  would  have  adjusted  all,  she  eloped  with  a  younger  man, 
and  left  him." 

Here  he  paused,  but  Ralph  did  not  stir,  and  the  brothers 
signed  to  him  to  proceed. 

"  It  was  then  that  I  became  acquainted  with  these  circum- 
stances from  his  own  lips.  They  were  no  secrets  then  ;  for 
the  brother,  and  others,  knew  them  ;  but  they  were  communi- 
cated to  me,  not  on  this  account,  but  because  I  was  wanted. 
He  followed  the  fugitives.  Some  said,  to  make  money  of  his 
wife's  shame,  but,  I  believe,  to  take  some  violent  revenge,  for 
that  was  as  much  his  character  as  the  other ;  perhaps  more. 
He  didn't  find  them,  and  she  died  not  long  after.  I  don't 
know  whether  he  began  to  think  he  might  like  the  child,  or 
whether  he  wished  to  make  sure  that  it  should  never  fall  into 
its  mother's  hands  ;  but  before  he  went,  he  entrusted  me 
with  the  charge  of  bringing  it  home.     And  I  did  so." 

He  went  on,  from  this  point,  in  a  still  more  humble  tone, 
and  spoke  in  a  very  low  voice  ;  pointing  to  Ralph  as  he  re- 
sumed. 

"  He  had  used  me  ill — cruelly — I  reminded  him  in  what, 
not  long  ago  when  I  met  him  in  the  street — and  I  hated  him. 
I  brought  the  child  home  to  his  own  house  and  lodged  him  in 
the  front  garret.  Neglect  had  made  him  very  sickly,  and  I 
was  obliged  to  call  in  a  doctor,  who  said  he  must  be  removed 
for  change  of  air,  or  he  would  die.  I  think  that  first  put  it 
in  my  head.  I  did  it  then.  He  was  gone  six  weeks,  and 
when  he  came  back,  I  told  him — with  every  circumstance  well 
planned  and  proved  ;  nobody  could  have  suspected  me — that 
the  child  was  dead  and  buried.  Jtie,  might  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  some  intention  he  had  formed,  or  he  might  have 
had  some  natural  affection,  but  he  was  gric\ed  at  that,  and  I 
was  confirmed  in  mv  de-^ign  of  opening  up  the  secret  one  day, 
and^riiakThg  it  a  means  of  getting  money  from  him.  I  had  heard, 
like  most  other  meii,  of  Yorkshire  schools.  I  took  the  child 
to  one~kept  "by^ a  man*  named  Squeers,  and  left  it  there.  I 
gave  him  the  name  of   Smike.     Year  by  year,  I  paid  twenty 


780 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


pounds  a-year  for  him  for  six  years  :  never  breathing  the 
secret  all  the  time  :  for  I  had  left  his  father's  service  after 
more  hard  usage,  and  quarrelled  with  him  again.  I  was  sent 
away  from  this  country.  I  have  been  away  nearly  eight  years. 
Directly  I  came  home  again,  I  travelled  down  into  Yorkshire, 
and,  skulking  in  the  village  of  an  evening  time,  made  inquiries 
about  the  boys  at  the  school,  and  found  that  this  one,  whom 
I  had  placed'  there,  had  run  away  with  a  young  man  bearing 
the  name  of  his  own  father.  I  sought  his  father  out  in  Lon- 
don, and  hinting  at  what  I  could  tell  him,  tried  for  a  little 
money  to  support  life ;  but  he  repulsed  me  with  threats.  I 
then  found  out  his  clerk,  and,  going  on  from  little  to  little, 
and  showing  him  that  there  were  good  reasons  for  communi- 
cating with  me,  learnt  what  was  going  on  ;  and  it  was  I  who 
told  him  that  the  boy  was  no  son  of  the  man  who  claimed  to 
be  his  father.  All  this  time  I  had  never  seen  the  boy.  At 
length,  I  heard  from  this  same  source  that  he  was  very  ill, 
and  where  he  was.  I  travelled  down  there,  that  I  might 
recall  myself,  if  possible,  to  his  recollection  and  confirm  my 
stor)\  I  came  upon  him  unexpectedly  ;  but  before  I  could 
speak  he  knew  me  (he  had  good  cause  to  remember  me,  poor 
lad  !)  and  I  would  have  sworn  to  him  if  I  had  met  him  in  the 
Indies.  I  knew  the  piteous  face  I  had  seen  in  the  little  child. 
After  a  few  days'  indecision,  I  applied  to  the  young  gentleman 
in  whose  care  he  was,  and  I  found  that  he  was  dead.  He 
knows  how  quickly  he  recognized  me  again,  how  often  he  had 
described  me  and  my  leaving  him  at  the  school,  and  how  he 
told  him  of  a  garret  he  recollected  :  which  is  the  one  I  have 
spoken  of,  and  in  his  father's  house  to  this  day.  This  is  my 
story.  I  demand  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with  the  school- 
master, and  put  to  any  possible  proof  of  any  part  of  it,  and  I 
will  show  that  it's  too  true,  and  that  I  have  this  guilt  upon 
my  soul." 

"  Unhappy  man  !  "  said  the  brothers.  "What  reparation 
can  you  make  for  this  ?  " 

"  None,  gentlemen,  none !  I  have  none  to  make,  and 
nothing  to  hope  now.  I  am  old  in  years,  and  older  still  in 
misery  and  care.  This  confession  can  bring  nothing  upon  me 
but  new  suffering  and  punishment  \  but  I  make  it,  and  will 
abide  by  it  whatever  comes.  I  have  been  made  the  instru- 
ment of  working  out  this  dreadful  retribution  upon  the  head 
of  a  man  who,  in  the  hot  pursuit  of  his  bad  ends,  has  perse- 
cuted and  hunted  down  his  own  child  to  death.     It  must  de- 


NICHOLAS  iVICKLEB  V.  78 1 

scend  upon  me  too.  I  know  it  must  fall.  My  reparation 
comes  too  late  ;  and,  neither  in  this  world  nor  in  the  next, 
can  I  have  hope  again  !  " 

He  had  hardly  spoken,  when  the  lamp  which  stood  upon 
the  table  close  to  where  Ralph  was  seated,  and  which  was  the 
only  one  in  the  room,  was  thrown  to  the  ground,  and  left  them 
in  darkness.  There  was  some  trifling  confusion  in  obtaining 
another  light  ;  the  interval  was  a  mere  nothing;  but  when  the 
light  appeared,  Ralph  Nickleby  was  gone. 

The  good  brothers  and  Tim  Linkinwater  occupied  some 
time  in  discussing  the  probability  of  his  return  ;  and  when  it 
became  apparent  that  he  would  not  come  back,  they  hesitated 
whether  or  no  to  send  after  him.  At  length,  remembering 
how  strangely  and  silently  he  had  sat  in  one  immovable  posi- 
tion during  the  interview,  and  thinking  he  might  possibly  be 
ill,  they  determined,  although  it  was  now  very  late,  to  send  to 
his  house  on  some  pretence.  Finding  an  excuse  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Brooker,  whom  they  knew  not  how  to  dispose  of 
without  consulting  his  washes,  they  concluded  to  act  upon 
this  resolution  before  going  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

WHEREIN     NICHOLAS     AND    HIS     SISTER      FORFEIT     THE     GOOD 
OPINION    OF    ALL    WORLDLY   AND    PRUDENT    PEOPLE. 

On  the  next  morning  after  Brooker's  disclosure  had  been 
made,  Nicholas  returned  home.  The  meeting  between  him 
and  those  whom  he  had  left  there,  was  not  without  strong 
emotion  on  both  sides  ;  for  they  had  been  informed  by  his 
letters  of  what  had  occurred  :  and,  besides  that  his  griefs  were 
theirs,  they  mourned  with  him  the  death  of  one  whose  forlorn 
and  helpless  state  had  first  established  a  claim  upon  their 
compassion,  and  whose  truth  of  heart  and  grateful  earnest 
nature  had,  every  day,  endeared  him  to  them  more  and  more. 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  wiping  her  eyes,  and 
sobbing  bitterly,  "  I  have  lost  the  best,  the  most  zealous,  and 
most  attentive  creature,  that  has  ever  been  a  companion  to 
me  in  my  life — putting  you,  my  dear  Nicholas,  and  Kate,  and 


782  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

r^our  poor  papa,  and  that  well-behaved  nurse  who  ran  away 
1  with  the  linen  and  twelve  small  forks,  out  of  the  question,  of 
/  course.  Of  all  the  tractable,  equal-tempered,  attached,  and 
faithful  beings  that  ever  lived,  I  believe  he  was  the  most  so. 
To  look  round  upon  the  garden,  now,  that  he  took  so  mupli 
pride  in,  or  to  go  into  his  room  and  see  it  filled  with  so  many 
of  those  little  contrivances  for  our  comfort  that  he  was  so 
fond  of  making,  and  made  so  well,  and  so  little  thought  he 
Avould  leave  unfinished — I  can't  bear  it,  I  cannot  really.  Ah  ! 
This  is  a  great  trial  to  me,  a  great  trial.  It  will  be  a  comfort 
to  you,  my  dear  Nicholas,  to  the  end  of  your  life,  to  recollect 
how  kind  and  good  you  always  were  to  him — so  it  will  be  to 
me,  to  think  what  excellent  terms  we  were  always  upon,  and 
how  fond  he  always  was  of  me,  poor  fellow  !  It  was  very 
natural  you  should  have  been  attached  to  him,  my  dear — very 
— and  of  course  you  were,  and  are  very  much  cut  up  by  this. 
I  am  sure  it's  only  necessary  to  look  at  you  and  see  how 
changed  you  are,  to  see  that ;  but  nobody  knows  what  my 
feelings  are — nobody  can — it's  quite  impossible  !  " 

While  Mrs.  Nickleby,  with  the  utmost  sincerity,  gave  vent 
to  her  sorrows  after  her  own  peculiar  fashion  of  considering 
herself  foremost,  she  was  not  the  only  one  who  indulged  such 
feelings.  Kate,  although  well  accustomed  to  forget  herself 
when  others  were  to  be  considered,  could  not  repress  her 
grief ;  Madeline  was  scarcely  less  moved  than  she  ;  and  poor, 
hearty,  honest,  little  Miss  La  Creevy,  who  had  come  upon 
one  of  her  visits  while  Nicholas  was  away,  and  had  done 
nothing,  since  the  sad  news  arrived,  but  console  and  cheer 
them  all,  no  sooner  beheld  him  coming  in  at  the  door,  than 
she  sat  herself  down  upon  the  stairs,  and  bursting  into  a  flood 
of  tears  refused  for  a  long  time  to  be  comforted. 

"  It  hurts  me  so,"  cried  the  poor  body,  "  to  see  him  come 
back  alone.  I  can't  help  thinking  what  he  must  have  suffered 
himself.  I  wouldn't  mind  so  much  if  he  gave  way  a  little 
more  ;  but  he  bears  it  so  manfullv." 

"  Why,  so  I  should,"  said  Nicholas,  "  should  I  not  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  little  woman,  "and  bless  you  for 
a  good  creature  !  but  this  does  seem  at  first  to  a  simple  soul 
like  me — I  know  it's  wrong  to  say  so,  and  I  shall  be  sorry  for 
it  presently — this  does  seem  such  a  poor  reward  for  all  you 
have  done." 

"  Nay,"  said  Nicholas  gently,  "  what  better  reward  could 
I  have,  than  the  knowledge  that  his   last  days  were  peaceful 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  783 

and  happy,  and  the  recollection  that  I  was  his  constant  com- 
panion, and  was  not  prevented,  as  I  might  have  been  by  a  hun- 
dred circumstances,  from  being  beside  him  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  sobbed  Miss  La  Creevy  ;  "it's  ver}- true, 
and  I'm  an  ungrateful,  impious,  wicked  little  fool,  I  know." 

With  that,  the  good  soul  fell  to  cr)ing  afresh,  and,  en- 
deavoring to  recover  herself,  tried  to  laugh.  The  laugh  and 
the  cry  meeting  each  other  thus  abruptly,  had  a  struggle  for 
the  mastery  ;  the  result  was,  that  it  was  a  drawn  battle,  and 
Miss  La  Creevy  went  into  hysterics. 

Waiting  until  they  were  all  tolerably  quiet  and  composed 
again,  Nicholas,  who  stood  in  need  of  some  rest  after  his  long 
journey,  retired  to  his  own  room,  and  throwing  himself,  dressed 
as  he  was,  upon  the  bed,  fell  into  a  sound  sleep.  When  he 
awoke,  he  found  Kale  sitting  by  his  bed-side,  who,  seeing 
that  he  had  opened  his  eyes,  stooped  down  to  kiss  him. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  home 
again." 

"  But  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Kate." 

"  We  have  been  wearying  so,  for  your  return,"  said  Kate, 
"  mama  and  I,  and — and  Madeline." 

"  You  said  in  your  last  letter  that  she  was  quite  well," 
said  Nicholas,  rather  hastily,  and  coloring  as  he  spoke. 
"  Has  nothing  been  said,  since  I  have  been  away,  about  any 
future  arrangements  that  the  brothers  have  in  contemplation 
for  her?" 

"  Oh,  not  a  word,"  replied  Kate,  "  I  can't  think  of  part- 
ing from  her  without  sorrow  ;  and  surely,  Nicholas,  you  don't 
wish  it  !  " 

Nicholas  colored  again,  and,  sitting  down  beside  his  sister 
on  a  little  couch  near  the  window,  said  : 

"  No,  Kate,  no,  I  do  not.  I  might  strive  to  disguise  my 
real  feelings  from  anvbody  but  you  ;  but  1  will  tell  you  that 
— briefly  and  plainly,  Kate — that  I  love  her." 

Kate's  eyes  brightened,  and  she  was  going  to  make  some 
reply,  when  Nicholas  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  and  went 
on  : 

"  Nobody  must  know  this  but  you.     She,  last  of  all." 

"  Dear  Nicholas  !  " 

"  Last  of  all ;  never,  though  never  is  a  long  day.  Some- 
times. Xxy  to  think  that  the  time  may  come  when  I  may  honestly 
tell  her  this  ;  but  it  is  so  far  off,  in  such  distant  perspective,  so 
many  years  must  elapse  before  it  comes,  and  when  it  does  come 


784 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


(if  ever)  I  shall  be  so  unlike  what  I  am  now,  and  shall  have  so 
outlived  my  days  of  youth  and  romance — though  not,  I  am  sure, 
of  love  for  her — that  even  1  feel  how  visionary  all  such  hopes 
must  be,  and  try  to  crush  them  rudely,  myself,  and  have  the 
pain  over,  rather  than  suffer  time  to  wither  them,  and  keep 
the  disappointment  in  store.  No,  Kate  !  Since  I  have  been 
absent,  1  have  had,  in  that  poor  fellow  who  is  gone,  perpetu- 
ally before  my  eyes,  another  instance  of  the  munificent  liber- 
ality of  these  noble  brothers.  As  far  as  in  me  lies,  I  will  de- 
serve it,  and  if  I  have  wavered  in  my  bounden  duty  to  them  be- 
fore, I  am  now  determined  to  discharge  it  rigidly,  and  to  put 
further  delays  and  temptations  beyond  my  reach." 

"  Before  you  say  another  word,  dear  Nicholas,"  said  Kate, 
turning  pale,  "you  must  hear' what  I  have  to  tell  you.  I 
came  oh  purpose,  but  I  had  not  the  courage.  What  you  say 
now  gives  me  new  heart."     She  faltered,  and  burst  into  tears. 

There  was  that,  in  her  manner,  which  prepared  Nicholas 
for  what  was  coming.  Kate  tried  to  speak,  but  her  tears  pre- 
vented her. 

"  Come  you  foolish  girl,"  said  Nicholas ;  "  why  Kate, 
Kate,  be  a  woman  !  I  think  I  know  what  you  would  tell  me. 
It  concerns  Mr.  Frank,  does  it  not .-' " 

Kate  sunk  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  and  sobbed  out 
"Yes." 

"  And  he  has  offered  you  his  hand,  perhaps  since  I  have 
been  away,"  said  Nicholas  ;  "  is  that  it  t  Yes.  Well,  well ; 
it's  not  so  difficult,  you  see,  to  tell  me,  after  all.  He  offered 
you  his  hand  .''  " 

"  Which  I  refused,"  said  Kate. 

"  Yes  ;  and  why  ?  " 

"  I  told  him,"  she  said,  in  a  trembling  voice,  "  all  that  I  have 
since  found  you  told  mama ;  and  while  I  could  not  conceal 
from  him,  and  cannot  from  you  that,  that  it  was  a  pang  and  a 
great  trial,  I  did  so,  firmly,  and  begged  him  not  to  see  me  any 


more." 


"  That's  my  own  brave  Kate  !  "  said  Nicholas,  pressing  her 
to  his  breast.     "  I  knew  you  would." 

"  He  tried  to  alter  my  resolution,"  said  Kate,  "and  de- 
clared that,  be  my  decision  what  it  might,  he  would  not  only 
inform  his  uncles  of  the  step  he  had  taken,  but  would  com- 
municate it  to  you  also,  directly  you  returned.  I  am  afraid," 
she  added  ;  her  momentary  composure  forsaking  her,  "  I  am 
afraid  I  may  not  have  said,  strongly  enough,  how  deeply  I  felt 


NICHOLAS  NJCKLEBY.  785 

such  disinterested  love,  and  how  earnestly  I  prayed  for  his 
future  happiness.  If  you  do  talk  together,  I  should — I  should 
like  him  to  know  that." 

"  And  did  you  suppose,  Kate,  when  you  had  made  this 
sacrifice  to  what  you  knew  was  right  and  honorable,  that  I 
should  shrink  from  mine  'i  "  said  Nicholas  tenderly. 

"  Oh,  no  !  not  if  your  position  had  been  the  same,  but — " 

"  But  it  is  the  same,"  interrupted  Nicholas  ;  "  Madeline  is 
not  the  near  relation  of  our  benefactors,  but  she  is  closely 
bound  to  them  by  ties  as  dear  ;  and  I  was  first  entrusted  with 
her  history,  specially  because  they  reposed  unbounded  confi- 
dence in  me,  and  believed  that  I  was  as  true  as  steel.  How 
base  would  it  be  of  me  to  take  advantage  of  the  circumstances 
which  placed  her  here,  or  of  the  slight  service  I  was  happily 
able  to  render  her,  and  to  seek  to  engage  her  affections  when 
the  result  must  be,  if  I  succeeded,  that  the  brothers  would  be 
disappointed  in  their  darling  wish  of  establishing  her  as  their 
own  child,  and  that  I  must  seem  to  hope  to  build  my  fortunes 
on  their  compassion  for  the  young  creature  whom  I  had  so 
meanly  and  unworthily  entrapped  :  turning  her  vtxy  gratitude 
and  warmth  of  heart  to  my  own  purpose  and  account,  and 
trading  in  her  misfortunes  !  I,  too,  whose  duty,  and  pride, 
and  pleasure,  Kate,  it  is,  to  have  other  claims  upon  me  which 
I  will  never  forget :  and  who  have  the  means  of  a  comfortable 
and  happy  life  already,  and  have  no  right  to  look  beyond  it ! 
I  have  determined  to  remove  this  weight  from  my  mind.  I 
doubt  whether  I  have  not  done  wrong,  even  now  \  and  to- 
day I  will  without  reserve  or  equivocation,  disclose  my  real 
reasons  to  Mr.  Cheeryble,  and  implore  him  to  take  immediate 
measures  for  removing  this  young  lady  to  the  shelter  of  some 
other  roof." 

"  To-day  ?  so  ver^'  soon  !  " 

*'  I  have  thought  of  this,  for  weeks,  and  why  should  I  post- 
pone it  ?  If  the  scene  through  which  I  have  just  passed,  has 
taught  me  to  reflect,  and  has  awakened  me  to  a  more  anxious 
and  careful  sense  of  duty,  why  should  I  wait  until  the  im- 
pression has  cooled  ?  You  would  not  dissuade  me  Kate  ;  now 
would  you  ?  " 

"  You  may  grow  rich,  you  know,"  said  Kate. 

"  I  may  grow  rich  !  "  repeated  Nicholas,  with  a  mournful 
smile,  "  ay,  and  I  may  grow  old  !  But  rich  or  poor,  or  old  or 
young,  we  shall  ever  be  the  same  to  each  other,  and  in  that 
our  comfort  lies.     What  if  we  have  but  one  home  ?     It  can 

50 


786  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY, 

never  be  a  solitary  one  to  you  and  me.     What  if  we  were  to 
remain  so  true  to  these  first  impressions  as  to  form  no  others  ? 
It  is  but  one  more  Unk  to  the  strong  chain  that  binds  us  together. 
It  seems  but  yesterday  that  we  were  playfellows,  Kate,  and  it 
will  seem  but  to-morrow  when  we  are  staid  old  people,  looking 
back  to  these  cares  as  we  lookback  now  to  those  of  our  child- 
ish days  :  and  recollecting  with  a  melancholy  pleasure  that 
the  time  was,  when  they  could  move  us.     Perhaps  then,  when 
we  are  quaint  old  folks  and  talk  of  the  times  when  our  step 
was  lighter  and  our  hair  not  gray,  we  may  be  even  thankful 
for  the  trials  that  "so  endeared  us  to  each  other,  and  turned 
jOur  lives  into  that  current,  down  which  we  shall  have  glided 
so  peacefully  and  calmly.     And  having  caught  some  inkling 
of  our  story,  the  young  people  about  us — as  young  as  you  and 
\I  are  now,  Kate — may  come  to  us  for  sympathy,  and  pour 
Mistresses  which   hope  and   inexperience  could  scarcely  feel 
^  enough  for,  into  the  compassionate  ears  of  the  old  bachelor 
\  brother  and  his  maiden  sister." 

Kate  smiled  through  her  tears,  as  Nicholas  drew  this  pic- 
ture ;  but  they  were  not  tears  of  sorrow,  although  they  con- 
tinued to  fall  when  he  had  ceased  to  speak. 

"  Am  I  not  right,  Kate  ?  "  he  said,  after  a  short  silence. 

"  Quite,  quite,  dear  brother ;  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
happy  I  am,  that  I  have  acted  as  you  would  have  had  me." 

"  You  don't  regret  ?  " 

"N — n — no,"  said  Kate  timidly,  tracing  some  pattern' 
upon  the  ground  with  her  little  foot.  "  I  don't  regret  having 
done  what  was  honorable  and  right,  of  course  ;  but  I  do 
regret  that  this  should  have  ever  happened — at  least  some- 
times I  regret  it,  and  sometimes  I — I  don't  know  what  I  say ; 
I  am  but  a  weak  girl,  Nicholas,  and  it  has  agitated  me  v^rj 
much." 

It  is  no  vaunt  to  affirm  that  if  Nicholas  had  had  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  at  the  minute,  he  would,  in  his  generous  affec- 
tion for  the  owner  of  the  blushing  cheek  and  downcast  eye, 
have  bestowed  its  utmost  farthing,  in  perfect  forgetfulness  of 
himself,  to  secure  her  happiness.  But  all  he  could  do  was  to 
comfort  and  console  her  by  kind  words  ;  and  words  they  were 
of  such  love  and  kindness,  and  cheerful  encouragement,  that 
poor  Kate  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  declared  she 
would  weep  no  more. 

"What  man,"  thought  Nicholas  proudly,  while  on  his  way, 
soon  afterwards,  to  the  brothers'  house,  "  would  not  be  suffi- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  787 

ciently  rewarded  for  any  sacrifice  of  fortune,  by  the  possession 
of  such  a  heart  as  Kate's,  which,  but  that  hearts  weigh   light, 

and  gold  and  silver  heavy,  is  beyond  all  praise  !     Frank  has 

money  and  wants  no  more.     Where  would  it  buy  him  such  a     / 
treasure  as  Kate  !     And  yet,  in  unequal  marriages,  the  rich    ( 
party  is  always  supposed  to  make  a  great  sacrifice,  and  the    / 
other  to  get    a   good  bargain  ?     But  I  am   thinking   like   a    j 
lover,  or  like  an  ass  :  which  I  suppose  is  pretty  nearly  the    I 
same."  J 

Checking  thoughts  so  little  adapted  to  the  business  on 
which  he  was  bound,  by  such  self-reproofs  as  this  and  many 
others  no  less  sturdy,  he  proceeded  on  his  way  and  presented 
himself  before  Tim  Linkinwater. 

"  Ah  !  Mr.  Nickleby  !  "  cried  Tim,  "  God  bless  you  !  How 
d'ye  do  !  Well  ?  Say  you're  quite  well  and  never'better.  Do 
now." 

"  Quite,"  said  Nicholas,  shaking  him  by  both  hands. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Tim,  "  you  look  tired  though,  now  I  come  to 
look  at  you.  Hark  !  there  he  is,  d'ye  hear  him  ?  That  was 
Dick,  the  blackbird.  He  hasn't  been  himself,  since  3'ou"ve 
been  gone.  He'd  never  get  on  without  you,  now  ;  he  takes 
as  naturally  to  you,  as  he  does  to  me." 

"  Dick  is  a  far  less  sagacious  fellow  than  I  supposed  him, 
if  he  thinks  I  am  half  so  well  worthy  of  his  notice  as  you," 
replied  Nicholas. 

"Why,  I'll  tell  you  what,  sir,"  said  Tim,  standing  in  his 
favorite  attitude  and  pointing  to  the  cage  with  the  feather  of 
his  pen,  "it's  a  ver}'  extraordinar}^  thing  about  that  bird,  that 
the  only  people  he  ever  takes  the  smallest  notice  of,  are  Mr. 
Charles,  and  Mr.  Ned,  and  you  and  me." 

Here,  Tim  stopped  and  glanced  anxiously  at  Nicholas  ; 
then  unexpectedly  catching  his  eyes  repeated,  "  And  you  and 
me,  sir,  and  you  and  me."  And  then  he  glanced  at  Nicholas 
again,  and  squeezing  his  hand,  said,  "  I  am  a  bad  one  at  put- 
ting: off  anvthins:  I  am  interested  in.  I  didn't  mean  to  ask 
you,  but  1  should  like  to  hear  a  few  particulars  about  that 
poor  boy.     Did  he  mention  Cheeryble  Brothers  at  all  t '' 

"  Yes,"  said  Nicholas,  "many  and  many  a  time." 

"  That  was  right  of  him,"  returned  Tim,  wiping  his  eyes  ; 
"  that  was  very  right  of  him." 

"  And  he  mentioned  your  name  a  score  of  times,"  said 
Nicholas,  "and  often  bade  me  carry  back  his  love  to  Mr. 
Linkinwater," 


788 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


"  No,  no,  did  he  though  ?  "  rejoined  Tim,  sobbing  outright 
"  Poor  fellow  !  "  I  wish  we  could  have  had  him  buried  in  town. 
There  isn't  such  a  burying-ground  in  all  London,  as  that  little 
one  on  the  other  side  of  the  square — there  are  counting-houses 
all  round  it,  and  if  you  go  in  there,  on  a  fine  day,  you  can  see 
the  books  and  safes  through  the  open  windows.  And  he  sent 
his  love  to  me,  did  he  ?  I  didn't  expect  he  would  have  thought 
of  me.     Poor  fellow,  poor  fellow  !     His  love  too  !  " 

Tim  was  so  completely  overcome  by  this  little  mark  of 
recollection,  that  he  was  quite  unequal  to  any  more  conversa- 
tion at  the  moment.  Nicholas  therefore  slipped  quietly  out, 
and  went  to  brother  Charles's  room. 

If  he  had  previously  sustained  his  firmness  and  fortitude, 
it  had  been  by  an  effort  which  had  cost  him  no  little  pain  ; 
but  the  warm  welcome,  the  hearty  manner,  the  homely  unaf- 
fected commiseration,  of  the  good  old  man,  went  to  his  heart, 
and  no  inward  struggle  could  prevent  his  showing  it. 

"  Come,  come,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  benevolent  merchant ; 
"  we  must  not  be  cast  down  ;  no,  no.  We  must  learn  to  bear 
misfortune,  and  we  must  remember  that  there  are  many  sources 
of  consolation  even  in  death.  Ever}'  day  that  this  poor  lad  had 
lived,  he  must  have  been  less  and  less  qualified  for  the  world, 
and  more  and  more  unhappy  in  his  own  deficiencies.  It  is 
better  as  it  is,  my  dear  sir.     Yes,  yes,  yes,  it's  better  as  it  is.'' 

"  I  have  thought  of  all  that,  sir,"  replied  Nicholas,  clear- 
ing his  throat.     "  I  feel  it,  I  assure  you." 

"  Yes,  that's  well,"  replied  Mr.  Cheeryble,  who,  in  the 
midst  of  all  his  comforting,  was  quite  as  much  taken  aback  as 
honest  old  Tim;  "that's  well.  Where  is  my  brother  Ned  .^ 
Tim  Linkinwater,  sir,  where  is  my  brother  Ned  ? " 

"  Gone  out  with  Mr.  Trimmers,  about  getting  that  unfor- 
tunate man  into  the  hospital,  and  sending  a  nurse  to  his  chil- 
dren," said  Tim. 

"  My  brother  Ned  is  a  fine  fellow,  a  great  fellow !  "  ex- 
claimed brother  Charles  as  he  shut  the  door  and  returned  to 
Nicholas.  "  He  will  be  overjoyed  to  see  you,  my  dear  sir. 
We  have  been  speaking  of  you  every  day." 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  sir,  I  am  glad  to  find  you  alone," 
said  Nicholas,  with  some  natural  hesitation  ;  "  for  I  am  anxious 
to  say  something  to  you.  Can  you  spare  me  a  very  few  min- 
utes }  " 

"  Surely,  surely,"  returned  brother  Charles,  looking  at  him 
with  an  anxious  countenance.     "  Say  on,  my  dear  sir,  say  on," 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  789 

"  I  scarcely  know  how,  or  where  to  begin,"  said  Nicholas. 
"  If  ever  one  mortal  had  reason  to  be  penetrated  with  love 
and  reverence  for  another :  with  such  attachment  as  would 
make  the  hardest  service  in  his  behalf  a  pleasure  and  delight . 
with  such  grateful  recollections  as  must  rouse  the  utmost  zeal 
and  fidelity  of  his  nature  :  those  are  the  feelings  which  I 
should  entertain  for  you,  and  do,  from  my  heart  and  soul,  be- 
lieve me  ! " 

"  I  do  believe  you,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  "  and  I 
am  happy  in  the  belief.  I  have  never  doubted  it ;  I  never 
shall.     I  am  sure  I  never  shall." 

"  Your  telling  me  that,  so  kindly,"  said  Nicholas,  "  em- 
boldens me  to  proceed.  When  you  first  took  me  into  your 
confidence,  and  despatched  me  on  those  missions  to  Miss 
Bray,  I  should  have  told  you  that  I  had  seen  her,  long  before  ; 
that  her  beauty  had  made  an  impression  upon  me  which  I 
could  not  efface  ;  and  that  I  had  fruitlessly  endeavored  to 
trace  her,  and  become  acquainted  with  her  history.  I  did  not 
tell  you  so,  because  I  vainly  thought  I  could  conquer  my 
weaker  feelings,  and  render  every  consideration  subservient  to 
my  duty  to  you." 

"Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  brother  Charles,  "you  did  not  vio- 
late the  confidence  I  placed  in  you,  or  take  an  unworthy  ad- 
vantage of  it.     I  am  sure  you  did  not." 

"I  did  not,"  said  Nicholas  firmly.  "Although  I  found 
that  the  necessity  for  self-command  and  restraint  became  every 
day  more  imperious,  and  the  difficulty  greater,  I  never  for  one 
instant  spoke  or  looked  but  as  I  would  have  done  had  you 
been  by.  I  never  for  one  moment  deserted  my  trust,  nor  have 
I  to  this  time.  But  I  find  that  constant  association  and  com- 
panionship with  this  sweet  girl  is  fatal  to  my  peace  of  mind, 
and  may  prove  destructive  to  the  resolutions  I  made  in  the 
beginning  and  up  to  this  time  have  faithfully  kept.  In  short, 
sir,  I  cannot  trust  myself,  and  I  implore  and  beseech  you  to 
remove  this  young  lady  from  under  the  charge  of  my  mother 
and  sister,  without  delay.  I  know  that  to  anyone  but  myself 
— to  you,  who  consider  the  immeasurable  distance  between 
me  and  this  young  lady,  who  is  now  your  ward,  and  the  object 
of  your  peculiar  care — my  loving  her,  even  in  thought,  must 
appear  the  height  of  rashness  and  presumption.  I  know  it  is 
so.  But,  who  can  see  her  as  I  have  seen,  who  can  know  what 
her  life  has  been,  and  not  love  her?  I  have  no  excuse  but 
that ;  and  as  I  cannot  fly  from  this  temptation,  and  cannot 


ygo  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

repress  this  passion  with  its  object  constantly  before  me,  what 
can  I  do  but  pray  you  to  remove  it,  and  to  leave  me  to  forget 
her !  " 

"  Mr.  Nickleby,"  said  the  old  man,  after  a  short  silence, 
"  you  can  do  no  more.  I  was  wrong  to  expose  a  young  man 
like  you,  to  this  trial.  I  might  have  foreseen  what  would  hap- 
pen. Thank  you  sir,  thank  you.  Madeline  shall  be  re- 
moved." 

"  If  you  would  grant  me  one  favor,  dear  sir,  and  suffer  her 
to  remember  me  with  esteem,  by  never  revealing  to  her  this 
confession — " 

"  I  will  take  care,"  said  Mr.  Cheeryble.  "  And  now,  is 
this  all  you  have  to  tell  me  ?" 

"No!"  returned   Nicholas,  meeting  his  eye,  "it  is  not." 

"  I  know  the  rest,"  said  Mr.  Cheeryble,  apparently  very 
much  relieved  by  this  prompt  reply.  "  When  did  it  come  to 
your  knowledge  ?  " 

"  When  I  reached  home  this  morning." 

"  You  felt  it  3'our  duty  immediately  to  come  to  me,  and 
tell  me  what  your  sister  no  doubt  acquainted  you  with  ?  " 

"I  did,"  said  Nicholas,  "though  I  could  have  wished  to 
have  spoken  to  Mr.  Frank  first." 

"  Frank  was  with  me  last  night,"  replied  the  old  gentle- 
ma.  "  You  have  done  well,  Mr.  Nickleby — very  well,  sir — 
and  I  thank  you  again." 

Upon  this  head,  Nicholas  requested  permission  to  add  a 
few  words.  He  ventured  to  hope  that  nothing  he  had  said, 
would  lead  to  the  estrangement  of  Kate  and  Madeline,  who 
had  formed  an  attachment  for  each  other,  any  interruption  of 
which,  would,  he  knew,  be  attended  with  great  pain  to  them, 
and,  most  of  all,  with  remorse  and  pain  to  him  as  its  unhappy 
cause.  When  these  things  were  all  forgotten,  he  hoped  that 
Frank  and  he  might  still  be  warm  friends,  and  that  no  word  or 
thought  of  his  humble  home,  or  of  her  who  was  well  contented 
to  remain  there  and  share  his  quiet  fortunes,  would  ever  again 
disturb  the  harmony  between  them.  He  recounted  as  nearly 
as  he  could,  what  passed  between  himself  and  Kate  that 
morning  :  speaking  of  her  with  such  warmth  of  pride  and  af- 
fection, and  dwelling  so  cheerfully  upon  the  confidence  they 
had  of  overcoming  any  selfish  regrets  and  living  contented 
and  happy  in  each  other's  love,  that  few  could  have  heard 
him  unmoved.  More  moved  himself  than  he  had  been  yet,  he 
expressed  m  a  few  hurried  words — as  expressive,  perhaps,  as 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  7  g  x 

the  most  eloquent  phrases — his  devotion  to  the  brothers,  and 
his  hope  that  he  might  live  and  die  in  their  service. 

To  all  this  broUier  Charles  listened  in  profound  silence, 
and  with  his  chair  so  turned  from  Nicholas  that  his  face  could 
not  be  seen.  He  had  not  spoken  either,  in  his  accustomed 
manner,  but  with  a  certain  stiffness  and  embarrassment  very 
foreign  to  it.  Nicholas  feared  he  had  offended  him.  He 
said,  "  No,  no,  he  had  done  quite  right ;"  but  that  was  all. 

"  Frank  is  a  heedless,  foolish  fellow,"  he  said,  after  Nich- 
olas had  paused  for  some  time  ;  "  a  very  heedless,  foolish 
fellow.  I  will  take  care  that  this  is  brought  to  a  close  with- 
out delay.  Let  us  say  no  more  upon  the  subject ;  it's  a  very 
painful  one  to  me.  Come  to  me  in  half  an  hour.  I  have 
strange  things  to  tell  you,  my  dear  sir,  and  your  uncle  has  ap- 
pointed this  afternoon  for  your  waiting  upon  him  with  me." 

"  Waiting  upon  him  !     With  you,  sir  !  "  cried  Nicholas. 

"  Ay,  with  me,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "  Return  to 
me  in  half  an  hour,  and  I'll  tell  you  more." 

Nicholas  waited  upon  him  at  the  time  mentioned,  and 
then  learnt  all  that  had  taken  place  on  the  previous  day,  and 
all  that  was  known  of  the  appointment  Ralph  had  made  with 
the  brothers  ;  which  was  for  that  night ;  and  for  the  better 
understanding  of  which  it  will  be  requisite  to  return  and 
follow  Ralph's  own  footsteps  from  the  house  of  the  twin 
brothers.  Therefore,  we  leave  Nicholas  somewhat  reassured 
by  the  restored  kindness  of  their  manner  towards  him,  and 
yet  sensible  that  it  was  different  from  what  it  had  been 
(though  he  scarcely  knew  in  what  respect) :  so  he  was  full  of 
uneasiness,  uncertainty,  and  disquiet. 


CHAPTER  LXn. 

RALPH    MAKES   ONE    LAST   APPOINTMENT AND    KEEPS    IT. 

Creeping  from  the  house,  and  slinking  off  like  a  thief ; 
groping  with  his  hands  when  first  he  got  into  the  street,  as  if 
he  were  a  blind  man  ;  and  looking  often  over  his  shoulder 
while  he  hurried  away,  as  though  he  were  followed  in  imagi- 
nation or  reality  by  some  one   anxious  to  question  or  detain 


7^2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

him  ;  Ralph  Nickleby  left  the  city  behind  him,  and  took  the 
road  to  his  own  home. 

The  night  was  dark,  and  a  cold  wind  blew,  driving  the 
clouds  furiously  and  fast  before  it.  There  was  one  black 
gloomy  mass  that  seemed  to  follow  him  :  not  hurrying  in  the 
wild  chase  with  the  others,  but  lingering  sullenly  behind,  and 
gliding  darkly  and  stealthily  on.  He  often  looked  back  at 
this,  and,  more  than  once,  stopped  to  let  it  pass  over  ;  but, 
somehow,  when  he  went  forward  again,  it  was  still  behind 
him,  coming  mournfully  and  slowly  up,  like  a  shadowy  funeral 
train. 

He  had  to  pass  a  poor,  mean  burial  ground — a  dismal 
place,  raised  a  few  feet  above  the  level  of  the  street,  and 
parted  from  it  by  a  low  parapet-wall  and  an  iron  railing ;  a 
rank,  unwholesome,  rotten  spot,  where  the  very  grass  and 
weeds  seemed,  in  their  frowsy  growth,  to  tell  that  they  had 
sprung  from  paupers'  bodies,  and  had  struck  their  roots  in 
the  graves  of  men,  sodden,  while  alive,  in  steaming  courts 
and  drunken  hungry  dens.  And  here,  in  truth,  they  lay, 
parted  from  the  living  by  a  little  earth  and  a  board  or  two — 
lay  thick  and  close — corrupting  in  body  as  they  had  in  mind 
— a  dense  and  squalid  crowd.  Here  they  lay,  cheek  by  jowl 
with  life  :  no  deeper  down  than  the  feet  of  the  throng  that 
passed  there,  every  day,  and  piled  high  as  their  throats. 
Here  they  lay,  a  grisly  family  all  these  dear  departed  brothers 
and  sisters  of  the  ruddy  clergv'man  who  did  his  task  so  speedily 
w'hen  they  were  hidden  in  the  ground  ! 

As  he  passed  here,  Ralph  called  to  mind  that  he  had  been 
one  of  a  jury,  long  before,  on  the  body  of  a  man  who  had  cut 
his  throat  ;  and  that  the  man  was  buried  in  this  place.  He 
could  not  tell  how  he  came  to  recollect  it  now,  when  he  had 
so  often  passed  and  never  thought  about  him,  or  how  it  was 
that  he  felt  an  interest  in  the  circumstance  ;  but  he  did  both  ; 
and  stopping,  and  clasping  the  iron  railings  with  his  hands, 
looked  eagerly  in,  wondering  which  might  be  his  grave. 

While  he  was  thus  engaged,  there  came  towards  him, 
with  noise  of  shouts  and  singing,  some  fellows  full  of  drink, 
followed  by  others  who  were  remonstrating  with  them  and 
urging  them  to  go  home  in  quiet.  They  were  in  high  good- 
humor  ;  and  one  of  them,  a  little,  weazen,  humped-backed 
man,  began  to  dance.  He  was  a  grotesque,  fantastic  figure, 
and  the  few  bystanders  laughed.  Ralph  himself  was  moved 
to  mirth,  and  echoed  the  laugh  of  one  who  stood   near  and 


NICHOLAS  mCKLEDY.  793 

who  looked  round  in  his  face.  When  they  had  passed  on, 
and  he  was  left  alone  again,  he  resumed  his  speculation  with 
a  new  kind  of  interest ;  for  he  recollected  that  the  last  person 
who  had  seen  the  suicide  alive,  had  left  him  very  merry,  and 
he  remembered  how  strange  he  and  the  other  jurors  had 
thought  that,  at  the  time. 

He  could  not  fix  upon  the  spot  among  such  a  heap  of 
graves,  but  he  conjured  up  a  strong  and  vivid  idea  of  the 
man  himself,  and  how  he  looked,  and  what  had  led  him  to  do 
it ;  all  of  which  he  recalled  with  ease.  By  dint  of  dwelling 
upon  this  theme,  he  carried  the  impression  with  him  when  he 
went  away  ;  as  he  remembered,  when  a  child,  to  have  had  fre- 
quently before  him  the  figure  of  some  goblin  he  had  once  seen 
chalked  upon  a  door.  Rut  as  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer 
home  he  forgot  it  agajn,  and  he.CTan  to  think  how  very  dull  and 
solitary  the  hmi'^e  would  \>^-  inside. 

This  feeling  became  so  strong  at  last,  that  when  he  reached 
his  own  door,  he  could  hardly  make  up  his  mind  to  turn  the 
key  and  open  it.  When  he  had  done  that,  and  gone  into  the 
passage,  he  felt  as  though  to  shut  it  again  would  be  to  shut 
out  the  world.  But  he  let  it  go,  and  it  closed  with  a  loud 
noise.  There  was  no  light.  How  very  dreaiy,  cold,  and  still 
it  was  ! 

Shivering  from  head  to  foot  he  made  his  way  up  stairs 
into  the  room  where  he  had  been  last  disturbed.  He  had 
made  a  kind  of  compact  with  himself  that  he  would  not  think 
of  what  had  happened,  until  he  got  home.  He  was  at  home 
now,  and  suffered  himself  to  consider  it. 

His  own  child,  his  own  child  !  He  never  doubted  the 
tale  ;  he  felt  it  was  true  ;  knew  it  as  well,  now,  as  if  he  had 
been  privy  to  it  all  along.  His  own  child  !  And  dead  too. 
Dying  beside  Nicholas,  loving  him,  and  looking  upon  him  as 
something  like  an  angel  !     That  was  the  worst. 

They  had  all  turned  from  him  and  deserted  him  in  his 
very  first  need.  Even  money  could  not  buy  them  now  ;  every- 
thing must  come  out,  and  everybody  must  know  all.  Here 
was  the  young  lord  dead,  his  companion  abroad  and  beyond 
his  reach,  ten  thousand  pounds  gone  at  one  blow,  his  plot 
with  Gride  overset  at  the  moment  of  triumph,  his  after  schemes 
discovered,  himself  in  danger,  the  object  of  his  persecution 
and  Nicholas's  love,  his  own  wretched  boy  ;  everything 
crumbled  and  fallen  upon  him,  and  he  beaten  down  beneath 
the  ruins  and  grovelling  in  the  dust. 


794 


7  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


f 


If  he  had  known  his  child  to  be  alive ;  if  no  deceit  had 
been  ever  practised,  and  he  had  grown  up,  beneath  his  eye  ; 
he  might  have  been  a  careless,  indifferent,  rough,  harsh  father 
— like  enough — he  felt  that  ;  but  the  thought  would  come  that 
he  might  have  been  otherwise,  and  that  his  son  might  have 
been  a  comfort  to  him  and  they  two  happy  together.  He 
began  to  think  now,  that  his  supposed  death  and  his  wife's 
flight  had  had  some  share  in  making  him  the  morose,  hard 
man  he  was.  He  seemed  to  remember  a  time  when  he  was 
not  quite  so  rough  and  obdurate ;  and  almost  thought  that 
he  had  first  hated  Nicholas,  because  he  was  young  and  gallant, 
and  perhaps  like  the  stripling  Who  had  brought  dishonor  and 
loss  of  fortune  on  his  head. 

But  one  tender  thought,  or  one  of  natural  regret,  in  his 
whirlwind  of  passion  and  remorse,  was  as  a  drop  of  calm 
water  in  a  stormy  maddened  sea.  His  hatred  of  Nicholas 
had  been  fed  upon  his  own  defeat,  nourished  on  his  inter- 
ference with  his  schemes,  fattened  upon  his  old  defiance 
and  success.  There  were  reasons  for  its  increase  ;  it  had 
grown  and  strengthened  gradually.  Now,  it  attained  a  height 
which  was  sheer  wild  lunacy.  That  his,  of  all  others,  should 
have  been  the  hands  to  rescue  his  miserable  child  ;  that  he 
should  have  been  his  protector  and  faithful  friend  ;  that  he 
have  shown  him  that  love  and  tenderness  which,  from  the 
wretched  moment  of  his  birth,  he  had  never  known  ;  that 
he  should  have  taught  him  to  hate  his  own  parent  and  ex- 
ecrate his  very  name  ;  that  he  should  now  know  and  feel  all  this, 
and  triumph  in  the  recollection,  was  gall  and  madness  to  the 
usurer's  heart.  The  dead  boy's  love  for  Nicholas,  and  the  at- 
tachment of  Nicholas  to  him,  was  insupportable  agony.  The 
picture  of  his  death-bed,  with  Nicholas  at  his  side,  tending 
and  supporting  him,  and  he  breathing  out  his  thanks  and  ex- 
piring in  his  arms,  when  he  would  have  had  them  mortal  ene- 
mies and  hating  each  other  to  the  last,  drove  him  frantic.  He 
gnashed  his  teeth,  and  smote  the  air,  and  looking  wildly  round, 
with  eyes  which  gleamed  through  the  darkness,  cried  aloud : 

"  I  am  trampled  down  and  ruined.  The  wretch  told  me 
true.  The  night  has  come  !  Is  there  no  way  to  rob  them  of 
further  triumph,  and  spurn  their  mercy  and  compassion  >/  Is 
there  no  devil  to  help  me .'' '-'/ 

Swiftly,  there  glided  again  into  his  brain  the  figure  he  had 
raised  that  night.  It  seemed  to  lie  before  him.  The  head 
was  covered  now.     So  it  was  when  he  first  saw  it.     The  rigid 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


795 


upturned  marble  feet  too,  he  remembered  well.  Then  came 
before  him,  the  pale  and  trembling  relatives  who  had  told 
their  tale  upon  the  inquest — the  shrieks  of  women — the  silent 
dread  of  men — the  consternation  and  disquiet — the  victory 
achieved  by  that  heap  of  clay,  which,  with  one  motion  of  its 
hand,  had  let  out  the  life  and  made  this  stir  among  them 

He  spoke  no  more  ;  but,  after  a  pause,  softly  groped  his 
way  out  of  the  room,  and  up  the  echoing  stairs — up  to  the  top 
— to  the  front  garret — where  he  closed  the  door  behind  him, 
and  remained. 

It  was  a  mere  lumber-room  now,  but  it  yet  contained  an 
old  dismantled  bedstead  ;  the  one  on  which  his  son  had 
slept ;  for  no  other  had  ever  been  there.  He  avoided  it 
hastilv,  and  sat  down  as  far  from  it  as  he  could. 

The  weakened  glare  of  the  lights  in  the  street  below, 
shining  through  the  window  which  had  no  blind  or  curtain  to 
intercept  it,  was  enough  to  show  the  character  of  the  room, 
though  not  sufficient  fully  to  reveal  the  various  articles  of  lum- 
ber, old  corded  trunks  and  broken  furniture,  which  were  scat- 
tered about.  It  had  a  shelving  roof  ;  high  in  one  part,  and 
at  another  descending  almost  to  the  floor.  It  was  towards  the 
highest  part,  that  Ralph  directed  his  eyes  ;  and  upon  it  he 
kept  them  fixed  steadily  for  some  minutes.  Then  he  rose, 
and  dragging  thither  an  old  chest  upon  which  he  had  been 
seated,  mounted  on  it,  and  felt  along  the  wall  above  his  head 
with  both  hands.  At  length,  they  touched  a  large  iron  hook, 
firmly  driven  into  one  of  the  beams. 

At  that  moment,  he  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  knocking 
at  the  door  below.  After  a  little  hesitation  he  opened  the 
window,  and  demanded  who  it  was. 

"  I  want  Mr.  Nickleby,"  replied  a  voice. 

"What  with  him?" 

"  That's  not  Mr.  Nickleby's  voice  surely  ?  "  was  the  re- 
joinder. 

It  was  not  like  it ;  but  it  was  Ralph  who  spoke,  and  so  he  said. 

The  voice  made  answer  that  the  twin  Brothers  wished  to 
know  whether  the  man  whom  he  had  seen  that  ni^lht,  was  to 
be  detained  ;  and  that  although  it  was  now  midnight  they  had 
sent,  in  their  anxiety  to  do  right. 

"  Yes,"  cried  Ralph,  "  detain  him  till  to-morrow  ;  then  let 
them  bring  him  here — him  and  my  nephew — and  come  them- 
selves, and  be  sure  that  I  will  be  ready  to  receive  them." 

"  At  what  hour.?  "  asked  the  voice. 


796 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


"  At  any  hour,"  replied  Ralph  fiercely.  "  In  the  afternoon, 
tell  them.  At  any  hour,  at  any  minute.  All  times  will  be 
alike  to  me." 

He  listened  to  the  man's  retreating  footsteps,  until  the 
sound  had  passed,  and  then  gazing  up  into  the  sky,  saw,  or 
thought  he  saw  the  same  black  cloud  that  had  seemed  to  fol- 
low him  home,  and  which  now  appeared  to  hover  directly 
above  the  house. 

"  1  know  its  meaning  now,"  he  muttered,  "  and  the  rest- 
less nights,  the  dreams,  and  why  I  have  quailed  of  late.  All 
pointed  to  this.  Oh  !  if  men  by  selling  their  own  souls  could 
ride  rampant  for  a  term,  for  how  short  a  term  would  I  barter 
mine  to-night !  " 

The  sound  of  a  deep  bell  came  along  the  wind.     One. 

"  Lie  on  !  "  cried  the  usurer,  "  with  your  iron  tongue  !  Ring 
merrily  for  births  that  make  expectants  writhe,  and  for  mar- 
riages that  are  made  in  hell,  and  toll  ruefully  for  the  dead 
whose  shoes  are  worn  already  !  Call  men  to  prayers  who  are 
godly  because  not  found  out,  and  ring  chimes  for  the  coming  in 
of  every  year  that  brings  this  cursed  world  nearer  to  its  end. 
No  bell  or  book  for  me  !  Throw  me  on  a  dunghill,  and  let 
me  rot  there,  to  infect  the  air ! " 

With  a  wild  look  around,  in  which  frenzy,  hatred,  and 
despair,  were  horribly  mingled,  he  shook  his  clenched  hand 
at  the  sky  above  him,  which  was  still  dark  and  threatening, 
and  closed  the  window. 

The  rain  and  hail  pattered  against  the  glass  ;  the  chimneys 
quaked  and  rocked  ;  the  crazy  casement  rattled  with  the  wind, 
as   though  an  impatient  hand   inside  were  striving  to    burst 

it  open.     But  no  hand  was  there,  and  it  opened  no  more. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

"  How's  this  ?  "  cried  one.  The  gentlemen  say  they  can't 
make  anybody  hear,  and  have  been  trying  these  two  hours." 

*■  And  yet  lie  came  home  last  night,"  said  another  ;  "  for  he 
spoke  to  somebody  out  of  that  window  up  stairs." 

They  were  a  little  knot  of  men,  and  the  window  being 
mentioned,  went  out  in  the  road  to  look  up  at  it.  This  occa- 
sioned their  observing  that  the  house  was  still  close  shut,  as  the 
housekeeper  had  said  she  had  left  it  on  the  previous  night, 
and  led  to  a  great  many  suggestions  :  which  terminated  in  two 
or  three  of  the  boldest  getting  round  to  the  back  and  so 
entering  by  a  window,  while  the  others  remained  outside,  in 
impatient  expectation. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  797 

They  looked  into  all  the  rooms  below  :  opening  the  shutter- 
as  they  went,  to  admit  the  fading  light :  and,  still  findmg  no 
body,  and  everything  quiet  and  in  its  place,  doubted  whether 
they  should  go  farther.  One  man,  however,  remarking  that 
they  had  not  yet  been  into  the  garret,  and  that  it  was  there  he 
had  been  last  seen,  they  agreed  to  look  there  too,  and  went  up 
softly  ;  for  the  mystery  and  silence  made  them  timid. 

After  they  had  stood  for  an  instant,  on  the  landing,  eyeing 
each  other,  he  who  had  proposed  their  carrying  the  search  so 
far  turned  the  handle  of  the  door,  and  pushing  it  open,  looked 
through  the  chink  and  fell  back  directly. 

"  It's  very  odd,"  he  whispered,  "  he's  hiding  behind  the 
door !     Look  !  " 

They  pressed  forward  to  see  ;  but  one  among  them  thrust- 
ing the  others  aside  with  a  loud  exclamation,  drew  a  clasp 
knife  from  his  pocket  and  dashing  into  the  room  cut  down  the 
body. 

He  had  torn  a  rope  from  one  of  the  old  trunks,  and  hang- 
ed himself  on  an  iron  hook  immediately  below  the  trap-door 
in  the  ceiling — in  the  very  place  to  which  the  eyes  of  his  son, 
a  lonely  desolate  little  creature,  had  so  often  been  directed  in 
childish  terror,  fourteen  years  before. 


CHAPTER  LXHI. 


THE  BROTHERS  CHEERYBLE  MAKE  VARIOUS  DECLARATIONS  FOR 
THEMSELVES  AND  OTHERS.  TIM  LINKINWATER  MAKES  A 
DECLARATION  FOR  HIMSELF. 

Some  weeks  had  passed,  and  the  first  shock  of  these  events 
had  subsided.  Madeline  had  been  removed  ;  Frank  had  been 
absent ;  Nicholas  and  Kate  had  begun  to  try  in  good  earnest 
to  stifle  their  own  regrets,  and  to  live  for  each  other  and  for 
their  mother — who,  poor  lady,  could  in  nowise  be  reconciled 
to  this  dull  and  altered  state  of  affairs — when  there  came  one 
evening,  per  favor  of  Mr.  Linkinwater,  an  invitation  from  the 
Brothers,  to  dinner  on  the  next  day  but  one  :  comprehending, 
not  only  Mrs.  Nickleby,  Kate,  and  Nicholas,  but  little  Miss 
La  Creevy  who  was  most  particularly  mentioned. 


798 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y. 


"  Now,  my  dears,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby,  when  they  had 
rendered  becoming  honor  to  the  bidding,  and  Tim  had  taken 
his  departure  ;  "  what  does  this  mean  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  mother  ?  "  asked  Nicholas,  smiling. 

"  I  say,  my  dear,"  rejoined  that  lady,  with  a  face  of  un- 
fathomable mystery,  "  what  does  this  invitation  to  dinner 
mean .''     What  is  its  intention  and  object  ?  " 

"  I  conclude  it  means,  that  on  such  a  day,  we  are  to  eat 
and  drink  in  their  house,  and  that  its  intent  and  object  is  to 
confer  pleasure  upon  us,"  said  Nicholas. 

"  And  that's  all  you  conclude  it  is,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  yet  arrived  at  anything  deeper,  mother. 

"  Then  I'll  just  tell  you  one  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleby  ; 
"  you'll  find  yourself  a  little  surprised  ;  that's  all.  You  may 
depend  upon  it  this  means  something  besides  dinner." 

"  Tea  and  supper,  perhaps  ?  "  suggested  Nicholas. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  absurd,  my  dear,  if  I  were  you,"  replied 
Mrs.  Nickleby,  in  a  lofty  manner,  "  because  it's  not  by  any 
means  becoming,  and  doesn't  suit  you  at  all.  W'hat  I  mean 
to  say  is,  that  the  Mr.  Cheerybles  don't  ask  us  to  dinner  with 
all  this  ceremony,  for  nothing.  Never  mind  ;  wait  and  see. 
You  won't  believe  anything  /  say,  of  course.  It's  much  better 
to  wait ;  a  great  deal  better ;  it's  satisfactory  to  all  parties, 
and  there  can  be  no  disputing.  All  I  say  is,  remember  what 
I  say  now,  and  when  I  say  I  said  so,  don't  say  I  didn't." 

With  this  stipulation,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  who  was  troubled, 
night  and  day,  with  a  vision  of  a  hot  messenger  tearing  up  to 
the  door  to  announce  that  Nicholas  had  been  taken  into  part- 
nership, quitted  that  branch  of  the  subject,  and  entered  upon 
a  new  one. 

"  It's  a  very  extraordinary  thing,"  she  said,  "  a  most  ex- 
traordinary thing,  that  they  should  have  invited  Miss  La 
Creevy.  It  quite  astonishes  me,  upon  my  word  it  does.  Of 
course  it's  very  pleasant  that  she  should  be  invited,  very  pleas- 
ant, and  I  have  no  doubt  that  she'll  conduct  herself  extreme- 
ly well  \  she  always  does.  It's  very  gratifying  to  think  we 
should  have  been  the  means  of  introducing  her  into  such  so- 
ciety, and  I'm  quite  glad  of  it — quite  rejoiced — for  she  cer- 
tainly is  an  exceedingly  well-behaved  and  good-natured  little 
person.  I  could  wish  that  some  friend  would  mention  to  her 
how  very  badly  she  has  her  cap  trimmed,  and  what  very  pre- 
posterous bows  those  are,  but  of  course  that's  impossible,  and 
if  she  likes  to  make  a  fright  of  herself,  no  doubt  she  has  a  per- 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEBY.  799 

feci  right  to  do  so.  We  never  see  ourselves — never  do,  and 
never  did — and  1  suppose  we  never  shall." 

This  moral  reflection  reminding  her  of  the  necessity  of 
being  pecuUarly  smart  on  the  occasion,  so  as  to  counterbalance 
Miss  La  Creevv,  and  be  herself  an  effectual  set-off  and  atone- 
ment,  led  Mrs.  Nickleby  into  a  consultation  with  her  daughter 
relative  to  certain  ribands,  gloves,  and  trimmings  :  which, 
being  a  complicated  question,  and  one  of  paramount  impor- 
tance, soon  routed  the  previous  one,  and  put  it  to  flight. 

The  great  day  arriving,  the  good  lady  put  herself  under 
Kate's  hands  an  hour  or  so  after  breakfast,  and,  dressing  by 
easy  stages,  completed  her  toilet  in  sufficient  time  to  allow  of 
her  daughter's  making  hers,  which  was  very  simple  and  not 
very  long,  though  so  satisfactory  that  she  had  never  appeared 
more  charming  or  looked  more  lovely.  Miss  La  Creevy,  too, 
arrived  with  two  bandboxes  (whereof  the  bottoms  fell  out,  as 
they  were  handed  from  the  coach)  and  something  in  a  news- 
paper, which  a  gentleman  had  sat  upon,  coming  down,  and 
which  was  obliged  to  be  ironed  again,  before  it  was  fit  for  ser- 
vice. At  last,  everybody  was  dressed,  including  Nicholas  who 
had  come  home  to  fetch  them,  and  they  went  away  in  a  coach 
sent  by  the  Brothers  for  the  purpose  :  Mrs.  Nickleby  wonder- 
ing very  much  what  they  would  have  for  dinner,  and  cross- 
examining  Nicholas  as  to  the  extent  of  his  discoveries  in  the 
morning  ;  whether  he  had  smelt  anything  cooking,  at  all  like 
turtle,  and  if  not,  what  he  had  smelt  ;  and  diversifying  the 
conversation  with  reminiscences  of  dinners  to  which  she  had 
gone  some  twenty  years  ago,  concerning  which  she  particular- 
ized, not  only  the  dishes  but  the  guests,  in  whom  her  hearers 
did  not  feel  a  very  absorbing  interest,  as  not  one  of  them  had 
ever  chanced  to  hear  their  names  before. 

The  old  butler  received  them  with  profound  respect  and 
many  smiles,  and  ushered  them  into  the  drawing-room,  where 
they  were  received  by  the  Brothers  with  so  much  cordiality 
and  kindness  that  Mrs.  Nickleby  was  quite  in  a  flutter,  and 
had  scarcely  presence  of  mind  enough,  even  to  patronize  Miss 
La  Creevy.  Kate  was  still  more  affected  by  the  reception  : 
for,  knowing  that  the  Brothers  were  acquainted  with  all  that 
had  passed  between  her  and  Frank,  she  felt  her  position  a 
most  delicate  and  tiying  one,  and  was  trembling  on  the  arm 
of  Nicholas,  when  Mr.  Charles  took  her  in  his,  and  led  her  to 
another  part  of  the  room. 

"Have  you  seen  Madeline,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "since  she 
left  your  house  ?  " 


>> 


goo  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

"  No,  sir  !  "  replied  Kate.     "  Not  once." 

"  And  not  heard  from  her,  eh  ?     Not  heard  from  her  ? 

"  I  have  only  had  one  letter,"  rejoined  Kate,  gently.  "  I 
thought  she  would  not  have  forgotten  me,  quite  so  soon." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  old  man,  patting  her  on  the  head,  and 
speaking  as  affectionately  as  if  she  had  been  his  favorite  child. 
"  Poor  dear  !  what  do  you  think  of  this,  brother  Ned  1  Made- 
line has  only  written  to  her  once,  only  once,  Ned,  and  she 
didn't  think  she  would  have  forgotten  her  quite  so  soon. 
Ned." 

"  Oh  !  sad,  sad  ;  very  sad  !  "  said  Ned. 

The  Brothers  interchanged  a  glance,  and  looking  at  Kate 
for  a  little  time  without  speaking,  shook  hands,  and  nodded 
as  if  they  were  congratulating  each  other  on  something  very 
delightful. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  brother  Charles,  "  go  into  that  room, 
my  dear — that  door  yonder — and  see  if  there's  not  a  letter  for 
you  from  her.  I  think  there's  one  upon  the  table.  You 
needn't  hurry  back,  my  love,  if  there  is,  for  we  don't  dine  just 
yet,  and  there's  plenty  of  time.     Plenty  of  time." 

Kate  retired  as  she  was  directed.  Brother  Charles,  hav- 
ing followed  her  graceful  figure  with  his  eyes,  turned  to  Mrs. 
Nickleby,  and  said  : 

"  We  took  the  liberty  of  naming  one  hour  before  the  real 
dinner-time,  ma'am,  because  we  had  a  little  business  to  speak 
about,  which  would  occupy  the  interval.  Ned,  my  dear  fellow, 
will  vou  mention  what  we  agreed  upon  ?  Mr.  Nickleby,  sir, 
have  the  goodness  to  follow  me." 

Without  any  further  explanation,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  Miss  La 
Creevy,  and  brother  Ned,  were  left  alone  together,  and  Nich- 
olas followed  brother  Charles  into  his  private  room  ;  where, 
to  his  great  astonishment,  he  encountered  Frank,  whom  he 
supposed  to  be  abroad. 

"  Young  men,"  said  Mr.  Cheer}'ble,  "  shake  hands  !  " 

"I  need  no  bidding  to  do  that,"  said  Nicholas  extending 
his. 

"Nor  I,"  rejoined  Frank,  as  he  clasped  it  heartily. 

The  old  gentleman  thought  that  two  handsomer  or  finer 
young  fellows  could  scarcely  stand  side  by  side  than  those  on 
whom  he  looked  with  so  much  pleasure.  Suffering  his  eyes 
to  rest  upon  them,  for  a  short  time  in  silence,  he  said,  while 
he  seated  himself  at  his  desk  : 

"  I  wish  to  see  you  freinds — close   and  firm  friends — and 


NICHOLAS  NTCKLEBY.  gd 

if  I  thought  you  otherwise,  I  should  hesitate  in  what  I  am 
about  to  say.  Frank,  look  here  !  Mr.  Nickleby,  will  you 
come  on  the  other  side  t  " 

The  young  men  stepped  up  on  either  hand  of  brother 
Charles,  who  produced  a  paper  from  his  desk  and  unfolded  it. 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  a  copy  of  the  will  of  Madeline's  ma- 
ternal grandfather,  bequeathing  her  the  sum  of  twelve  thousand 
pounds,  payable  either  upon  her  coming  of  age  or  marrying. 
It  would  appear  that  this  gentleman,  angr}  with  her  (his  only 
relation)  because  she  would  not  put  herself  under  his  protec- 
tion, and  detach  herself  from  the  society  of  her  father,  in  com- 
pliance with  his  repeated  overtures,  made  a  will  leaving  his 
property  (which  was  all  he  possessed)  to  a  charitable  institu- 
tion. He  would  seem  to  have  repented  this  determination, 
however,  for,  three  weeks  afterwards,  and  in  the  same  month, 
he  executed  this.  By  some  fraud,  it  was  abstracted  immediate- 
ly after  his  decease,  and  the  other — the  only  will  found — was 
proved  and  administered.  Friendly  negotiations,  which  have 
only  just  now  terminated,  have  been  proceeding  since  this  in- 
strument came  into  our  hands,  and,  as  there  is  no  doubt  of 
its  authenticity,  and  the  witnesses  have  been  discovered  (after 
some  trouble),  the  money  has  been  refunded.  Madeline  has 
therefore  obtained  her  right,  and  is,  or  will  be  when  either  of 
the  contingencies  which  I  have  mentioned  has  arisen,  mistress 
of  this  fortune.     You  understand  me  .'  " 

Frank  replied  in  the  affirmative.  Nicholas,  who  could  not 
trust  himself  to  speak  lest  his  voice  should  be  heard  to  falter, 
bowed  his  head. 

"  Now,  Frank,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "you  were  the  im- 
mediate means  of  recovering  this  deed.  The  fortune  is  but  a 
small  one  ;  but  we  love  Madeline  ;  and  such  as  it  is,  we 
would  rather  see  you  allied  to  her  with  that,  than  to  any  other 
girl  we  know  who  has  three  times  the  money.  Will  you  be- 
come a  suitor  for  her  hand  .-'  " 

"  No  sir.  I  interested  myself  in  the  recover}^  of  that  in- 
strument, believing  that  her  hand  was  already  pledged  to  one 
who  has  a  thousand  times  the  claims  upon  her  gratitude,  and, 
if  I  mistake  not,  upon  her  heart,  that  I  or  any  other  man  can 
ever  urge.     In  this  it  seems  I  judged  hastily." 

"As  you  always  do,  sir,"  cried  brother  Charles,  utterly 
forgetting  his  assumed  dignity,  "  as  you  always  do.  How  dare 
you  think,  Frank,  that  we  should  have  you  marry  for  money, 
when  youth,  beauty,  and  every  amiable  virtue  and  excellence, 

51 


8o2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

were  to  be  had  for  love  ?  How  dared  you,  Frank,  go  and 
make  love  to  Mr.  Nickleby's  sister  without  telling  us  first, 
what  you  meant  to  do,  and  letting  us  speak  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  dared  to  hope — " 

"  You  hardly  dared  to  hope  !  Then,  so  much  the  greater 
reason  for  having  our  assistance !  Mr.  Nickleby,  sir,  Frank, 
although  he  judged  hastily,  judged,  for  once,  correctly.  Mad- 
eline's heart  is  occupied.  Give  me  your  hand,  sir  ,  it  is  occu- 
pied by  you,  and  worthily  and  naturally.  This  fortune  is 
destined  to  be  yours,  but  you  have  a  greater  fortune  in  her, 
sir,  than  you  would  have  in  money  were  it  forty  times  told.  She 
chooses  you,  Mr.  Nickleby.  She  chooses  as  we,  her  dearest 
friends,  would  have  her  choose.  Frank  chooses  as  we  would 
have  ///;//  choose.  He  should  have  your  sister's  little  hand, 
sir,  if  she  had  refused  it  a  score  of  times  ;  ay,  he  should  and 
he  shall !  You  acted  nobly,  not  knowing  our  sentiments,  but 
now  you  know  them,  sir,  you  must  do  as  you  are  bid.  What ! 
You  are  the  children  of  a  worthy  gentleman  !  The  time  was, 
sir,  when  my  dear  brother  Ned  and  I  were  two  poor  simple- 
hearted  boys,  wandering,  almost  barefoot,  to  seek  our  for- 
tunes J  are  we  changed  in  anything  but  years  and  worldly  cir- 
cumstances since  that  time  1  No,  God  forbid  !  Oh,  Ned, 
Ned,  Ned,  what  a  happy  day  this  is  for  you  and  me  !  If  our 
poor  mother  had  only  lived  to  see  us  now,  Ned,  how  proud  it 
would  have  made  her  dear  heart  at  last ! " 

Thus  apostrophized,  brother  Ned  who  had  entered  with 
Mrs.  Nickleby,  and  who  had  been  before  u.nobser\ed  by  the 
young  men,  darted  forward  and  fairly  hugged  brother  Charles 
in  his  arms. 

"  Bring  in  my  little  Kate,"  said  the  latter,  after  a  short 
.silence.  "  Bring  her  in,  Ned.  Let  me  see  Kate,  let  me  kiss 
her.  I  have  a  right  to  do  so  now  ;  I  was  veiy  near  it  when 
she  first  came  ;  I  have  often  been  verv  near  it.  Ah  !  Did 
you  find  the  letter,  my  bird  t  Did  you  find  Madeline  herself, 
waiting  for  you  and  expecting  you  ?  Did  you  find  that  she 
had  not  quite  forgotten  her  friend  and  nurse  and  sweet  com- 
panion }     Why,  this  is  almost  the  best  of  all  !  " 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Ned.  Frank  will  be  jealous,  and  we 
shall  have  some  cutting  of  throats  before  dinner." 

"  Then  let  him  take  her  away,  Ned,  let  him  take  her  away. 
Madeline's  in  the  next  room.  Let  all  the  lovers  get  out  of  the 
way,  and  talk  among  themselves,  if  they've  anything  to  say. 
Turn  'em  out,  Ned,  every  one  !  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  803 

Brother  Charles  began  the  clearance  by  leading  the  blush- 
ing girl  to  the  door,  and  dismissing  her  with  a  kiss.  Frank 
was  not  ver)'  slow  to  follow,  and  Nicholas  had  disappeared 
first  of  all.  So  there  only  remained  Mrs.  Nickleby  and  Miss 
La  Creevy,  who  were  both  sobbing  heartily  ;  the  two  brothers  ; 
and  Tim  Linkinwater,  who  now  came  in  to  shake  hands  with 
everybody,  his  round  face  all  radiant  and  beaming  with 
smiles. 

"  Well,  Tim  Linkinwater,  sir,"  said  brother  Charles,  who 
was  always  spokesman,  "  now  the  young  folks  are  happy,  sir." 

"  You  didn't  keep  'em  in  suspense  as  long  as  you  said  you 
would  though,"  returned  Tim,  archly.  "Why,  Mr.  Nickleby 
and  Mr.  Frank  were  to  have  been  in  your  room  for  I  don't 
know  how  long  ;  and  I  don't  know  what  you  weren't  to  have 
told  them  before  you  came  out  with  the  truth." 

"  Now,  did  you  ever  know  such  a  villain  as  this,  Ned  .'  " 
said  the  old  gentleman,  "  did  you  ever  know  such  a  villain  as 
Tim  Linkinwater  ?  He  accusing  me  of  being  impatient,  and  he 
the  ver}'  man  who  has  been  wearying  us  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  and  torturing  us  for  leave  to  go  and  tell  'em  what  was 
in  store,  before  our  plans  were  half  complete,  or  we  had 
arranged  a  single  thing.     A  treacherous  dog  !  " 

"  So  he  is,  brother  Charles,"  returned  Ned,  "  Tim  is  a 
treacherous  dog.  Tim  is  not  to  be  trusted.  Tim  is  a  wild 
young  fellow.  He  wants  gravity  and  steadiness  ;  he  must  sow 
his  wild  oats,  and  then  perhaps  he'll  become  in  lime  a  respect- 
able member  of  society." 

This  being  one  of  the  standing  jokes  between  the  old  fel- 
lows and  Tim,  they  all  three  laughed  very  heartily,  antl  might 
have  laughed  much  longer,  but  that  the  Brothers  seeing  that 
Mrs.  Nickleby  was  laboring  to  express  her  feelings,  and  was 
really  overwhelmed  by  the  happiness  of  the  time,  took  her 
between  them,  and  led  her  from  the  room  under  pretence  of 
having  to  consult  her  on  some  most  important  arrangements. 

Now,  Tim  and  Miss  La  Creevy  had  met  very  often,  and 
had  always  been  very  chatty  and  pleasant  together — had 
always  been  great  friends — and  consequently  it  was  tlie  moht 
natural  thing  in  the  world  that  Tim,  finding  that  she  still 
sobbed,  should  endeavor  to  console  her.  As  Miss  La  Creevy 
sat  on  a  large  old-fashioned  window-seat  where  there  was 
ample  room  for  two,  it  was  also  natural  that  Tim  should  sit 
down  beside  her  ;  and  as  to  Tim's  being  unusually  spruce 
and  particular  in  his  attire,  that  dav.  whv  it  was  a  high  festival 
and  a  great  occasion,  and  that  was  the  most  natural  thing  of  all. 


8  o4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  F. 

Tim  sat  down  beside  Miss  La  Creevy,  and,  crossing  one 
leg  over  the  other  so  that  his  foot — he  had  very  comely  feet, 
and  happened  to  be  wearing  the  neatest  shoes  and  blacl<.  sill< 
stockings  possible — should  come  easily  within  the  range  of 
her  eye,  said  in  a  soothing  way  : 

"Don't  cry!" 

"  I  mast,"  rejoined  Miss  La  Creevy. 

"  No  don't,"  said  Tim.     "  Please  don't  ;  pray  don't." 

"  I  am  so  happy !  "  sobbed  the  little  woman. 

"  Then  laugh,"  said  Tim.     "  Do  laugh." 

What  in  the  world  Tim  was  doing  with  his  arm,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  conjecture,  but  he  knocked  his  elbow  against  that 
part  of  the  window  which  was  quite  on  the  other  side  of  Miss 
La  Creevy  ;  and  it  is  clear  that  it  could  have  no  business 
there. 

'-  Do  laugh,"  said  Tim,  "  or  I'll  cry." 

"  Why  should  you  cry  ?  "  asked  Miss  La  Creevy,  smiling. 

"  Because  I'm  happy  too,"  said  Tim.  "  We  are  both 
happy,  and  I  should  like  to  do  as  you  do." 

Surely,  there  never  was  a  man  who  fidgeted  as  Tim  must 
have  done  then  ;  for  he  knocked  the  window  again — almost 
in  the  same  place — and  Miss  La  Creevy  said  she  was  sure 
he'd  break  it. 

"  I  know,"  said  Tim,  "that  you  would  be  pleased  with  this 
scene." 

"  It  was  very  thoughtful  and  kind  to  remember  me," 
returned  Miss  La  Creevy.  "  Nothing  could  have  delighted 
me,  half  so  much." 

Why  on  earth  should  Miss  La  Creevy  and  Tim  Linkin- 
water  have  said  all  this  in  a  whisper?  It  was  no  secret.  And 
why  should  Tim  Linkinwater  have  looked  so  hard  at  Miss  La 
Creevy,  and  why  should  Miss  La  Creevy  have  looked  so  hard 
at  the  ground } 

"  It's  a  pleasant  thing,"  said  Tim,  "  to  people  like  us,  who 
have  passed  all  our  lives  in  the  world,  alone,  to  see  young 
folks  that  we  are  fond  of,  brought  together  with  so  many 
years  of  happiness  before  them." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  the  little  woman  with  all  her  heart.  "  That 
it  is  !  " 

"Although,"  pursued  Tim,  "  although  it  makes  one  feel 
quite  solitary  and  cast  away.     Now,  don't  it  ?  " 

Miss  La  Creevy  said  she  didn't  know.  And  why  should 
she  say  she  didn't  know?  Because  she  must  have  known 
whether  it  did  or  not. 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  805 

"  It's  almost  enough  to  make  us  get  married  after  all,  isn't 
it  ?  "  said  Tim. 

"  Oh  nonsense !  "  replied  Miss  La  Cree\y,  laughing. 
"  We  are  too  old." 

"Not  a  bit,"  said  Tim,  "we  are  too  old  to  be  single. 
Why  shouldn't  we  both  be  married  instead  of  sitting  through 
the  long  winter  evenings  by  our  solitary  firesides .'  Why 
shouldn't  we  make  one  fireside  of  it,  and  marry  each  other  ?  " 

*'  Oh  Mr.  Linkinwater,  you're  joking  !  " 

"No,  no,  I'm  not.  I'm  not  indeed,"  said  Tim.  "  I  will, 
if  you  will.     Do,  my  dear  !  " 

"  It  would  make  people  laugh  so." 

"  Let  'em  laugh,"  cried  Tim,  stoutly,  "  we  have  good 
tempers  I  know,  and  we'll  laugh  too.  Why,  what  hearty 
laughs  we  have  had  since  we've  known  each  other!  " 

"  So  we  have,"  cried  Miss  La  Creevy — giving  way  a  little, 
as  Tim  thought. 

"  It  has  been  the  happiest  time  in  all  my  life  ;  at  least, 
away  from  the  counting-house  and  Cheeryble  Brothers,"  said 
Tim.     "  Do,  my  dear  !     Now  say  you  will." 

"  No,  no,  we  mustn't  think  of  it,"  returned  Miss  La  Creevy. 
"  What  would  the  Brothers  say  ?  " 

"  Why,  God  bless  your  soul ! "  cried  Tim,  innocently, 
"you  don't  suppose  I  should  think  of  such  a  thing  without 
their  knowing  it  !     Why,  they  left  us  here  on  purpose." 

"  I  can  never  look  'em  in  the  face  again  !  "  exclaimed  Miss 
La  Creevy,  faintly. 

"  Come  !  "  said  Tim.  "  Let's  be  a  comfortable  couple. 
We  shall  live  in  the  old  house  here,  where  I  have  been  for 
four-and  forty  year ;  we  shall  go  to  the  old  church,  where  I've 
been,  every  Sunday  morning,  all  through  that  time  ;  we  shall 
have  all  my  old  friends  about  us — Dick,  the  archway,  the  pump, 
the  flower-pots,  and  Mr.  Frank's  children,  and  Mr.  Nickleby's 
children  that  we  shall  seem  like  grandfather  and  grandmother 
to.  Let's  be  a  comfortable  couple,  and  take  care  of  each 
other  !  And  if  we  should  get  deaf,  or  lame,  or  blind,  or  bed- 
ridden, how  glad  we  shall  be  that  we  have  somebody  we  are 
fond  of,  always  to  talk  to  and  sit  with  !  Let's  be  a  comforta- 
ble couple.     Now,  do,  my  dear !  " 

Five  minutes  after  this  honest  and  straightforward  speech, 
little  Miss  La  Creevy  and  Tim  were  talking  as  pleasantly  as 
if  they  had  been  married  for  a  score  of  years,  and  had  never 
once  quarrelled  all  the  time ;  and  five  minutes  after  that, 
when  Miss  La  Creevy  had  bustled  out  to  see  if  her  eyes  were 


8o6  NICHOLAS  NICKI.EBY. 

red  and  to  put  her  hair  to  rights,  Tim  moved  witli  a  stately 
step  towards  the  drawing-room,  exclaiming  as  he  went, 
"  There  an't  such  another  woman  in  all  London !  I  know 
there  an't !  " 

By  this  time,  the  apoplectic  butler  was  nearly  in  fits,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  unheard-of  postponement  of  dinner.  Nicho- 
las, who  had  been  engaged  in  a  manner  in  which  every  reader 
may  imagine  for  himself  or  herself,  was  hurrying  down  stairs 
in  obedience  to  his  angry  summons,  when  he  encountered  a 
new  surprise. 

On  his  way  down,  he  overtook  in  one  of  the  passages  a 
stranger  genteelly  dressed  in  black,  who  was  also  moving 
towards  the  dining-room.  As  he  was  rather  lame  and  walked 
slowly,  Nicholas  lingered  behind,  and  was  following  him  step 
by  step,  wondering  who  he  was,  when  he  suddenly  turned 
round  and  caught  him  by  both  hands. 

"  Newman  Noggs  !  "  cried  Nicholas  joyfully. 

"  Ah  !  Newman,  your  own  Newman,  your  own  old  faithful 
Newman  !  My  dear  boy,  my  dear  Nick,  I  give  you  joy — 
health,  happiness,  every  blessing  !  I  can't  bear  it — it's  too 
much  my  dear  boy— it  makes  a  child  of  me  !  " 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  said  Nicholas,  "  what  have  you 
being  doing  1  How  often  have  1  inquired  for  you,  and  been 
told  that  I  should  hear  before  long  !  "  , 

"I  know,  I  know!"  returned  Newman.  "  They  wanted 
all  the  happiness  to  come  together.  I've  been  helping  'em. 
I — I- — look  at  me,  Nick,  look  at  me  !  " 

"  You  would  never  let  77ie  do  that,"  said  Nicholas  in  a  tone 
of  gentle  reproach. 

"  1  didn't  mind  what  I  was,  then.  I  shouldn't  have  had 
the  heart  to  put  on  gentleman's  clothes.  They  would  have 
reminded  me  of  old  times  and  made  me  miserable.  I  am  an- 
other man  now,  Nick.  My  dear  boy,  I  can't  speak.  Don't 
say  anything  to  me.  Don't  think  the  worse  of  me  for  these 
tears.  You  don't  know  what  I  feel  to-day  ;  you  can't,  and 
never  will  !  " 

They  walked  in  to  dinner,  arm-in-arm,  and  sat  down  side 
by  side. 

Never  was  such  a  dinner  as  that,  since  the  world  began. 
There  was  the  superannuated  bank  clerk,  Tim  Linkinwater's 
friend  ;  and  there  was  the  chubby  old  lady,  Tim  Linkinwater's 
sister;  and  there  was  so  much  attention  from  Tim  Linkin- 
water's sister  to  Miss  La  C'reevy,  and  there  were  so  many 
jokes  from  the  superannuated  bank  clerk,  and  Tim  Linkin* 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  807 

water  himself  was  in  such  tiptop  spirits,  and  Uttle  Miss  La 
Creevy  was  in  such  a  comical  state,  that  of  themselves  they 
would  have  composed  the  pleasantest  party  conceivable. 
Then,  there  were  Mrs.  Nickleby,  so  grand  and  complacent ; 
Madeline  and  Kate,  so  blushing  and  beautiful  ;  Nicholas  and 
Frank,  so  devoted  and  proud  ;  and  all  four  so  silently  and 
tremblingly  happy  ;  there  was  Newman  so  subdued  yet  so 
overjoyed,  and  there  were  the  twin  Brothers,  so  delighted  and 
interchanging  such  looks,  that  the  old  servant  stood  trans- 
fixed behind  his  master's  chair,  and  felt  his  eyes  grow  dim  as 
they  wandered  round  the  table. 

When  the  first  novelty  of  the  meeting  had  worn  off,  and 
they  began  truly  to  feel  how  happy  they  were,  the  conversa- 
tion became  more  general,  and  the  harmony  and  pleasure  if 
possible  increased.  The  Brothers  were  in  perfect  ecstasy  ; 
and  their  insisting  on  saluting  the  ladies,  all  round,  before 
they  would  permit  them  to  retire,  gave  occasion  to  the  super- 
annuated bank  clerk  to  say  so  many  good  things,  that  he 
quite  outshone  himself,  and  was  looked  upon  as  a  prodigy 
of  humor. 

",Kate,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nickleb)^,  taking  her  daughter 
aside,  as  soon  as  they  got  up  stairs,  "you  don't  really  mean  to 
tell  me  that  this  is  actually  true  about  Miss  La  Creevy  and 
Mr.  Linkinwater  .?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is,  mama." 

"  Why,  I  never  heard  such  a  thing  in  my  life  !  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Nickleby, 

"  Mr.  Linkinwater  is  a  most  excellent  creature,"  reasoned 
Kate,  "  and,  for  his  age,  quite  young  still." 

"  For  his  age,  my  dear  !  "  returned  Mrs.  Nickleby.  "  Yes ; 
nobody  says  anything  against  him,  except  that  I  think  he  is 
the  weakest  and  most  foolish  man  I  ever  knew.  It's  her  age 
I  speak  of.  That  he  should  have  gone  and  offered  himself  to 
a  woman  who  must  be — ah,  half  as  old  again  as  I  am — and 
that  she  should  have  dared  to  accept  him  !  It  don't  signify, 
Kate  ;  I'm  disgusted  with  her!" 

Shaking  her  head  very  emphatically  indeed,  Mrs.  Nickleby 
swept  away  ;  and  all  the  evening,  in  the  midst  of  the  merri- 
ment and  enjoyment  that  ensued,  and  in  which  with  that  excep- 
tion she  freely  participated,  conducted  herself  towards  Miss 
La  Creevy  in  a  stately  and  distant  manner,  designed  to  mark 
her  sense  of  the  impropriety  of  her  conduct,  and  to  signify 
her  extreme  and  cutting  disapprobation  of  the  misdemeanor 
she  had  so  flagrantly  committed. 


8o8  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE  IS  RECOGNIZED  UNDER  MELANCHOLY 
CIRCUMSTANCES,  AND  DOTHEBOYS  HALL  BREAKS  UP  FOR 
EVER. 

Nicholas  was  one  of  those  whose  joy  is  incomplete  unless 
It  is  shared  by  the  friends  of  adverse  and  less  fortunate  days. 
Surrounded  by  every  fascination  of  love  and  hope,  his  warm 
heart  yearned  towards  plain  John  Browdie.  He  remembered 
their  first  meeting  with  a  smile,  and  their  second  with  a  tear  ; 
saw  poor  Smike  once  again  with  the  bundle  on  his  shoulder 
trudging  patiently  by  his  side  ;  and  heard  the  honest  York- 
shireman's  rough  words  of  encouragement  as  he  left  them  on 
their  road  to  London. 

Madeline  and  he  sat  down,  very  many  times,  jointly  to 
produce  a  letter  which  should  acquaint  John  at  full  length 
with  his  altered  fortunes,  and  assure  him  of  his  friendship  and 
gratitude.  It  so  happened,  however,  that  the  letter  could 
never  be  written.  Although  they  applied  themselves  to  it  with 
the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  it  chanced  that  they  always 
fell  to  talking  about  something  else,  and  when  Nicholas  tried 
it  by  himself,  he  found  it  impossible  to  write  one  half  of  what 
he  wished  to  say,  or  to  pen  anything  indeed,  which  on  re- 
perusal  did  not  appear  cold  and  unsatisfactory  compared  with 
what  he  had  in  his  mind.  At  last,  after  going  on  thus  from 
day  to  day,  and  reproaching  himself  more  and  more,  he  re- 
solved (the  more  readily  as  Madeline  strongly  urged  him)  to 
make  a  hasty  trip  into  Yorkshire,  and  present  himself  before 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browdie  without  a  word  of  notice. 

Thus  it  was  that  between  seven  and  eight  o'clock  one 
evening,  he  and  Kate  found  themselves  in  the  Saracen's  Head 
booking-office,  securing  a  place  to  Greta  Bridge  by  the  next 
morning's  coach.  They  had  to  go  westward,  to  procure  some 
little  necessaries  for  his  journey,  and,  as  it  was  a  fine  night, 
they  agreed  to  walk  there,  and  ride  home. 

The  place  they  had  just  been  in,  called  up  so  many  recol- 
lections, and  Kate  had  so  many  anecdotes  of  Madeline,  and 
Nicholas  so  many  anecdotes  of  Frank,  and  each  was  so  inter- 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  8 09 

ested  in  what  the  otlicr  said,  and  both  were  so  happy  and 
confiding,  and  had  so  much  to  tall<:  about,  that  it  was  not  until 
they  iiad  plunged  for  a  full  half  hour  into  that  labyrinth  of 
streets  which  lies  between  Seven  Dials  and  Soho,  without 
emerging  into  any  large  thoroughfare,  that  Nicholas  began  to 
think  it  just  possible  they  might  have  lost  their  way. 

The  possibility  was  soon  converted  into  a  certainty  ;  for, 
on  looking  about,  and  walking  first  to  one  end  of  the  street 
and  then  to  the  other,  he  could  find  no  landmark  he  could 
recognize,  and  was  fain  to  turn  back  again  in  quest  of  some 
place  at  which  he  could  seek  a  direction. 

It  was  a  by- street,  and  there  was  nobody  about,  or  in  the 
few  wretched  shops  they  \passed.  Making  towards  a  faint 
gleam  of  light,  which  streamed  across  the  pavement  from  a 
cellar,  Nicholas  was  about  to  descend  two  or  three  steps  so  as 
to  render  himself  visible  to  those  below  and  make  his  inquir\', 
when  he  was  arrested  by  a  loud  noise  of  scolding  in  a  woman's 
voice. 

"  Oh  come  away  !  "  said  Kate.  "  They  are  quarreling. 
You'll  be  hurt." 

"  Wait  one  instant,  Kate.  Let  us  hear  if  there's  anything 
the  matter,"  returned  her  brother.     "  Hush  !  " 

"  You  nasty,  idle,  vicious,  good-for-nothing  brute,"  cried 
the  woman,  stamping  on  the  ground,  "  why  don't  you  turn 
the  mangle  \  " 

'"  Sol  am,  my  li'e  and  soul  !  "  replied  a  man's  voice.  "  I 
am  always  turning.  I  am  perpetually  turning,  like  a  demd  old 
horse  in  a  demnition  mill.  My  life  is  one  demd  horrid 
grind  !  " 

"  Then  why  don't  you  go  and  list  for  a  soldier  ?  "  retorted 
the  woman,   "  you're  welcome  to." 

"  For  a  soldier  !  "  cried  the  man.  "  For  a  soldier  !  Would 
his  joy  and  gladness  see  him  in  a  coarse  red  coat  with  a  little 
tail  ?  Would  she  hear  of  his  being  slapped  and  beat  by 
drummers  demnebly  ?  Would  she  have  him  fire  off  real  guns 
and  have  his  hair  cut,  and  his  whiskers  shaved,  and  his  eyes 
turned  right  and  left,  and  his  trousers  pipeclayed  ?  "  *,  w 

"  Dear  Nicholas,"  whispered  Kate,   "you  don't  know  who  -t;;* 
that  is.     "  It's  Mr.  Mantalini  I  am  qonfi.d^'nt." 

"  Do  niakc  sure  !  Peep  at  him  while  I  ask  the  way,"  said 
Nicholas.     "  Come  down  a  step  or  two.     Come  !  " 

Drawing  her  after  him,  Nicholas  crept  down  the  steps  and 
looked  into  a  small  boarded  cellar.     There   amidst  clothes- 


8 1  o  NICHOLAS  NTCKLEB  V. 

baskets  and  clothes,  stripped  to  his  shirt-sleeves,  but  wearing 
still  an  old  patched  pair  of  pantaloons  of  superlative  make,  a 
once  brilliant  waistcoat,  and  mustache  and  whiskers  as  of 
yore,  but  lacking  their  lustrous  dye — there,  endeavoring  to 
mollify  the  wrath  of  a  buxom  female — not  the  lawful  Madame 
Mantalini,  but  the  proprietress  of  the  concern — and  grinding 
meanwhile  as  if  for  very  life  at  the  mangle,  whose  creaking 
noise,  mingled  with  her  shrill  notes,  appeared  almost  to  deafen 
him — there  was  the  graceful,  elegant,  fascinating,  and  once 
dashing  Mantalini. 

"  Oh,  you  false  traitor  !  "  cried  the  lady,  threatening  per- 
sonal violence  on  Mr.  Mantalini's  face. 

"  False.  Oh  dem  !  Now  my  soul,  my  gentle,  captivating, 
bewitching,  and  most  demnebly  enslaving  chick-a-biddy,  be 
calm,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  humbly. 

"  I  won't  !  "  screamed  the  woman.  "  I'll  tear  your  eyes 
out  !  " 

"  Oh  !  What  a  demd  savage  lamb  ! "  cried  Mr.  Man- 
talini. 

"You're  never  to  be  trusted,"  screamed  the  woman,  "you 
were  out  all  day  yesterday,  and  gallivanting  somewhere  I 
know.  You  know  you  were  !  Isn't  it  enough  that  I  paid  two 
pound  fourteen  for  you,  and  took  you  out  of  prison  and  let 
you  live  here  like  a  gentleman,  but  must  you  go  on  like  this : 
breaking  my  heart  besides  .-'  " 

"  I  will  never  break  its  heart,  I  will  be  a  good  boy,  and 
never  do  so  any  more.  I  will  never  be  naughty  again  ;  I  beg 
its  little  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Mantalini,  dropping  the  handle  of 
the  mangle,  and  folding  its  palms  together,  "  it  is  all  up  with 
its  handsome  friend  !  He  has  gone  to  the  demnition  bow- 
wows. It  will  have  pity  ?  It  will  not  scratch  and  claw,  but 
J3et  and  comfort  ?     Oh,  demmit." 

Very  little  afifected,  to  judge  from  her  action,  by  this  ten- 
der appeal,  the  lady  was  on  the  point  of  returning  some 
angry  reply,  when  Nicholas  raising  his  voice  asked  his  way  to 
Piccadilly. 

Mr.  Mantalini  turned  round,  caught  sight  of  Kate,  and, 
without  another  word,  leapt  at  one  bound  into  a  bed  which 
stood  behind  the  door,  and  drew  the  counterpane  over  his 
face  :  kicking  meanwhile  convulsively. 

"  Demmit,"  he  cried,  in  a  suffocating  voice,  "  it's  little 
Nickleby  !  Shut  the  door,  put  out  the  candle,  turn  me  up  in 
the  bedstead !     Oh,  dem,  dem,  dem  !  " 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  8 1 1 

The  woman  looked,  first  at  Nicholas,  and  then  at  Mr, 
Mantalini,  as  if  uncertain  on  whom  to  visit  this  extraoi  linary 
behavior  ;  but  Mr.  Mantalini  happening  by  ill  luck  to  thrust 
his  nose  from  under  the  bedclothes,  in  his  anxiety  to  ascertain 
whether  the  visitors  were  gone,  she  suddenly,  and  with  a  dex- 
terity which  could  only  have  been  acquired  by  long  practice, 
flung  a  pretty  heavy  clothes-basket  at  him  with  so  good  an 
aim  that  he  kicked  more  violently  than  before,  though  without 
venturing  to  make  any  effort  to  disengage  his  head,  which  was 
quite  extinguished.  Thinking  this  a  favorable  opportunity 
for  departing  before  any  of  the  torrent  of  her  wrath  discharged 
itself  upon  him,  Nicholas  hurried  Kate  off  and  left  the  unfor- 
tunate subject  of  this  unexpected  recognition  to  explain  his 
conduct  as  he  best  could. 

The  next  morning  he  began  his  journey.  It  was  now  cold 
winter  weather:  forcibly  recalling  to  his  mind  under  what 
circumstances  he  had  first  travelled  that  road,  and  how  many 
vicissitudes  and  changes  he  had  since  undergone.  He  was 
alone  inside,  the  greater  part  of  the  way,  and  sometimes^  when 
he  had  fallen  into  a  doze,  and,  rousing  himself,  looked  out  of 
the  window,  and  recognized  some  place  which  he  well  remem- 
bered as  having  passed,  either  on  his  journey  down,  or  in  the 
long  walk  back  with  poor  Smike,  he  could  hardly  beliexe  but 
that  all  which  had  since  happened  had  been  a  dream',  and  that 
they  were  still  plodding  wearily  on  towards  London,  with  the 
world  before  them. 

To  render  these  recollections  the  more  vivid,  it  came  on 
to  snow  as  night  set  in  ;  and  passing  through  Stamford  and 
Grantham,  and  by  the  little  alehouse  where  he  had  heard  the 
story  of  the  bold  Baron  of  Grogzwig,  ever}'thing  looked  as  if 
he  had  seen  it  but  yesterday,  and  not  even  a  flake  of  the  white 
crust  on  the  roofs  had  melted  away.  Encouraging  the  train 
of  ideas  which  flocked  uj^on  him,  he  could  almost  persuade 
himself  that  he  sat  again  outside  the  coach,  with  Squeers  and 
the  boys ;  that  he  heard  their  voices  in  the  air  ;  and  that  he 
felt  again,  but  with  a  mingled  sensation  of  pain  and  pleasure 
now,  that  old  sinking  of  the  heart,  and  longing  after  home. 
While  he  was  yet  yielding  himself  up  to  these  fancies  he  fell 
asleep,  and,  dreaming  of  Madeline,  forgot  them. 

He  slept  at  the  inn  at  Greta  Bridge,  on  the  night  of  his 
arrival,  and,  rising  at  a  very  early  hour  next  morning,  walked 
to  the  market  town,  and  inquired  for  John  Browdie's  house. 
John  lived  in  the  outskirts,  now  he  was  a  family  man ;  and,  as 


8 1 2  NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V. 

everybody  knew  him,  Nicholas  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  a 
boy  who  undertook  to  guide  him  to  his  residence. 

Dismissing  his  guide  at  the  gate,  and  in  his  impatience 
not  even  stopping  to  admire  the  thriving  look  of  cottage  or 
garden  either,  Nicholas  made  his  way  to  the  kitchen  door,  and 
knocked  lustily  with  his  stick. 

"  Halloa  !  "  cried  a  voice  inside.  "  Waat  be  the  matther 
noo.-"  Be  the  toon  a-fire .''  Uing,  but  thou  mak'st  noise 
eneaf!" 

With  these  words,  John  Browdie  opened  the  door  himself, 
and  opening  his  eyes  too,  to  their  utmost  width,  cried,  as  he 
clapped  his  hands  together,  and  burst  into  a  hearty  roar : 

"  Ecod,  it  be  the  godfeyther,  it  be  the  godfeyther !  'Tilly, 
here  be  Misther  Nickleby.  Gi'  us  thee  bond,  mun.  Coom 
awa',  coom  awa'.  In  wi'  'un,  doon  beside  the  lire  ;  tak'  a 
soop  o'  thot.  Dinnot  say  a  word  till  thou'st  droonk  it  a' ! 
Oop  wi'  it,  mun.      Ding !  but  I'm  reeght  glod  to  see  thee." 

Adapting  his  action  to  his  text,  John  dragged  Nicholas  into 
the  kitchen,  forced  him  down  upon  a  huge  settle  beside  a 
blazing  fire,  poured  out  from  an  enormous  bottle  about  a  quar- 
ter of  a  pint  of  spirits,  thrust  it  into  his  hand,  opened  his 
mouth,  and  threw  back  his  head  as  a  sign  to  him  to  drink  it 
instantly,  and  stood  vv-ith  a  broad  grin  of  welcome  overspread- 
ing his  gfeat  red  face,  like  a  jolly  giant. 

"  I  might  ha'  knowa'd,"  said  John,  "  that  nobody  but  thou 
would  ha'  coom  wi'  sike  a  knock  as  yon.  Thot  was  the  wa' 
thou  knocked  at  schoolmeasther's  door,  eh  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
But  I  say  ;  waa't  be  a'  this  aboot  schoolmeasther  ? " 

"  You  know  it  then  ?  "  said  Nicholas. 

"  They  were  talking  aboot  it,  doon  toon,  last  neeght,"  re- 
plied John,  "  but  neane  on  'em  seemed  quite  to  un'erstan'  it 
loike." 

"  After  various  shiftings  and  delays,"  said  Nicholas,  "  he 
has  been  sentenced  to  be  transported  for  seven  years,  for 
being  in  the  unlawful  possession  of  a  stolen  will  ;  and,  after 
that,  he  has  to  suffer  the  consequence  of  a  conspiracy." 

"  Whew  !  "  cried  John,  "  a  conspiracy  !  Soomat  in  the 
pooder  plot  wa'  ?     Eh  !     Soomat  in  the  Guy  Eaux  line  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no,  a  conspiracy  connected  with  his  school ;  I'll 
explain  it  presently." 

"  Thot's  reeght  !"  said  John,  "explain  it  arter  breakfast, 
not  noo,  for  thou  bee'st  hoongrv,  and  so  am  I  ;  and  Tilly  she 
mun' be  at  the  bottom  o'  a'  explanations,  for  she  says  thot's 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  V.  813 

the  mutual  confidence.      Ha,  ha,  ha !     Ecod  it's  a  room  start, 
is  the  mutual  confidence  !  " 

"  The  entrance  of  Mrs.  Browdie,  with  a  smart  cap  on  and 
very  many  apoloii^ies  for  their  ha\-ing  been  detected  in  the  act 
of  breakfasting  in  the  kitchen,  stopped  John  in  his  discussion 
of  this  grave  subject,  and  hastened  the  breakfast :  which,  being 
composed  of  vast  mounds  of  toast,  new-laid  eggs,  boiled  ham, 
Yorkshire  pie,  and  other  cold  substantial  (of  which  heavy  re- 
lays were  constantly  appearing  from  another  kitchen  under  the 
direction  of  a  very  plump  servant),  was  admirably  adapted  to 
the  cold  bleak  morning,  and  received  the  utmost  justice  from 
all  parties.  At  last,  it  came  to  a  close  ;  and  the  fire  which  had 
been  lighted  in  the  best  parlor  having  by  this  time  burnt  up, 
they  adjourned  thither,  to  hear  what  Nicholas  had  to  tell. 

Nicholas  told  them  all,  and  never  was  there  a  story  which 
awakened  so  many  emotions  in  the  breasts  of  two  eager  listen- 
ers. At  one  time,  honest  John  groaned  in  sympathy,  and  at 
another  roared  with  joy  ;  at  one  time  he  vowed  to  go  up  to 
London  on  purpose  to  get  a  sight  of  the  Brothers  Cheeryble  ; 
at  another,  swore  that  Tim  Linkinwater  should  receive  such  a 
ham  by  coach,  and  carriage  free,  as  mortal  knife  had  never 
carved.  When  Nicholas  iDCgan  to  describe  Madeline,  he  sat 
with  his  mouth  wide  open,  nudging  Mrs.  Browdie  from  time  to 
time,  and  exclaiming  under  his  breath  that  she  must  be 
"  raa'ther  a  tidy  sart,"  and  when  he  heard  at  last  that  his  young 
friend  had  come  down,  purposely  to  communicate  his  good 
fortune,  and  to  convey  to  him  all  those  assurances  of  friend- 
ship which  he  could  not  state  with  sufficient  warmth  in  wri- 
ting— that  the  only  object  of  his  journey  was  to  share  his  hap- 
piness with  them,  and  to  tell  them  that  when  he  was  married 
they  must  come  up  to  see  him,  and  that  Madeline  insisted  on 
it  as  well  as  he — John  could  hold  out  no  longer,  but  after  look- 
ing indignantly  at  his  wife,  and  demanding  to  know  what  she 
was  whimpering  for,  drew  his  coat-sleeve  over  his  eyes  and 
blubbered  outright. 

"  Tell'ee  waa't  though,"  said  John  seriously,  when  a  great 
deal  had  been  said  on  both  sides,  "  to  return  to  schoolmeas- 
ther.  If  this  news  aboot  'un  has  reached  school  to-day,  the 
old  'ooman  wean't  have  a  whole  boan  in  her  boddy,  nor  Fanny 
neither." 

"  Oh  John  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Browdie. 

"  Ah  fand  Oh  John  agean,"  replied  the  Yorkshireman. 
"  I  dinnot  know  what  they  lads   mightn't   do.     When  it   first 


8i4  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

got  aboot  that  schoolmeasther  was  in  trouble,  some  feythers 
and  moothers  sent  and  took  their  young  chaps  awa'.  If  them 
as  is  left,  should  know  waa'ts  coom  tiv'un,  there'll  be  sike  a 
revolution  and  rebel ! — Ding  !  But  I  think  they'll  a'  gang 
daft,  and  spill  bluid  like  wather  !  " 

In  fact  John  Browdie's  apprehensions  were  so  strong  that 
he  determined  to  ride  over  to  the  school  without  delay,  and 
invited  Nicholas  to  accompany  him,  which,  however,  he  de- 
clined, pleading  that  his  presence  might  perhaps  aggravate 
the  bitterness  of  their  adversity. 

"  Thot's  true  !  "  said  John,  "  I  should  ne'er  ha'  thought  o' 
thot." 

"  I  must  return  to-morrow,"  said  Nicholas,  "but  I  mean 
to  dine  with  you  to-day  and  if  Mrs.  Browdie  can  give  me  a 
bed " 


a 


Bed  !  "  cried  John,  "  I  wish  thou  couldst  sleep  in  fower 
beds  at  once.  Ecod  thou  should'st  have  'em  a'.  Bide  till  I 
coom  back  ;  on'y  bide  till  I  coom  back,  and  ecod  we'll  make 
a  day  of  it ! '' 

Giving  his  wife  a  hearty  kiss,  and  Nicholas  a  no  less  hearty 
shake  of  the  liand,  John  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  off  : 
leaving  Mrs.  Browdie  to  apply  herself  to  hospitable  prepara- 
tions, and  his  young  friend  to  stroll  about  the  neighborhood, 
and  revisit  spots  which  were  rendered  familiar  to  him  by  many 
a  miserable  association. 

John  cantered  away,  and  arri\  ing  at  Dotheboys  Hall,  tied 
his  horse  to  a  gate  and  made  his  way  to  the  school-room  door, 
which  he  found  locked  on  the  inside.  A  tremendous  noise 
and  riot  arose  from  within,  and,  applying  his  eye  to  a  conve- 
nient crevice  in  the  wall,  he  did  not  remain  long  in  ignorance 
of  its  meaning. 

The  news  of  Mr.  Squeers's  downfall  had  reached  Dothe- 
boys ;  that  was  quite  clear.  To  all  appearance,  it  had  very 
recently  become  known  to  the  young  gentlemen  ;  for  rebellion 
had  just  broken  out. 

It  was  one  of  the  brimstone-and-treacle  mornings,  and 
Mrs.  Squeers  had  entered  school  according  to  custom  with  the 
large  bowl  and  spoon,  followed  by  Miss  Squeers  and  the  amia- 
ble Wackford  :  who,  during  his  father's  absence  had  taken 
upon  himself  such  minor  branches  of  the  executive  as  kicking 
the  pupils  with  his  nailed  boots,  pulling  the  hair  of  some  of 
the  smaller  boys,  pinching  the  others  in  aggravating  places,  and 
rendering  himself  in  various  similar  ways  a  great  comfort  and 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEB  Y.  815 

happiness  to  his  mother.  Their  entrance,  whether  by  pre- 
meditation or  a  simultaneous  impulse,  was  the  signal  of  revolt. 
While  one  detachment  rushed  to  the  door  and  locked  it, 
and  another  mounted  the  desk  and  forms,  the  stoutest  (and 
consequently  the  newest)  boy  seized  the  cane,  and,  confront- 
ing Mrs.  Squeers  with  a  stern  countenance,  snatched  off  her 
cap  and  beaver-bonnet,  put  it  on  his  own  head,  armed  himself 
with  the  wooden  spoon  and  bade  her  on  pain  of  death,  go 
down  upon  her  knees  and  take  a  dose  directly.  Before  that 
estimable  lady  could  recover  herself,  or  offer  the  slightest  re- 
taliation, she  was  forced  into  a  kneeling  posture  by  a  crowd  of 
shouting  tormentors,  and  compelled  to  swallow  a  spoonful  of 
the  odious  mixture,  rendered  more  than  usually  savory  by 
the  immersion  in  the  bowl  of  Master  Wackford's  head,  whose 
ducking  was  entrusted  to  another  rebel.  The  success  of  this 
first  achievement  prompted  the  malicious  crowd,  whose  faces 
were  clustered  together  in  every  variety  of  lank  and  half- 
starved  ugliness,  to  further  acts  of  outrage.  The  leader  was 
insisting  upon  Mrs.  Squeers  repeating  her  dose.  Master 
Squeers  was  undergoing  another  dip  in  the  treacle,  and  a  violent 
assault  had  been  commenced  on  Miss  Squeers,  when  John 
Browdie,  bursting  open  the  door  with  a  vigorous  kick,  rushed 
to  the  rescue.  The  shouts,  screams,  groans,  hoots,  and  clap- 
ping of  hands,  suddenly  ceased,  and  a  dead  silence  ensued. 

""  Ve  be  noice   chaps,"  said  John,  looking  steadily  round. 
"Waat's  to  do  here,  thou  yoong  dogs  ! " 

"  Squeers  is  in  prison,  and  we  are  going  to  run  away  ! " 
cried  a  score  of  shrill  voices.    "  We  won't  stop,  we  won't  stop  !  " 

"  Weel  then,  dinnot  stop,"  replied  John  ;  "  who  waants 
thee  to  stop  ?  Roon  awa'  loike  men,  but  dinnot  hurt  the 
women." 

"  Hurrah  !  "  cried  the  shrill  voices,  more  slirilly  still. 

"Hurrah.'"  repeated  John.  "Weel,  hurrah  loike  men 
too.     Noo  then,  look  out.     Hip — hip — hip — hurrah  !  " 

"  Hurrah  !  "  cried  the  voices. 

"  Hurrah  !     Agean,"  said  John.     "  Looder  still." 

The  boys  obeyed. 

"  Anoother ! "  said  John.  "  Dinnot  be  afeared  on  it. 
Let's  have  a  good  'un  !  " 

"  Hurrah  !  " 

"  Noo  then,"  said  John,  "  let's  have  yan  more  to  end  wi', 
and  then  coot  off  as  quick  as  you  loike.  Tak'  a  good  breath 
noo — Squeers  be  in  jail — the  school's  brokken  oop — it's  a' 


8i6  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 

ower — past  and  gane — think  o'  thot,  and  let  it  be  a  hearty 
'un  !     Hurrah  !  " 

Such  a  cheer  arose  as  the  walls  of  Dotheboys  Hal!  had 
never  echoed  before,  and  were  destined  never  to  respond  to 
again.  When  the  sound  had  died  away,  the  school  was  empty  . 
and  of  the  busy  noisy  crowd  which  had  peopled  it  but  five 
minutes  before,  not  one  remained. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Browdie  !  "  said  Miss  Squeers,  hot  and 
flushed  from  the  recent  encounter,  but  vixenish  to  the  last  : 
"  you've  been  and  excited  our  boys  to  run  away.  Now  see  if 
we  don't  pay  you  out  for  that,  sir  !  If  my  pa  is  unfortunate 
and  trod  down  by  henemies,  we're  not  going  to  be  basely 
crowed  and  conquered  over  by  you  and  Tilda." 

"Noa!"  replied  John  bluntly,  "thou  bean't.  Tak'  thy 
oath  o'  thot.  Think  betther  o'  us,  Fanny.  I  tell  'ee  both, 
that  I'm  glod  the  auld  man  has  been  caught  out  at  last — 
dom'd  glod — but  ye'U  sooffer  eneaf  vvi'out  anycrowin'  fra'  me, 
and  I  be  not  the  mun  to  crow,  nor  be  Tilly  the  lass,  so  I  tell 
'ee  flat.  More  than  thot,  I  tell  'ee  noo,  that  if  thou  need'st 
friends  to  help  thee  awa'  from  this  place — dinnot  turn  up  thy 
nose,  Fanny,  thoumay'st — thou'ltfoind  Tilly  and  I  wi'  a  thout 
o'  old  times  aboot  us,  readv  to  lend  thee  a  bond.  And  when 
I  say  thot,  dinnot  think  I  be  asheamed  of  waa't  I've  deane,  for 
I  say  agean,  Hurrah  !    And  dom  the  schoolmeasther.    There  !  " 

His  parting  words  concluded,  John  Browdie  strode  heavily 
out,  remounted  his  nag,  put  him  once  more  into  a  smart 
canter,  and,  carolling  lustily  forth  some  fragments  of  an  old 
song  to  which  the  horse's  hoofs  rang  a  merry  accompaniment, 
sped  back  to  his  pretty  wife  and  to  Nicholas. 

For  some  days  afterwards,  the  neighboring  country  was 
overrun  with  boys,  who,  the  report  went,  had  been  secretly 
furnished  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browdie,  not  only  with  a  hearty  meal 
of  bread  and  meat,  but  with  sundry  shillings  and  sixpences  to 
help  them  on  their  way.  To  this  rumor  John  always  returned 
a  stout  denial,  which  he  accompanied,  however,  with  a  lurking 
grin,  that  rendered  the  suspicious  doubtful,  and  fully  confirmed 
all  previous  believers. 

There  were  a  few  timid  young  children,  who,  miserable  as 
they  had  been,  and  many  as  were  the  tears  they  had  shed  in 
the  wretched  school,  still  knew  no  other  home,  and  had  formed 
for  it  a  sort  of  atlachmcnt  which  made  them  weep  when  the 
bolder  spirits  fled,  and  cling  to  it  as  a  refuge.  Of  these,  some 
were  found  crying  under  hedges  and  in  such  places,  frightened 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  817 

by  the  solitude.  One  had  a  dead  bird  in  a  little  cage  ;  he  had 
wandered  nearly  twenty  miles,  and  when  his  poor  favorite 
died,  lost  courage,  and  lay  down  beside  him.  Another  was 
discovered  in  a  yard  hard  by  the  school,  sleeping  with  a  dog, 
who  bit  at  those  who  came  to  remove  him,  and  licked  the 
sleeping  child's  pale  face. 

They  were  taken  back,  and  some  other  stragglers  were  re- 
covered ;  but  by  degrees  they  were  claimed,  or  lost  again  ; 
and,  in  course  of  time,  Dotheboys  Hall  and  its  last  breaking 
up  began  to  be  forgotten  by  the  neighbors,  or  to  be  only 
spoken  of,  as  among  things  that  had  been. 


CHAPTER   LXV. 

CONCLUSION. 


When  her  term  of  mourning  had  expired,  Madeline  gave 
her  hand  and  fortune  to  Nicholas  ;  and,  on  the  same  day  and 
at  the  same  time,  Kate  became  Mrs.  Frank  Cheerj'ble.  It 
was  expected  that  Tim  Linkinwater  and  Miss  La  Creevy 
would  have  made  a  third  couple  on  the  occasion,  but  they  de- 
chned.  Two  or  three  weeks  afterwards  they  went  out  to- 
gether one  morning  before  breakfast,  and,  coming  back  with 
merry  faces,  were  found  to  have  been  quietly  married  that 
day. 

The  money  which  Nicholas  acquired  in  right  of  his  wife, 
he  invested  in  the  firm  of  Cheeryble  Brothers,  in  which  Frank 
had  become  a  partner.  Before  many  years  elapsed,  the  busi- 
ness began  to  be  carried  on  in  the  name  of  "  Cheeryble  and 
Nickleby,"  so  that  Mrs.  Nickleby's  prophetic  anticipations 
were  realized  at  last. 

The  twin  brothers  retired.  Who  needs  to  be  told  that 
they  were  happy  .-•  They  were  surrounded  by  happiness  of 
their  own  creation,  and  lived  but  to  increase  it. 

Tim  Linkinwater  condescended,  after  much  entreaty  and 
brow-beating,  to  accept  a  share  in  the  house  ;  but  he  could 
never  be  prevailed  upon  to  suffer  the  publication  of  his  name 
as  a  partner,  and  always  persisted  in  the  punctual  and  regular 
discharge  of  his  clerkly  duties. 

He  and  his  wife  lived  in  the  old  house,  and  occupied  the 
very  bedchamber  in  which  he  had  slept  for  four-and-forty  years. 

52 


8iS  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY 

As  his  wife  grew  older,  she  became  even  a  more  cheerful  and 
light-hearted  little  creature  ;  and  it  was  a  common  saying 
among  their  friends,  that  it  was  impossible  to  say  which  looked 
the  happier,  Tim  as  he  sat  calmly  smiling  in  his  elbow-chair 
on  one  side  of  the  fire,  or  his  brisk  little  wife  chatting  and 
laughing,  and  constantly  bustling  in  and  out  of  hers,  on  the 
other. 

Dick,  the  blackbird,  was  removed  from  the  counting-house 
and  promoted  to  a  warm  corner  in  the  common  sitting-room. 
Beneath  his  cage  hung  two  miniatures,  of  Mrs.  Linkinwater's 
execution  ;  one  representing  herself ;  the  other,  Tim  ;  and 
both  smiling  very  hard  at  all  beholders.  Tim's  head  being 
powdered  like  a  twelfth  cake,  and  his  spectacles  copied  with 
great  nicety,  strangers  detected  a  close  resemblance  to  him  at 
the  first  glance,  and  this  leading  them  to  suspect  that  the 
other  must  be  his  wife,  and  emboldening  them  to  say  so  with- 
out scruple,  Mrs.  Linkinwater  grew  very  proud  of  these  achieve- 
ments in  time,  and  considered  them  among  the  most  success- 
ful likenesses  she  had  ever  painted.  Tim  had  the  profoundest 
faith  in  them,  likewise  ;  for  on  this,  as  on  all  other  subjects, 
they  held  but  one  opinion  ;  and  if  ever  there  were  a  "  com- 
fortable couple  "  in  the  world,  it  was  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Linkin- 
water. 

Ralph,  having  died  intestate,  and  having  no  relations  but 
those  with  whom  he  had  lived  in  such  enmity,  they  would 
have  become  in  legal  course  his  heirs.  But  they  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  growing  rich  on  money  so  acquired,  and 
felt  as  though  they  could  never  hope  to  prosper  with  it.  They 
made  no  claim  to  his  wealth.  And  the  riches  for  which  he 
had  toiled  all  his  days,  and  burdened  his  soul  with  so  many 
evil  deeds,  were  swept  at  last  into  the  coffers  of  the  state,  and 
no  man  was  the  better  or  the  happier  for  them. 

Arthur  Gride  was  tried  for  the  unlawful  possession  of  the 
will,  which  he  had  either  procured  to  be  stolen,  or  had  dis- 
honestly acquired  and  retained  by  other  means  as  bad.  By 
dint  of  an  ingenious  counsel,  and  a  legal  flaw,  he  escaped ; 
but  only  to  undergo  a  worse  punishment :  for,  some  years 
afterwards,  his  house  was  broken  open  in  the  night  by  rob- 
bers, tempted  by  the  rumors  of  his  great  wealth,  and  he  was 
found  murdered  in  his  bed. 

Mrs.  Sliderskew  went  beyond  the  seas  at  nearly  the  same 
time  as  Mr.  Squeers,  and  in  the  course  of  nature  never  re- 
turned.    Brooker  died  penitent.     Sir  Mulberry  Hawk  lived 


NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY.  819 

abroad  for  some  years,  courted  and  caressed,  and  in  high  re- 
pute as  a  fine  dashing  fellow.  Ultimately,  returning  to  this 
country,  he  was  thrown  into  jail  for  debt,  and  there  perished 
miserably,  as  such  high  spirits  generally  do. 

The  first  act  of  Nicholas,  when  he  became  a  rich  and  pros- 
perous merchant,  was  to  buy  his  father's  old  house.  As  time 
crept  on,  and  there  came  gradually  about  him  a  group  of 
lovely  children,  it  was  altered  and  enlarged  ;  but  none  of  the 
old  rooms  were  ever  pulled  down,  no  old  tree  was  ever  rooted 
up,  nothing  with  which  there  was  any  association  of  bygone 
times  was  ever  removed  or  changed. 

Within  a  stone's-throw  was  another  retreat,  enlivened  by 
children's  pleasant  voices  too  ;  and  here  was  Kate,  with  many 
new  cares  and  occupations,  and  many  new  faces  court^ing  her 
sweet  smile  (and  one  so  like  her  own,  that  to  her  mother  she 
seemed  a  child  again),  the  same  true  gentle  creature,  the  same 
fond  sister,  the  same  in  the  love  of  all  about  her,  as  in  her 
girlish  days. 

Mrs.  Nickleby  lived,  sometimes  with  her  daughter,  and 
sometimes  with  her  son,  accompanying  one  or  other  of  them  to 
London  at  those  periods  when  the  cares  of  business  obliged 
both  families  to  reside  there,  and  always  preserving  a  great 
appearance  of  dignity,  and  relating  her  experiences  (espe- 
cially on  points  connected  with  the  management  and  bringing- 
up  of  children)  with  much  solemnity  and  importance.  It  was 
a  very  long  time  before  she  could  be  induced  to  receive  Mrs. 
Linkinwater  into  favor,  and  it  is  even  doubtful  whether  she 
ever  thoroughly  forgave  her. 

There  was  one  gray-haired  quiet  harmless  gentleman,  who, 
winter  and  summer,  lived  in  a  little  cottage  hard  by  Nicholas's 
house,  and,  when  he  was  not  there,  assumed  the  superintend- 
ence of  affairs.  His  chief  pleasure  and  delight  was  in  the 
children,  with  whom  he  was  a  child  himself,  and  master  of 
the  revels.  The  little  people  could  do  nothing  without  dear 
Newman  Noggs. 

The  grass  was  green  above  the  dead  boy's  grave,  and 
trodden  by  feet  so  small  and  light,  that  not  a  daisy  drooped 
its  head  beneath  their  pressure.  Through  all  the  spring  and 
summer-time,  garlands  of  fresh  flowers,  wreathed  by  infant 
hands,  rested  on  the  stone  ;  and,  when  the  children  came  there 
to  change  them  lest  they  should  wither  and  be  pleasant  to 
him  no  longer,  their  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  they  spoke  low 
and  softly  of  their  poor  dead  cousin. 


CHARLES    DICKENS' 

COMPLETE    WORKS 


The  following  Index  contains  the  names  of  all  the  writings 
of  Mr.  Charles  Dickens,  the  numbers  referring  to  the  volume 
in  which  thev  will  be  found,  in  the  order  mentioned,  as  fol- 
lows ; 


1.  Pickwick  Papers. 

2.  David  Copperkield. 

3.  MARTin  Chuzzlewit. 

4.  Nicholas  Nickleby. 

5.  Bleak  Huuse. 

6.  LrrrLE  Dorrit. 

7.  DoMBEY  &  Son. 

8.  Our  Mutual  Friend. 

9.  Oliver  Twist,  Pictures  fro.m 
Italy,  and  American  Notes. 

10.  Old     Curiosity     Shop    and 
Hard  Times. 


11.  Tale  of  Two  Cities  and 
Sketches  by  Boz. 

12.  Barnaby  Rudge  a-nd  Myst- 
ery of  Edwin  Drood. 

13.  Gre.\t  Expectations,  Un- 
commercial Traveller,  and 
Miscellaneous. 

14.  Christmas  Stories  and  Re- 
printed Pieces. 

15    Child's  History  of  England 

AND    MiSCELL.\NEOUS. 


INDEX. 


Aboard  Ship 13 

Addit.  Christmas  Stories  14 


Barlow,  Mr 13 

Barnaby  Rudge 2 

Battle  of  Life,  The 14 

Beadle.  The ir 

BegKina- Letter  Writer...   14 
Bill-Sticking 14 


American  Notes 9 

Anecdotes,  Three  Detec- 
tive   14 

B 

Births 14 

Black  Veil.  The n 

Bleak  House 5 

Blnomsbury     Christmas, 

The I ' 

Boarding    Hou«e,   The  11 


Birth-Day   Celebrations..  13  |  Boiled  Beef  of  N.  Engl'd  13 


Arcadian  London 13 

Astleys 11 

Bound  for  the  Great  Salt 

Lake 13 

Boy  at  Mugby,  The..   ..  14 

Boz,  Sketches  by ii 

Broker's  Mnn,  The 11 

Brnkers'  &  ^L^rine-Store 

Shops II 

(821) 


822 


INDEX. 


Calais  Night  Mail,  The..  13 

Chambers 13 

Characters 11 

Chatham   Dockyard 13 

Child's  Dream  of  a  Star.  14 
Child's   History  of  Enj;- 

land 15 

Child's  Story,  The 14 

Chimes,  The 14 

Christmas  Carol,  A.   ...  14 

Christmas  Dinner,  A . . . .  11 


Dancing  Academy,  The..  1 1 

Detective  Anecdotes 14 

Detective  Police,  The..    14 


Early  Coaches 11 

Edwin  Drood,  Mystery  of  12 
Egotistical   Couple,  The  13 


Fairv  Tale,  Prince  Bull..  14 

First  of  May,  The 11 

First  Omnibus  Cad 11 

Ghost  of  Art.  The 14 

Ghost  Stories,  Two 14 

Ghost's  Bargains,  The . .  14 


c. 

Christmas  Stories 14 

Christmas  Tree,  A 14 

Christmas   Stories,  Addi- 
tional    14 

Chuzzlewit,  Martin 3 

City  of  London  Churches  13 
City  of  the  Absent,  The  13 
Clock,    Master    Humph- 
rey's       15 

Contradictory  Couple.    ..  13 

Cool  Couple,  The 13 

D. 

Doctor's  Commons 11 

Dombey  &  Son 7 

Down  with  the  Tide   ...    14 

E. 

Election  for  Beadle 11 

England,   History  of. 
Child's 15 

F. 

Flight,  A 14 

Fly-Leaf  in  a  Life,  A. ...   13 
Formal  Couple,  The   ...    13 

G. 

Gin   Shops u 

Going  into  Society 15 

Great  Expectations 13 


Copperfield,  David a 

Couple  who  coddle  them- 
selves, The 13 

Couple  who  dote  upon 
their   Children,  The...    13 

Couples,  young,  Sketches 
of 13 

Cricket  in  the  Hearth, 
The 14 

Criminal  Courts  11 

Curate,  The 11 


Drood,  Edwin,  Mystery  of  n 
Drunkard's  Death,  The.  11 
Dullborough   Town 13 


English  Watering  Place, 

Our 14 

Expectations,    Great....   13 


Four  Sisters,  The 11 

French  Flemish  Country.    13 
French  Watering  Place.   14 


Great  Tasmania's  Cargo  13 
Great  Winglebury  Duel,  1 1 
Greenwich  Fair.   ......    11 


Hackney  Coach  Stand..  11 

Half-Pay  Captain,  The. .  11 

Hard  Times...   .   .     ...  10 

Haunted   House,  The...  15 

Haunted  Man,  The 14 

Inspector  Field,  On  Duty 

with 14 


H. 

His  General  Line  of  Busi- 
ness     13 

History  of  England, 
Child's 15 


Holiday  Romance 15 

Holly  Tree  Inn 10 

Horatio  Sparkins ii 

Hospital  Patient,  The..    11 
Humphrey,  Mast'r,  clock  15 


Italian  Prisoner,  The....   13  I  Italy,  Pictures  from g 


Ladies'  Societies,  The..  11 
Last  Cab  Driver,  The..  11 
Ivirriper's,     Mrs.,   Lodg- 
ings    .  14 

Making  a  Night  of  It n 

M.irigold,  Dr 14 

Master    Humphrey's 

Clock . .  15 

Medicine  Men  of  Civil- 
ization   13 


L. 

Lirriper's,   Mrs.,  Legacy  14 
Little  Dinner  in  an  Hour, 

A   13 

Little  Dorrit 6 

M. 

Meditations  in  Monmouth 
Street    11 

Meek,  Mrs.,  of  a  Son...    14 

Minns,  Mr.,  and  his 
cousin II 

Misplaced  Attachment  of 


London  Recreations.  ...  11 

Long  Voyage,  The 14 

Loving  Couple,  The 13 

Lying  Awake 14 

Mr.  John  Dounce 11 

Mistaken  Milliner,  The..  11 

Miss  Evans  and  the  Eagle  11 
Monument  of    French 

KoUv,  A... 14 

Mudfog  Association,  The  15 


INDEX. 


823 


New  Uncommercial  Sam- 
ples   13 

New  Year,  Tile n 

Newgale,  A  Visit  to 11 

Old  Couple,  The 13 

Old  Curiosity  Shop 10 

Old  Lady,  The 1 1 

Old    Stage    Coaching 

House 13 

Oliver  Twist 9 

Omnibuses it 

On  an  Amateur  Beat 13 

Parish  Engine,  The 11 

Parish,  Our  11 

Parliamentary  Sketch,  A  11 

Parlor  Orator,  The 1 1 

Passage  in  the  Life  of  Mr. 

Watkins  Tottle 11 

Pawnbroker's  Shop,  The  11 

Pieces,  Reprinted 14 

Perils  of  certain  English 


Refreshments  for  Travel- 
lers     13 

Samples,    New    Uncom- 
mercial   13 

Scenes 11 

Schoolboy's   Story,    The  14 

Schoolmaster,  The 11 

Scotland  Yard   11 

Sentiment 11 

Seven   Poor   Travellers, 

The 14 

Tale  of  Two  Cities 11 

Tales II 

Thoughts  about  People.,   n 
Three    Detective    Anec- 
dotes     14 


Uncommercial   Samples, 
New 13 


Walk  in  a  Workhouse,  A  14 
Wapping  Workhouse. ...  13 
Workhouse,  A  Walk  in  a  14 


N. 

Nice  Little  Couple,  The  13 

Nlckleby,  Nicholas...  .  4 

Night  Walks 13 

Noble  Savage.  The 14 

O. 

On  duty   with  Inspector 

Field   14 

Our  Bore 14 

Our     English    Watering 

Place 14 

Our     French     Watering 

Place 14 

P. 

Travellers 15 

Pickwick  Papers i 

Pictures  from  Italy 9 

Plated  Article,  A 14 

Plausible  Couple,  The..  13 
Plea    for  Total    Abstin- 
ence    13 

Poor    Man's   Tale   of    a 

Patent 14 

R. 

Reprinted  Pieces 14 

River,  The 11 

S. 

Seven  Dials     11 

Sii.ibby  Genteel  People..  11 

Shipwreck,  The 13 

Shops  and  their  Tenants  11 

Shy  Nt-'ighborhoods 13 

Signal   Man,   The 14 

Silverman's,  George,  Ex- 
planation   15 

Sketches  by  Boz.. 11 

T. 

Titbull's   Alms-houses..  13 

Tom  Tiddler's  Ground   .  15 

Tramps 13 

Traveller,  Uncommercial  13 

Travelling  Abroad   13 

Trial  for  Murder,  The..  14 

U.  V. 

Uncommercial  Traveller  13 

Visit  to  Newgate 11 

W.  Y. 

Wreck    of     the    Golden 

Mary 15 


Nobody's  Story 14 

No  Thoroughfare 15 

Notes,  American 9 

Nurse's  Stones ij 

Our  Honorable  Friend..  14 

Our  Mutual  Friend 8 

Our  Next  Door  Neighbor  11 

Our  Parish  11 

Our  School 14 

Our  Vestry 14 

Out  of  the   Season 14 

Out  of  Town 14 


Poor  Mercantile  Jack...  13 
Poor     Relation's    Story, 

The 14 

Porter,  Mrs.  Joseph 11 

Prince     Bull,    a    Fairy 

Tale 14 

Private  Theatres   11 

Prisoners'  Van,  The....  11 

Public  Dinners 11 

Romance,   Holiday 15 

Rudge,  Barnaby 12 

Sketchesof  Young 

Couples 13 

Small  Star  in  the  East,  A  13 

Somebody's  Luggage..  • .  14 
Some     Recollections    of 

Mortality 13 

Steam  Excursion,  The  .  n 

Streets — Morning 11 

Streets — Evening 11 

Twist,  Oliver 9 

Two  Ghost  Stories 14 

Two   Views   of  a  Cheap 

Theatre   13 

Tugg'sat  Ramsgate,  The  11 


Vauxhall      Gardens     by 
Day II 

Young  Couple,  The .    13 

Young  Couples,  Sketches 
of 13 


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